The Break It Up Lady

My first boyfriend had a very interesting background. He “came from” money – but his parents were hippies and alcoholics – who had had massive trust funds – and a lot of that money was squandered by the generation before my boyfriend really came into the picture. Yet, he grew up surrounded by big money Newport people, with yachts, etc. However – he always had to have summer jobs, he bummed around with his skateboard, his parents were always living on the edge of financial destruction. Yet my boyfriend was sent to one of the most expensive boarding schools in New England. You know … one of those weird situations that only haapen in families who once were wealthy.

I’m strictly middle-class. That’s my background. I didn’t grow up knowing rich people. Not like THAT anyway. Most of my friends growing up were middle-class, too. We would take field trips to Newport to gape at the mansions, so we knew, obviously, that there is massive wealth in Rhode Island – but it just wasn’t my crowd.

Suddenly, with the first boyfriend – I was introduced into that world.

I wasn’t always comfortable. It takes a bit of getting used to. At least it did for me. I felt, at times, like Julia Roberts in the scene in Pretty Woman when the wonderful Hector Alizandro shows her about silverware. I mean, I wasn’t THAT out of it, but there were times … hanging out in those crowds … when I figured the best possible way to deal with it would be to hang back, be silent, and just do what everybody else did. I had no experience with people like that.

People who knew about wines, and knew how to order them. People who ordered wines and then sent them back.

People who owned lots of toys. 6 mountain bikes in the garage – for one person. And a yacht.

People who were always suing their interior decorators.

This is another world for me. I don’t mean to sound like a little country mouse, but that was kind of the situation.

I felt intimidated.

Luckily, the first boyfriend had a healthy contempt for all of it, and he also had a wonderful sense of humor. (Has.)

One of his best friends from childhood (whom I had met many times, and this man – this man-boy, really – was OUT OF HIS MIND. Like Robert Downey Jr. With unlimited amounts of cash. He never had to work. He had a pretend job. He was absolutely insane, and a lot of fun – I really liked him – for about 5 minutes at a time) – Anyway, he was getting married.

My boyfriend was in the wedding.

So, by proxy, I was involved in the entire thing. The rehearsal dinner, the wedding brunch, the wedding … It was 3 days out of my life. The whole thing happened in Newport. This is old old old money. The groom was Newport money and the bride was Texas money. Two different types of wealth which came into stark contrast over that weekend.

What ended up happening was: the two rich families ended up competing with one another, in terms of who paid the most for which event. Which, of course, meant that it was a lot of fun for us – the guests. The reception was at the Sakonnet vineyards and was one of the most elaborate gorgeous events I have ever gone to. There was no love lost between the 2 families. As a matter of fact, they despised one another, and felt competitive with one another. Also, there was actually no love lost between the groom and the bride. I caught him, during one of the toasts made at the rehearsal dinner, give her a look of such contempt that it made me catch my breath. (They were divorced within 8 months.)

I had “borrowed” all of my outfits for the weekend-long extravaganza from the costume shop at the university where I went to school. I was terrified of what all those rich Newport and Texas girls woudl be wearing. So I “borrowed” a Jackie Onassis-inspired little black cocktail dress, and a vintage black hat with a little veil – I “borrowed” a black alligator-skin purse. I felt like a little girl playing dress-up. There was a lot of southern belle action going on around me, and I looked like no one else there … but at least I looked pretty fabulous. I got a lot of compliments. Phew. I was relieved.

At the rehearsal dinner I was separated from my boyfriend, who sat at the bridal table. I cannot explain the WEALTH on display. It was out of control. And this is old classy money. Huge difference and (to my taste then) much more intimidating. And because I was separated from my rock, my anchor, I had no one to talk to – and I was sitting next to the sister of the groom – who apparently was an amazing artist but was so intensely shy that she would literally begin to weep during conversations.

I am not exaggerating. She was obviously terrified of people. There was a schism in her somewhere. The truest part of herself was in deep hiding. She would never let it out.

I tried to talk to her about her art. She sat there mutely. I wanted to put her out of her misery. In a good way. Let her know I was safe. But she was paralyzed with fear. I felt a kinship with her. I was a little girl playing dress-up, sitting at the Newport Yacht Club. She was extraordinarily rich but couldn’t speak. We both were outsiders.

