My Mom taught English at Lake Lehman High School for a while back in the 80s and early 90s, before we moved to State College. She used to regularly plan trips to New York City to see museums and Broadway shows. I was lucky enough to get to tag along on a number of those trips. Because of her, I saw / was introduced to Into the Woods (with Bernadette Peters), Sweeney Todd, Phantom of the Opera, Les Miserables, The Heidi Chronicles (with David Hyde Pierce, pre-Frasier) and more. I went to the Met and the MoMA. I got to do all of these things before I was 13. That was so lucky!
The one story I tell a lot from those trips involves one of the few Lehman grads who became famous.
Some of the others are Ricky and Rocky Bonomo, All-American wrestlers. Another local legend is Zap from American Gladiators. Zap had a gym in Dallas (called "The Gym"), and one time when my Mom was on the treadmill there, some meathead dude was lifting and groaning loudly. A six-months-pregnant Zap stormed out of her office, grabbed his barbells and proceeded to aggressively, yet quietly bang out a 10-rep set. She handed them back and loudly said, "I can do that and I'm six months pregnant! You don't need to make that much noise!"
The Back Mountain's less testosterone-fueled celebrity is Jay McCarroll, familiar to followers of Project Runway as the winner of Season One. Jay and my sister Barbara were good buddies in high school, as they were two of the only artsy-fartsy folks in their class. Jay, for the record, is really quite true to himself as a celebrity persona. He was every bit as outlandish, creative and hilarious in high school. I can vouch from being a witness.
On one of our New York trips, our bus drove past a group of gay protesters who'd been excluded from performing in the Saint Patrick's Day parade (anyone remember that old chestnut from newsreels gone by?). Jay, upon seeing the picket signs, lept to the side of the bus and began shouting at the top of his lungs, "We're queer! We're here! We're Irish! Get used to it!" over and over and over again.
This story would be less remarkable if not for the following factor. Jay was on a bus with fellow students from Lehman. An extremely rural location, the Back Mountain was (I don't know if it still is, really, but it was) the kind of place where, if one wasn't dressed for a day of hunting, construction work or farming, one felt a bit ostracized. It wasn't so much that people worked actively to make one feel left out (people there were always very nice, I thought), it just happened naturally. Needless to say, Lehman (like pretty much 99.9% of rural America) wasn't the most gay-friendly place.
The fallout from Jay's outburst? Everyone laughed good-naturedly. A few jockish dudes sitting behind him threw him the ol' high five. No one was the least bit bothered. It was just Jay being Jay.
Maybe that's how America needs to deal with her (other people's words, not mine) "homosexual crisis." Maybe she just needs to accept all the diverse peoples within her borders, make them all one of the gang, high five them after they do something funny, and move on.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
A Rollercoaster Ride
My year of teaching has been one nonstop rollercoaster thus far.
Curving up, dropping down, exhilirating, thrilling, terrifying, no part of this year has been smooth, calm, or relaxing. As a result, I am already pretty tired.
Mechanicsburg suits me.
My colleagues are supportive, professional, and good-hearted. They care about students and want to do their best for all of the kids that walk into their classrooms. Colleagues whose names I don't even know yet ask me how I'm doing and offer support every time I see them.
The kids here are friendly and fun. For the most part, they aren't really angling for the grade or the "gotcha" moment. They pick on each other, but it generally stays playful. They've been patient with me on my sloppier days when, no matter how much planning I've done, things just don't click.
I trust my administrators.
On the other hand, I'm a mess! I can't wait to settle into more of a groove. I don't like the extremes. I do like the variety. I guess I'm ready for something less like The Great Bear at Hershey and more like The Phoenix at Knoebel's. I could ride The Phoenix all day.
I still want to go to Cedar Point one day, too.
