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Michelle Rhodes had been a widow for about eighteen months when she joined a Facebook group for Latter-day Saint widows and widowers that several people had suggested she join.
It reads like a worst-case scenario: you’re slicing through rough air to check on an offshore oil rig when the unfathomable happens—the chopper goes down. Would you survive?
It’s 9:58 p.m. in a small, dark theater. The audience members, an eclectic mix of fashionistas and film fanatics, sit whispering, their faces washed in the green glow of the theater’s exit signs.
Underneath glittering stage lights the bass player and keyboardist pound out a melody. The lead singer sidles up to the microphone and belts out “American Idiot” with enough angst to fool anyone into believing he’s a member of a teenage garage band.