But we could not break through.

She began to weep maybe 2 or 3 exchanges into the conversation.

I gave up and then proceeded to get VERY DRUNK ALL BY MYSELF.

It was awful. I guzzled 4 glasses of wine in a 45 minute period, and then suddenly – voom – I was WASTED. I suddenly channeled my ancestors, many of whom had come over on the boat from Ireland, and worked as maids in the houses of the ancestors throwing this party!! I became the Irish maid guzzling the wine in the rich people’s kitchen.

I sat in my chair. Afraid to move. I thought I would fall down if I tried to get up. I was WASTED. I never get wasted, but there I was. Jackie Onassis get-up, little black veil over my face, WASTED. It was terrifying.

My boyfriend kept throwing me sympathetic glances across the room.

At one point, I mouthed at him, very very slowly, “I …. am …. waaaaaayyyyy … too drunk … right now…”

When you’re drunk, sometimes the truth comes out. Or sometimes you see things that otherwise you might gloss over.

I witnessed a moment between the bride’s mother and her 2 children which was so awful – so cold – that I felt frozen in my seat. I looked at her face and saw Satan. It was like Cathy in East of Eden.

The bride and her brother had a big long gushy hug. They were siblings, and they were hugging. Whatever, it’s a wedding – completely normal.

I was very moved by it. I sat there, drunk, watching the hug, in a daze of tears. Glad I didn’t have to talk to anyone, because I was way too wasted to be of use to anyone. So I just people-watched, and got all misty-eyed watching the siblings hug.

Then it all turned evil.

I glanced directly at the mother – hoping to bond with her – I thought I would be the little supportive Irish maid – and we would share a glance of, “Oh, isn’t it nice to see them hugging?” – but instead I saw this look of absolutely stiff-jawed mortification on her face. She was in a rage. In a rage at the public display of emotion. The bride’s mother sat in her chair, she had her hand up against her chin, and …. Okay, here’s what I saw.

Even though it was a private moment between brother and sister (the rehearsal dinner had broken up into a party, with different conversations going on, people milling about, lots of different stuff happening) – So even though, NOBODY was even paying attention to the bride at this point, the mother was a TOTAL narcissist – and believed at all moments that all eyes were on her. So she FELT like everyone was looking at her. She felt that everyone was looking at the gushy hug of her children, and judging it, and then looking at HER to see how she would take it. I saw all of this on her face. Paralyzing awareness of everyone looking at her (even though nobody was – well, except for me). Second of all, she was obviously tremendously embarrassed (and not only embarrassed, but offended) by emotion, and she could not wait for the hug to end.

I then heard her murmur, again – to herself – but it was really for the invisible audience that she has watching her at all times – she murmured, with this frozen smile on her face, “Break it up … break it up…”

I was way too drunk, people. I felt a veil being drawn back so that I was staring directly into the heart of darkness. I couldn’t speak. I clutched my stolen alligator-purse. I felt a breath of cold wind flow over my drunken soul.

BREAK IT UP? You want to BREAK UP a loving embrace between YOUR TWO CHILDREN??? What the hell is wrong with you? What happened to you that has made you SO miss the point of life? You are embarrassed because your children are hugging? Wow, lady. You’re a loser.

I just … my mind blanked.

My boyfriend, bless him, saw that something was happening with his girlfriend across the room. I was horrified. I couldn’t stop staring at the bride’s mother, and how her jaw clenched, and how she smiled a little bit, and glanced around the table (and nobody was looking at her – but she thought they were), and how her eyes were cold as ice … I felt like I was going to lose it. I must have looked a fright. My boyfriend basically got up, left his table, and came over to me.

I tried to keep it together. I was WASTED. (Have I mentioned how WASTED I was? I only keep mentioning it because it is such a rarity. I was suddenly sloshy falling-down drunk. I didn’t know what I was going to do. And I also was … I couldn’t believe how that mother looked at her own children … I couldn’t get over it …)

My boyfriend sat down next to me, and I grabbed his lapel and pulled him close to me so I could hiss in his ear. “Help. Me. Help. Me. For God’s sake. Help. I am too drunk to be in public right now.”

“Okay. We’ll leave soon.”

“And I just saw something so horrible … so horrible … when I’m not so drunk, I have to do an imitation of it for you.”