I remember going to Hersheypark with my family when I was, I don't know, five? My dad wanted to take me on the Super Dooper Looper. I was terrified. About halfway through the long, long (almost 2 hours) line, I had to pee. I started bugging my dad, like kids do. We were about 2 minutes away from the coaster when I just couldn't handle it anymore. Tears. The pee dance. Panic. He whisked me off to a bathroom. He was so ticked, but he did the right thing. Moms prefer an annoyed dad over peed pants nine times out of ten. A couple years later, the same thing almost happened at Busch Gardens while we were in line for The Big Bad Wolf (one of my top 3 coasters). This time, I stuck it out, kept my cool, and ran for the bathroom afterwards.
Why does fear make us have to pee?
Curving up, dropping down, exhilirating, thrilling, terrifying, no part of this year has been smooth, calm, or relaxing. As a result, I am already pretty tired.
Mechanicsburg suits me.
My colleagues are supportive, professional, and good-hearted. They care about students and want to do their best for all of the kids that walk into their classrooms. Colleagues whose names I don't even know yet ask me how I'm doing and offer support every time I see them.
The kids here are friendly and fun. For the most part, they aren't really angling for the grade or the "gotcha" moment. They pick on each other, but it generally stays playful. They've been patient with me on my sloppier days when, no matter how much planning I've done, things just don't click.
I trust my administrators.
On the other hand, I'm a mess! I can't wait to settle into more of a groove. I don't like the extremes. I do like the variety. I guess I'm ready for something less like The Great Bear at Hershey and more like The Phoenix at Knoebel's. I could ride The Phoenix all day.
I still want to go to Cedar Point one day, too.
I remember going to Hersheypark with my family when I was, I don't know, five? My dad wanted to take me on the Super Dooper Looper. I was terrified. About halfway through the long, long (almost 2 hours) line, I had to pee. I started bugging my dad, like kids do. We were about 2 minutes away from the coaster when I just couldn't handle it anymore. Tears. The pee dance. Panic. He whisked me off to a bathroom. He was so ticked, but he did the right thing. Moms prefer an annoyed dad over peed pants nine times out of ten. A couple years later, the same thing almost happened at Busch Gardens while we were in line for The Big Bad Wolf (one of my top 3 coasters). This time, I stuck it out, kept my cool, and ran for the bathroom afterwards.
Why does fear make us have to pee?
Sunday, October 4, 2009
All the Children are Above Average
I just got home from a pretty wonderful day.
I woke up this morning in Clark and Melissa's house, which is always a treat. They're dear friends and mentors of mine, and for a few years they were my bosses when I worked for them as an actor, fundraiser, teacher and all-purpose-helper at Gamut Theatre Group. Every fall they host a party for anyone who's worked for the company over the 16 years they've been doing business. They have a big old Victorian house in Millersburg, and they always extend the invitation for people to sleep over and have a big breakfast the next day, where Melissa whips up a huge bowl of sausage and bacon and other breakfast goodies and Clark (who grew up in South Carolina) makes grits. Their devotion to the company makes it a place that feels a lot like a family, and their house feels, for me anyway, like a kind of second home. Last night I saw people I hadn't seen in years, friends I've missed greatly. I can keep up with them on facebook, but it's not the same as sitting down and catching up in person. I woke up feeling good, feeling reconnected to an important part of my life.
Alexis and I spent the morning shooting a promotional video for an upcoming event at the Ned Smith Center, where she works. She and our friend Caleb Smith concocted a film festival idea for the Center. Caleb, who runs moviate, a local film co-op, and teaches film at CASA (Capital Area School for the Arts), is a remarkably kind-hearted, intelligent, creative fellow. He is one of those people who can brighten up anyone's day just by being present. For as long as I've known Caleb I've thought it would be great fun to get to be a part of a film shoot with him, and today did not disappoint. His friend Jim directed and other friends of theirs chipped in and helped out. Alexis and I played a young married couple (big stretch there) on a picnic lunch with our son. Alexis' former theatre school student Gabriel played our kiddo, and his mom, our buddy Angela (who was responsible for our wonderful wedding photos) hung out, too.
