67x365

23/365 A Hug

2007-03-30T06:47:00.000-07:00

The parking lot is full, the lobby crowded, and there’s a feeling in the air. Jonathan’s given up his one Broadway day off to do a benefit cabaret for our theatre. Yesterday was his 22nd birthday. Success has come early for him. Success hasn’t removed any of the kindness that fills his soul. As he sings, his talent amazes, his smile warms. Jonathan gives us a hug.

Jonathan is currently in 'Spring Awakening'.

22/365 Suitcases

2007-03-26T07:47:00.000-07:00

The Chicken Ranch girls need suitcases. A 1957 Samsonite is too nice but I remember it as a graduation gift. “It’ll last forever,” Dad said. It looks darn good after fifty years. An oversized tapestry case reminds me of Cannes. The gleam of saddle soap clings to a monogrammed leather case – a young bride’s wedding gift to her husband. I’m treading memories in a sea of luggage.

21/365 Just So Stories

2007-03-20T06:47:00.000-07:00

The giggles crescendo. I know there are only eight teens in the theater but it sounds like a symphonic performance – full and sweet. Tonight is first costume and press photo. They’re excited. They dress in Victorian finery and pull out props. The photographer poses them holding a blanket river and having a tug-of-war with the elephant’s nose. He takes a long series of shots. Kipling nods approval.

20/365 Wednesday

2007-03-17T07:18:00.000-07:00

When my daughters ask, will I tell them I drove around looking for him or that I walked, arms at my side, waiting for his hand to take mine? Will I say I hired a band to parade down Main St. playing something Stan Kentonesque to celebrate his smile? No, I’ll say I took roses from his girls and whispered, “We miss you” to the cemetery air.

19/365 The Angelettes

2007-03-15T07:21:00.000-07:00

He hands them to me two at a time. I hold them carefully. They’ll have another life, I think to myself. There are seven of them. There should be eight but one strayed. We load them into my car. Their headlight reflector breasts point skyward. I drive the speed limit back to the theater, unload them and cross off lifesized cheerleader puppets from the " …Whorehouse…”prop list.

18/365 Skewed Hearing

2007-03-09T06:42:00.000-08:00

Willie Loman said, “Attention must be paid.” I didn’t pay attention to Willie. When the girls were growing up, I misheard lyrics regularly. Boy George’s, 'I'll Tumble For You' became 'I’ll Call My Lawyer'. 'Go Ahead and Jump' was 'My Friend Joe'. Yesterday, I listened to an interview on NPR. I thought the songwriter was about to sing, 'Rabbit Ears'. The actual title was 'Gravity'. Sorry, Willie.

17/365 Diet

2007-03-06T05:08:00.000-08:00

I don’t own a scale. I depend on my jeans to tell me if I’ve gained weight. They tell me, “Yes.” After the last snowstorm, I cooked, baked, ate. It was time to cut back. I went to the grocery for vegetables and met Girl Scouts – selling cookies. I bought one box; put them in the freezer. Diet Jello tastes much better with a frozen cookie chaser.

16/365 Atticus

2007-03-05T06:26:00.000-08:00

He is new. He’s a wee child with many names – Atticus Charles Michael. Because he kicks off his socks, his mother has encased him in a lambskin-like bunting, buttoned at the feet. He finds an escape route and pokes a foot through it – wiggles his toes. He raises his eyebrows when spoken to as though he is commenting. He is new. He is joy in a bunting.

15/365 And We're Off...

2007-03-02T05:14:00.000-08:00

We sardine our group into the director’s office. We drag in lobby chairs or sit on the floor. It’s crowded but we’re a cozy-loving bunch. This is the first production meeting of the Main Stage season. Words overlap words and for two hours ideas fly across the room. When the meeting ends, three of us wander onto the porch and continue the fun. And we’re off…and running.

14/365 The Porch

2007-02-28T05:46:00.000-08:00

It has a concrete floor, a couple of benches and a view of the park. Today, a mist rises from melting snow. A lone dog is walked. This porch is an idea shelter. Walking into the light from the darkened theater clears minds. Thoughts are given voice here; problems solved. A late winter breeze kicks up and thousands of future ‘what ifs?’ float silently over my head.

13/365 Organization Postponed

2007-02-21T05:07:00.000-08:00

No shelves were built – no flower-holding lattice attached so my quest for organization has been postponed. It’s like that in the off-season. People sleep late while they can and an occasional day is lost. But I’ve been thinking. Glassware will fill those new shelves, flowers will fill the lattice and I think I’ll put the dead wolf at the door. It is a community theater, after all.

12/365 What's That?

2007-02-20T05:13:00.000-08:00

Today I’m going back to a room whose contents defy categorization. It’s prop room clean-up week and my job is to categorize the uncategorizable. Sure, the books, dishes, glassware and linens are easy. When I get to the dead wolf, bird cage, Egyptian statue, old gurney, fake grenades and funny looking hair dryer, things get a little more challenging. I’m ready. I have labels and a Sharpy.