(Later, once I sobered up, I did an imitation of the “break it up” moment for him, and it very quickly has passed into folklore. He would make me do it for EVERYONE. “Do ‘Break it up’ Do ‘Break it up’!” Mitchell still references “the break it up lady”. As long as one can turn horror into comedy, life is worth living!)

Finally, my boyfriend said goodnight to the groom (who had completely ignored his bride-to-be the entire night – I felt like I was surrounded by lunatics) … and came to help me back to the car. I was afraid to stand up. I was at the Newport damn Yacht Club in a cocktail dress I had, let’s face it, STOLEN from the costume shop at the university … and I was afraid I would fall down, or puke … in front of all those people. I’ll be honest: I felt like I was a better person, emotionally, than most eveyrone there. I felt so THANKFUL that the “break it up” lady was not my mother. I felt like I was glad I was ME and not THEM. But at the same time, they intimidated the SHIT out of me. I felt like they could SMELL my lack of money on me. I don’t care about that stuff … but it matters to those people … and so anyway. I felt like I would never recover if I made a drunken slobbery fool of myself. My boyfriend, though, just like Cary Grant helping Katharine Hepburn leave the club in Bringing up Baby when her dress was ripped – made it seem like we were having a normal exit, he shielded me from having to walk out by myself … I kept murmuring, as we walked out of that echo-chamber room on the Newport Bay: “Holy crap … I cannot believe how drunk I am … I am … help … how did this happen … I have to tell you about the break it up lady …”

Finally, we were out in the crisp salt air. We drove home with the windows wide open. I drank a gallon of water. I felt much better.

The wedding the next day was a whole other nightmare.

The groom’s sweet pathologically shy sister had a nervous breakdown at the brief rehearsal at the church – and NOBODY WAS SYMPATHETIC to her, NOBODY helped her – except for my boyfriend and my boyfriend’s beautiful brother. She was supposed to do a reading (which just goes to show you out of touch with reality this family was – you ask her to do a reading??? She can’t even have a conversation and you ask her to do a reading??? I’m a STRANGER and I know she would not be capable of that!!) So she at the rehearsal she walked up to the pulpit, but she literally was shaking so hard that you could hear the paper in her hand fluttering.

I felt … I wanted to stand up and scream STOP! I felt like I was surrounded by a bunch of lunatics!

She stood there for an interminable amount of time – and then – completely cracked – in front of the entire crowd – sobbing, sobbing into her hands.

I began to cry myself. I felt horrible. I felt angry.

The second she started to cry, I saw “Break it up” lady shake her head disapprovingly, and turn to her husband and murmur, “I told you she wasn’t up for it.”

She wasn’t just disapproving of the choice of the shy girl as a reader – she disapproved of the public-ness of the breakdown. She also was visibly triumphant because she had been RIGHT. She had “I told you so” written all over her. She had contempt, as I said before, for emotion. No compassion. Not one drop of it in her veins. I’m telling you. She was an anomaly as a human being. Like Cathy in East of Eden.

Shy girl’s family abandoned her up there. Nobody moved to help her. If I saw one of my sisters crying in public, even if they were speaking at a presidential feckin’ inauguration – nothing would stop me from running up there, and helping them. I don’t care if a gazillion people see! But she started crying, and nobody moved. Everyone was just stiff and mortified. Her brother didn’t move to help her, her parents didn’t move, and Break it Up lady judged, yet also SEETHED with triumph for having been right. It was horrible. There was something seriously wrong with all of these people. My boyfriend and his brother both immediately broke out of the groomsmen line and walked over to her, and helped her away, sobbing. Later, I saw my boyfriend’s brother sitting with her – and he was such a sweetheart – so nice – he was one of the only people who get her talking about her art, about her life – she trusted him – and he even got her laughing about the breakdown. He read over her reading and said, “I don’t even know what half of these words mean. It’s a stupid reading. I wouldn’t even know how to have it make sense.”

See what I mean? He was a good person.

The whole thing was a travesty.

And yet: because I am who I am: HIGHLY enjoyable. In a weird way.

It was rich rich stuff. (Rich, in terms of people-watching, and rich, in terms of the money poured into this wedding between 2 people who didn’t even like each other all that much!)