The fun part is the event itself, and that provided a delightful twist on things. Caleb, Jim and Alexis are putting together a Bigfoot Film Festival (aka "the BFF"), a 3-day event in January highlighting films, documentaries, myth, lore and science surrounding the sasquatch / yeti / bigfoot phenomenon. It's such a clever thing for a Nature and Arts Center to be doing... I can't wait to go and take it all in.
The twist was, for our video, Jim asked his girlfriend (I think...?) Alice to play Bigfoot. Alice is a teeny little thing. She's maybe just over five feet tall. But she was glorious, and she honestly brought to life a rip-roaringly hilarious Bigfoot underneath a mountain of fur and latex and makeup.
So we dressed ourselves up to look like a clean-cut couple from the early 1960s. Gabe cut his hair for the role, something Angela never thought he'd agree to do. He was excited, nervous, and worked hard. He did a great job. It was fun for me to watch this young guy (he's 8, I think) give it his all. I coached him through Makeup 101 for Dudes so he would get over that hurdle and he took his base, powder and blush like a champ.
The conceit of the piece is that we're having a lovely picnic, and Bigfoot comes by. We all seem scared (who wouldn't, I mean c'mon?) but then Gabe grabs a flier for the BFF and Bigfoot, intrigued, joins us for popcorn-fueled movie screening and we all have a blast hanging out. There's more nuances to the promo than that, but I'll just post a link to the video once it's done.
It was a beautiful day and it should be a terrific little video that Alexis and I (and Gabe and Angela, and Caleb, Jim, etc.) can cherish and feel proud of for a long time.
On the way home I caught Garrison Keillor at the top of his game, singing, joking, wryly observing and movingly touching upon the very stuff of life in today's Prairie Home Companion. Keillor & Co. are an acquired taste, like most of the finer things in life, and I've found its taken me repeated listenings over the years to really get into his groove. I suppose it helps to grow older, too. Today was a beauty. If you don't believe me, look it up and see if you can have a listen for yourself: October 4, 2009.
Keillor, like Joseph Campbell and like so many other people I love and respect, sees stories as the truest currency in the world, the very glue that holds us together and binds us in a common web of humanity. We're all a part of the same story, and each of us has thousands upon thousands of stories unique to us that make us who we are.
I thank God for these kind of days. Now I have to spend the rest of it lesson planning and grading stuff! (gulp)
I woke up this morning in Clark and Melissa's house, which is always a treat. They're dear friends and mentors of mine, and for a few years they were my bosses when I worked for them as an actor, fundraiser, teacher and all-purpose-helper at Gamut Theatre Group. Every fall they host a party for anyone who's worked for the company over the 16 years they've been doing business. They have a big old Victorian house in Millersburg, and they always extend the invitation for people to sleep over and have a big breakfast the next day, where Melissa whips up a huge bowl of sausage and bacon and other breakfast goodies and Clark (who grew up in South Carolina) makes grits. Their devotion to the company makes it a place that feels a lot like a family, and their house feels, for me anyway, like a kind of second home. Last night I saw people I hadn't seen in years, friends I've missed greatly. I can keep up with them on facebook, but it's not the same as sitting down and catching up in person. I woke up feeling good, feeling reconnected to an important part of my life.
Alexis and I spent the morning shooting a promotional video for an upcoming event at the Ned Smith Center, where she works. She and our friend Caleb Smith concocted a film festival idea for the Center. Caleb, who runs moviate, a local film co-op, and teaches film at CASA (Capital Area School for the Arts), is a remarkably kind-hearted, intelligent, creative fellow. He is one of those people who can brighten up anyone's day just by being present. For as long as I've known Caleb I've thought it would be great fun to get to be a part of a film shoot with him, and today did not disappoint. His friend Jim directed and other friends of theirs chipped in and helped out. Alexis and I played a young married couple (big stretch there) on a picnic lunch with our son. Alexis' former theatre school student Gabriel played our kiddo, and his mom, our buddy Angela (who was responsible for our wonderful wedding photos) hung out, too.