11/365 A Sign

2007-02-19T06:05:00.000-08:00

The sign on the door reads Auditions Downstairs. They’re having callbacks for”Best Little Whorehouse.” I meet BD at the door. He’s reading the sign. We’re both there to watch the kid’s performance of “Bugsy Malone”. He directed it. Soon the theater will be filled with kids, parents and doting grandparents. BD looks at me and says, "God, I'm glad the sign says Auditions and not Whorehouse Downstairs.”

10/365 Tomorrow

2007-02-19T06:03:00.000-08:00

Last spring his voice cracked as he sang in “Gypsy”. Yesterday, his voice hit the top of every note as he sang “Tomorrow”, a song of youthful angst. The gathered audience stopped chatting. He had them. Then with mop in hand, he began to dance. As he slid in and out of the light, if you squinted, you could see Fred Astaire. Tomorrow will welcome this talent.

9/365 Toboggan Run

2007-02-17T07:22:00.000-08:00

The front sidewalk is pristine clean – no ice, no snow. The path to the garage is a toboggan run. Next to the garage the car wears a turtle shell of ice – it starts right up. The garage door won’t stay closed. I think it’s the freeze. Today, I’m snugged in the comfort of the ordinary – slaying cobwebs, washing curtains. Stop by but beware of the toboggan run.

8/365 The Shovelers

2007-02-15T04:59:00.000-08:00

Before the storm, I called Parker. “How’d you like to make some money?” I asked. “What are we talking?” he replied. I love this kid – he has no filters. We made the deal. He and a friend arrived at noon. After chopping snow-ice for about an hour, they came in, soaking wet, victims of plow-throw. Jackets were dried. They finished at three, pocketed their wages; walked home.

7/365 The Faucet

2007-02-14T05:50:00.000-08:00

I want everyone to see my new kitchen faucet. It’s a Moen – stainless steel. Frozen pipe weather delayed installation for a month. Meanwhile, the only thing that worked was the sprayer. Mineral-laden water clogged the rest. Yesterday the plumber arrived and transformed the sink. The faucet gleams. The cabinets look dull, the countertops dingy and the floor’s spotted. I don’t want them to feel bad. I’ll clean.

6/365 The Window

2007-02-12T05:02:00.000-08:00

She stands at the kitchen window, rubbing lotion on her hands. The radio announced snow. She looks for Juncos. I’ll need more salt, she thinks and more bird seed. She hears the shadow of her mother’s voice – “You have enough.” She wants the snow. It will cover the backyard bleak. She watches as the first flakes fall, then stop. She looks at the sky - wants more.

5/365 Chaps

2007-02-11T04:43:00.000-08:00

In September 2001, we produced Oklahoma! Phyllis costumed. Now Phyllis is costuming a high school production. We’re in the costume shop looking for costumes she made six years ago and aren’t having much luck. We find a few vests and some petticoats but the rest are missing – gone to the ‘costume hole’. Then Phyllis yells, “I found the chaps!” and the bittersweet feeling of that September returns.

4/365 The Survey

2007-02-09T05:38:00.000-08:00

We are clearing the stage for rehearsal – filing gels in plastic totes. The cast meanders in. They're all teens or pre-teens. One of the older teens is doing his homework assignment – a three question survey. The questions are: Do you think gay marriage, abortion and cloning should be illegal? – Choices: yes, no or maybe. The kids are galvanized. They want a fourth answer choice. They want 'what if?'.

3/365 Rabbit Tracks

2007-02-08T05:40:00.000-08:00

Yesterday as I swept feather snow from the backyard sidewalk, I spotted a serpentine of rabbit tracks. I swept them off and thought of the bunny who’d left them. He first appeared in the yard last spring, a singular baby. I gave him oats. I watched him grow. He ate my larkspur. Seeing the tracks makes me smile. I go into the house and get some oats.

2/365 No Cell Phones, Please

2007-02-07T04:26:00.000-08:00

The sign on the post office door was large, the font huge. It said, please refrain from cell phone use in the post office as a courtesy. Inside, talk was about the sign. All said, “Aye!” I waited in line. A phone rang. All heads turned as though they’d just heard a gun fire. The perpetrator lowered his head, clutched the weapon and ran out the door.

1/365 Boy Walking to School on a Frigid Morning

2007-02-06T05:31:00.000-08:00

Through the fractured leaded glass window, he’s a blur of green. I move to see him through clear glass. Bundled in an overstuffed parka, hood tightly tied; he is holding a picture book and reading as he walks. His pinked cheeks frame a wide grin. It must be a good book. Puff-stuffed gloves cover little hands. He glances ahead, spots a friend, closes the book and runs.