When the 3 day event was finally over, my boyfriend and I shrieked out of Newport in our Honda Civic, blasting Elvis Costello, and howling with laughter about all the lunatics. Thanking God we had escaped. “Do ‘break it up’ again – oh come on – do it again!” he would shout. I would tense up my jaw, make my eyes small and lizard-like – and I wouldn’t even have to SAY anything … I didn’t even GET to “break it up” in my imitation – the second I would tense my jaw my boyfriend would GUFFAW with laughter. He was an awesome audience.

I had to have a private moment with her … I just HAD to. I wanted to test the boundaries. I wanted to see if her evil really went that deep. I wanted to see if I treated her with kindness, openness, and gratitude if she would melt a little bit. You know how some bitchy people can be completely disarmed if you do not meet their bitchiness head to head and continue being kind and sweet? Sometimes they even start to apologize immediately, because you have disarmed them. “God, sorry … I’m having a crappy day …” Suddenly, their humanity comes out? You know how that happens sometimes? I just wanted to see what would happen if I did that with her. A little experiment.

So at the end of the reception, I went over to her to thank her for a lovely time. And, actually, we had had a lovely time. The reception was a BLAST. I walked over to her, and said, “Thank you so much … I have had such a great time …” She looked up at me with her cold lizard eyes, and again her jaw tensed, and she said, “The caterer is going to hear from me tomorrow, you had better believe it. The incompetence has been outrageous.”

Wow.

Okay.

That’s all the confirmation I need, lady! You’re rich, but you’re a loser, and you’ve missed the point of life!

Thanks!!

I have nothing against wealth, by the way. I’d like a little bit myself. But I walked away from that event feeling like I had been in a crazy fun-house. I knew what I had seen had been distorted – by my own intimidation, not to mention my drunkenness at the rehearsal dinner – I couldn’t tell what was real, and what was my own projected anxieties – but I’ll tell you one thing: I know what I saw on her face when she said “Break it up” – I don’t care how drunk I was. I know what I saw.

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27 Responses to The Break It Up Lady

  1. Alex says:

    ” i clutched my stolen alligator-purse”….um,genius?! I love the “break-it-up” lady sooo much…but is she realted to the “Don’t. Be. Unpleasant. Today.” lady?

  2. mitchell says:

    oh sorry..that was me…Alx switched it when she was here.

  3. Rob says:

    You did better than I would have, Sheila. I despise people who inherited or married into the notion that they matter more than you and I because of their wealth. I’m probably more condescending toward them than they are toward me. I guess it comes from many years of seeing my classmates and friends (When they needed help in computer science) drive off laughing down St Charles Avenue in their new Trans Ams while I waited for the streetcar. I would have never thought to turn the whole thing into a surreal comedy event.

  4. red says:

    Rob – well, I have manners, I guess. These people were very close to my boyfriend – through family connections – and he also was really good friends with the groom – they had been best friends since they were 5 years old It would have been incredibly rude if I had been just as rude as them. Not my style at all.

    They may have had money, but I have class.

  5. red says:

    Mitchell – hahaha who is that “don’t — be unpleasant today” woman?? I will never figure it out – it is lost in the mists of time.

  6. mitchell says:

    isnt that weird? maybe we invented her one day is some drunken improv game and she simply became real???

  7. Stevie says:

    This was so enjoyable to read, Sheila – so well done! The list of moments I’m gonna NEED to see acted out if I’m ever lucky enough to meet you grows ever longer. It’s like I picture you and Mitchell and Alex and Beth and Emily and me in a loud bar and I’m screaming, “Now do the Liza walk!” while trying hard not to shoot Guinness out of my nose. :)

  8. peteb says:

    which ancestor were you channelling again, Sheila? The maids?!.. not a scintilla of Grace there by any chance?

    A wonderful rememberance! Thank you.

  9. tracey says:

    Oh, Sheila, my heart just BREAKS for that poor shy girl! It’s the shame of silence thing! Thank GOD for you and your boyfriend and his brother.

    And the Break it up lady isn’t human; she’s just a frozen wasteland.

  10. JFH says:

    Based on personal experience, and no offense to ya’ll in the Northeast, but Northeast rich is much more snobby than Southeast rich… In fact, I’ve heard stories from my wife’s relatives that when in the NE they are still looked down upon, based on their accent, despite being worth tens of millions…

  11. red says:

    JFH – No offense to y’all in the south, but I’m a bit sick of the casual generalizations about my region which happens quite a bit here on my blog. They ALL were horrible, so don’t gimme that regional baloney. I’m tired of it. Especially when it doesn’t apply. The Break It Up Lady was from Texas, not the northeast. She was the worst one.