The fun part is the event itself, and that provided a delightful twist on things. Caleb, Jim and Alexis are putting together a Bigfoot Film Festival (aka "the BFF"), a 3-day event in January highlighting films, documentaries, myth, lore and science surrounding the sasquatch / yeti / bigfoot phenomenon. It's such a clever thing for a Nature and Arts Center to be doing... I can't wait to go and take it all in.
The twist was, for our video, Jim asked his girlfriend (I think...?) Alice to play Bigfoot. Alice is a teeny little thing. She's maybe just over five feet tall. But she was glorious, and she honestly brought to life a rip-roaringly hilarious Bigfoot underneath a mountain of fur and latex and makeup.
So we dressed ourselves up to look like a clean-cut couple from the early 1960s. Gabe cut his hair for the role, something Angela never thought he'd agree to do. He was excited, nervous, and worked hard. He did a great job. It was fun for me to watch this young guy (he's 8, I think) give it his all. I coached him through Makeup 101 for Dudes so he would get over that hurdle and he took his base, powder and blush like a champ.
The conceit of the piece is that we're having a lovely picnic, and Bigfoot comes by. We all seem scared (who wouldn't, I mean c'mon?) but then Gabe grabs a flier for the BFF and Bigfoot, intrigued, joins us for popcorn-fueled movie screening and we all have a blast hanging out. There's more nuances to the promo than that, but I'll just post a link to the video once it's done.
It was a beautiful day and it should be a terrific little video that Alexis and I (and Gabe and Angela, and Caleb, Jim, etc.) can cherish and feel proud of for a long time.
On the way home I caught Garrison Keillor at the top of his game, singing, joking, wryly observing and movingly touching upon the very stuff of life in today's Prairie Home Companion. Keillor & Co. are an acquired taste, like most of the finer things in life, and I've found its taken me repeated listenings over the years to really get into his groove. I suppose it helps to grow older, too. Today was a beauty. If you don't believe me, look it up and see if you can have a listen for yourself: October 4, 2009.
Keillor, like Joseph Campbell and like so many other people I love and respect, sees stories as the truest currency in the world, the very glue that holds us together and binds us in a common web of humanity. We're all a part of the same story, and each of us has thousands upon thousands of stories unique to us that make us who we are.
I thank God for these kind of days. Now I have to spend the rest of it lesson planning and grading stuff! (gulp)
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Stardust & Stories
If the Big Bang Theory is to be believed (and I personally do not find it to be incompatible in the least with the "Let there be light" theory of creation, especially if one is willing to embrace the simple concept of metaphor), then everything in the universe that isn't empty space is a kind of stardust. Everything else is a story.
Taxi!
One of my favorite stories is pure hearsay. A friend of mine told it to me, and he heard it from a friend of his. Yes, it's one of those.
Richard Harris was on Oprah one day, and he was asked to share some memories from his travels with Peter O'Toole on the stages of London. When Harris and O'Toole were younger, they were supernumerary players (spear-carriers, basically) in a London production of Macbeth. The actor playing Macbeth was a holy terror to work with, prone to fits of anger and general diva behavior. Finally, O'Toole had enough. One night, as O'Toole entered as Seyton to deliver one of the more famous set-up lines ("The queen, my Lord, is dead," after which comes the incomparable "Tomorrow, and tomorrow and tomorrow..." speech from Macbeth) in all of drama, he decided to throw a change-up. He entered and said:
"The queen, my lord... is just fine! As a matter of fact, she's been asking about you." He then turned to face the audience, raised an index finger and shouted, "Taxi!" and proceeded to walk up the center aisle and out the back of the house.
The other one is from a few years later. Somehow O'Toole had managed to recover his career after the "taxi" incident, and he and Harris were young stage stars working together. At the interval (British for intermission) the two were fond of crossing the back alley outside the theatre in full makeup and costume and tossing back a pint or two at the pub next door. One night they were taking a bit too long in this ritual when an agitated stagehand burst into the pub and announced, "You are on right now!"
Harris rushed back across the alley, through the backstage doors, right out onto the stage, and directly off the front of the proscenium into the lap of a large woman sitting in the front row. Harris got up, dusted himself off and said, "Excuse me, excuse me."
"Oh God!" announced the flummoxed woman. "Harris is drunk!"
"Madam," Harris responded, "if you think that was bad, wait 'til you see O'Toole's entrance."
I love those stories. I have no idea if they are true, and I don't especially care. I certainly don't condone such unprofessionalism in any endeavor, but if one must fail, at least one may do so with style. I'd be interested in finding out if anyone has actually seen that episode of Oprah.
Richard Harris was on Oprah one day, and he was asked to share some memories from his travels with Peter O'Toole on the stages of London. When Harris and O'Toole were younger, they were supernumerary players (spear-carriers, basically) in a London production of Macbeth. The actor playing Macbeth was a holy terror to work with, prone to fits of anger and general diva behavior. Finally, O'Toole had enough. One night, as O'Toole entered as Seyton to deliver one of the more famous set-up lines ("The queen, my Lord, is dead," after which comes the incomparable "Tomorrow, and tomorrow and tomorrow..." speech from Macbeth) in all of drama, he decided to throw a change-up. He entered and said:
"The queen, my lord... is just fine! As a matter of fact, she's been asking about you." He then turned to face the audience, raised an index finger and shouted, "Taxi!" and proceeded to walk up the center aisle and out the back of the house.
The other one is from a few years later. Somehow O'Toole had managed to recover his career after the "taxi" incident, and he and Harris were young stage stars working together. At the interval (British for intermission) the two were fond of crossing the back alley outside the theatre in full makeup and costume and tossing back a pint or two at the pub next door. One night they were taking a bit too long in this ritual when an agitated stagehand burst into the pub and announced, "You are on right now!"
Harris rushed back across the alley, through the backstage doors, right out onto the stage, and directly off the front of the proscenium into the lap of a large woman sitting in the front row. Harris got up, dusted himself off and said, "Excuse me, excuse me."
"Oh God!" announced the flummoxed woman. "Harris is drunk!"
"Madam," Harris responded, "if you think that was bad, wait 'til you see O'Toole's entrance."
I love those stories. I have no idea if they are true, and I don't especially care. I certainly don't condone such unprofessionalism in any endeavor, but if one must fail, at least one may do so with style. I'd be interested in finding out if anyone has actually seen that episode of Oprah.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Peaks & Valleys
I used to have this quote from Neil Young on my wall when I was a teenager:
"How can you win if you never lose? How can you be renewed if you don't grow old? There have to be peaks and valleys, or it's boring."
I might be paraphrasing after all these years.
My parents have always said I had no end of material for a stand-up comedy show one day. I think the stories that make up my life are more than just funny stuff.
I'm hoping I might actually stick with this for once. We'll see.
My hope is that this can be a place to collect my stories, at least the good ones I can remember. Like the quote, I might be paraphrasing after all these years, adding a little something extra to the peaks and the valleys.
It certainly hasn't been boring to this point, though.
"How can you win if you never lose? How can you be renewed if you don't grow old? There have to be peaks and valleys, or it's boring."
I might be paraphrasing after all these years.
My parents have always said I had no end of material for a stand-up comedy show one day. I think the stories that make up my life are more than just funny stuff.
I'm hoping I might actually stick with this for once. We'll see.
My hope is that this can be a place to collect my stories, at least the good ones I can remember. Like the quote, I might be paraphrasing after all these years, adding a little something extra to the peaks and the valleys.
It certainly hasn't been boring to this point, though.
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