  12. red says:

    Stevie – Yup. the “break it up” lady immediately became part of my repertoire. EVIL!!!

  13. red says:

    tracey – I know. She truly was a tragic figure. But I saw some of her paintings and they were amazing – she lived a life that suited her here in NYC away from her awful family. She had a sweet shy boyfriend … but obviously her family was just devastating to her spirit. It was awful to see.

  14. red says:

    peteb – No, not Grace. If I had been channeling Grace, I would have challenged Break It Up lady to a duel or something. I was more channeling my great-grandmother. An incredible woman in her own right!!

  15. red says:

    Oh, and I guess – just to add to all of this – even though it was kind of horrifying and they all were truly corrupt awful people – at least when all together like that … it was more INTERESTING and FASCINATING than soul-destroying or irritating. Because I didn’t have to see any of them ever again. I was a visitor in their horrible little loveless world. I could escape.

    There was something very RICH, like I said, about the whole thing. None of them made me feel bad, specifically. Not at all. They had no idea how deeply I was observing them and how much they revealed. They, after all, because of their wealth, feel impenetrable and above it all. They didn’t know that there are things much better in this world than wealth – and that I have those things – and they didn’t. They wouldn’t have understood it anyway – but that’s part of the point!!

    I don’t hang out with people like that. I don’t hang out with people who care about status. I don’t know people like that. So it was almost like going to a zoo filled with exotic animals that I would only get to see once. It was so so weird. I’ll never forget it.

  16. Stevie says:

    I totally get it. Ghastly. And absorbing. Sounds like a Grande Guignol production. Jessica Lange could play her perfectly.

  17. red says:

    Stevie-

    Or Catherine O’Hara.

  18. Kate says:

    God, what a miserable c–t. Mary Tyler Moore in Ordinary People. Getting her picture taken for the Christmas card. She sounds like that woman. Brittle brittle brittle.

    My parents also knew a woman liked that. I remember going to a Christmas party at their house when I was a kid. When dinner was served, she rang a little silver bell and literally herded her guests into the dining room. Jesus, back off, lady!

  19. roo says:

    I feel like I was the sobbing shy girl. (I’m not.)

  20. Stan says:

    It is remarkable how I can relate to your story. The break-it-up lady…I know her well!

  21. red says:

    Kate – yes! Mary Tyler Moore taking the picture! It makes my blood run cold.

  22. Just1Beth says:

    And, at the risk of getting my head bit off, I resent generalizations of wealthy people as snobs and only concerned with their status and condescending to people of less wealth. I have spent the last five seasons working with an events planner in Newport and have met a HUGE range of human beings. These are not your run of the mill parties, but incredibly pricey soirees. Some people are bitchy and some are wonderful. If I have learned anything, it is that money has nothing to do with class and manners. BUT, people who are NOT wealthy tend to resent the hell out of rich people and classify them as cold, heartless people. The location of the wedding in this post is actually named the New York Yacht Club (there is no Newport Yacht Club) and I have done a number of weddings there. Invariably, I get someone from my “real life” who makes some snarky comment classifying rich people as bitches, snobs or judging how they spend their money. But who among us knows what kind of donations people make, or whose education they quietly support? And don’t WE, the “non rich” try to entertain and buy gifts for our friends and families that are within our price range? I guess I think of it this way: Right now, my children are at the economic status such that they buy gifts for their friends for Christmas at the dollar store. At some point, they will get jobs, and buy CD’s with their own money. Eventually, they will get careers and buy jewelry, clothes, electronics, etc. for their spouses. Basically, humans tend to buy for others within their financial means. Some people have the means to buy more than others. And somehow, in our society, it is ok to judge wealthy people, “Well! I think it is a total waste to spend that much money on x, y or z!” What about people who spend money on books? or movies? or sporting events tickets? or fancy kitchen ware? We ALL make financial choices that someone else doesn’t agree with.
    Whew. What a rant from a woman who doesn’t have a pot to piss in. I know that the story was about a woman who was a damaging, sad, pathetic woman. My point is that somehow the conversation segued into “Rich people Suck”. And I am just saying, “Some PEOPLE might suck, but most people are great.” It has very little to do with their socio-economic status. An ass is an ass is an ass. With or without money. And many people with very little money judge just as harshly. They just feel it is ok to do so.

  23. red says:

    Beth, that is so weird – I automatically wrote down New York Yacht Club and then second-guessed myself and went back and changed it. So it IS the New York Yacht Club. Ah well, this took place in … 1988 or something like that and I haven’t been there since!

    You sound pissed off at me. Not sure why. I completely agree wiht everything you wrote. I just wanted to write about this one evil woman who I have never forgotten. The fact that she was rich was just something I found interesting, because, like I said, that whole world is not a world I hang out in – and everything was that much more vivid, and memorable because of it. I had no experience with it. I even remember that we had cold vichiossoise soup as an appetizer at the rehearsal dinner, and I remember what the bowls looked like. Everything vivid, and burned into my brain.

    But of course. I agree with everything you said. I’m describing two specific families who – in order to ‘show up” the other family – threw money around like it was going out of style – and openly disliked each other. And the bride and the groom didn’t even LIKE each other. I found the whole thing horrifying. In a way, it was the worst wedding I ever went to – because of all of those elements – but in another way (the food, the reception, the band, the lavishness of it) it was the best wedding I ever went to.

    And please see that in the last paragraph of this post I wrote: “I’ve got nothing against wealth. I’d like a little bit of it myself.”

    This post is really about one of my moments of growing up – I walked into that weekend, having all kinds of projections onto these people, because of their money. It intimidated me. And this isn’t just people with a lot of disposable income – these people are WEALTHY. It will be passed on to generations. And I expected them to be a certain way because of that. But they came in all shapes and sizes – shy weepy artist girl, crazy man-boy groom, and evil bitch mother.

    So anyway. You seem to feel like I was making some huge broad point about Newport or something – I wasn’t. That just happens to be where this weekend took place. You also seem to give a dig towards people who spend money on books – which I took personally … okay … of course people can spend money on what they think is valuable. If I had money, you don’t think I would spend it on such things? Of course I would. I am not JUDGING people for being wealthy. I am describing a specific wedding I went to, and what I remember, and what I saw. Part of it was my realization that even though these people were rich – and therefore “higher up” on the social ladder than me – didn’t mean that they were nicer, or “better”. I had projected that onto them myself.

  24. Rob says:

    FWIW, I also agree with Beth. I didn’t say I despised wealth or wealthy people. Only the ones who had notions that they matter more than you and I because of their wealth.

  25. red says:

    Also, though – the Break It Up lady never once made me feel like a little country mouse. I did that all by myself. This isn’t about rich people making poor people feel bad about themselves. All of that was my own projection. She never once looked down her nose at me – or looked at my Payless Shoes with disdain – Nothing like that. I never even suggested that. That’s not the point of the story.

    The point of the story is the moment I saw on her face, when she hated the fact that her kids were hugging, and she thought everyone was looking at her. I found that extraordinarily interesting, in a psychological way. I think about that woman often, actually.

  26. Just1Beth says:

    I am not pissed AT you, I guess it is just the general feel of the comments were like, “Yeah, rich people suck! They have no idea of what it is like to be us.” (Rob (in his first response,but then he clarified it after), JFH, Kate)My point is that THAT attitude is just as obnoxious – making generalisms towards a certain population just because of their socio-economic status. So yes, it is not admirable for rich people to look down their nose at working class people. But it is just as not admirable for working class people to judge someone because of the size of their bank account.

    I realize YOUR post was about one SPECIFIC family, and woman in general. It just so happens that this particual family happened to be loaded. And she sounds like she would have been a real bee-otch no matter if she were rich or if she were poor.

    As far as the book comment you certainly took that too personally. I also mentioned movies, sporting events tix and fancy kitchen ware.

    It was the comments that I thought needed to be addressed, and I did so and feel better about it. No hard feelings. I just hate it when people generalize.

  27. Rob says:

    I think people may have misconstrued my first comment. I didn’t clarify with the second comment as mush as I reiterated the first. That said, I may have misconstrued that wealth was an integral part of the story. If so, my apologies to all.

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