One Year.

"Serenity is not freedom from the storm, but peace within the storm."

It's Thanksgiving. This time last year, we were packing up our apartment in Queens to move back to Richmond. The night before, we'd gone to see our favorite bartender, Dave (at Cronin and Phelan's on Broadway & Steinway) to drink some farewells. We were moving on Sunday. I had way too many shots of Jameson, and therefore had a Thanksgiving feast of apple sauce and juice. Thanks, Dave.



It is a year later, believe it or not. A year full of ups and downs. We hit the ground running on many things, and just flat out hit the ground on some others. When getting up from the ground, sometimes it seemed the Universe just wanted to keep knocking us down, pointing and laughing. We're working on kicking the Universe's A**.

In general, I'm trying to maintain a positive attitude. It may not seems like it - especially since I have a propensity for sarcasm, and calling things like I see them. The sarcasm isn't going anywhere - and I'm not promising to be all Stepford - I'm just making a concerted effort to not get bogged down in wasteful negative goop. I'm finding it doesn't help me to accomplish anything except feel crummy. And I don't like to feel crummy.

It's been a year of challenging and surprising myself. I've tried on some new hats this year, and discovered that I like the way that some of them fit. I've also discovered it's about time to put away some of the old ones. Either they don't fit anymore - or maybe they just never fit right in the first place. That has made things a bit challenging sometimes, but I've tried to make up for it.

It's true - I find myself missing New York every now and again. But I find that I'm better able to just be a person - be me - back here at home, so I'm better able to handle whatever is put in front of me.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Ditto, Joe

Note: I will no longer promise to post regularly. It turns out that I am full of crap.

I have plenty to say, but before I do, I wanted to draw attention the words of someone else. The lovely Mr. Joe Inscoe posted a comment over at the Barksdale Theatre blog. Dave T has linked to it previously, but, I think, it is well worth another read.

...My initial, cockier response to "a Broadway star right here in Richmond" was "Well Broadway doesn't seem to have gotten the memo. How 'bout alerting them to my existence." Then, as I caught up on your other recent blog posts I thought:

Is it really possible for anyone in this biz, professional or amateur, to find greater satisfaction on New York's stages than in Richmond's singularly rich theater community? Sure, the Great White Way offers the more dazzling rewards of Fame and Fortune, and it's truly gratifying to have seen some of Richmond's fine talent move on to achieve those elusive goals on Broadway. But they've also had to deal with Gotham's unimaginably exhausting, outrageously competitive, back-biting, politics-trumps-talent game of "Making It." I feel for them.

On the other hand, more than a few well-qualified Richmond talents have placed their professional bids on the New York game only to recognize that the emotional and ethical prices can be exorbitant (not to mention the cost of mere survival), and that the chances of wide artistic recognition are about as good as those of a lottery win. While I stand in awe at the sacrifices of time and toil often required to reach those less than happy conclusions, I offer a standing ovation for the rational maturity required to face them head on and to seek out a more positive venue. When those insights have led to Richmond homecomings, we have all benefitted [sic]...

Thanks, Joe. Couldn't have said it better if I tried.

A Father's Love.

We stopped for breakfast on our way home from our mini beach vacation. It was a rather popular spot - the line out the door moved pretty fast. Sayings such as, "There will always be beer cans rolling around the floor of the car when the boss asks for a ride home" painted on the rafters made the time pass when the line did lag.

We ordered our food and made our way to a table. A few tables over, I heard a father talking to his 8 year-old daughter. He was not a small man - his stature made him handy for piggy-back rides and a shoulder to sit on for a better view. His daughter had obviously taken advantage of her summer - her hair was bleached from the sun, and my pale complexion was envious of her tan. She looked a little down in the dumps though. It had rained the night before, and, by the looks of things, Mother Nature was not finished scattering her thunderstorms across the region. It was most certainly not a Beach Day.

He reassured her over their pancakes, "We'll find something to do today. Ok . . . Ok?"

Mope.

"How about Putt-Putt? Do you wanna play Putt-Putt?"

I did not hear her reply. Whatever it was, it was good enough for Dad. He looked his daughter square in the face and said,

"That's fuckin' awesome is what that is."

Because I Had To.

I originally had Duckie up here, but I just kinda like this movie better.

Lunch Break.

Papers in hand, I waded through the sea of day-campers - careful not to trod on limbs, digits, and remnants of lunches. I was determined not to squander one of my few opportunities to use the facilities, so I stopped by the ladies room on my way to visit Bessie* the Copier.

Their faces gave them away immediately. They were busted. Doing what, I didn't know. The guiltiest of the guilty froze while their cohorts made a run for it, abandoning them to the wrath of the camp counselor. The two of them stared at me, wide-eyed and mouths agape, fearing the punishment that awaited them.

"Sarah. Jessica. Let's go out in the hallway and have a chat, " I ordered, my bladder pining for one of the stalls.

"Sarah. Why don't you start. What's going on?"

"You said you, like, hated me!" Sarah said to Jessica, through lisps and misty eyes, as though I wasn't even there.

"Well, you've been acting all, like, prissy, hanging out with your new friends, and, like, not even paying any attention to Stephanie."

"I thought Stephanie knew you did that..."

I let them talk it out, Middle-School Style, for a few minutes, until I determined that I'd gotten a grasp of the situation.

"So, What I'm hearing is - and stop me if I have this wrong. Jessica. You told Sarah that you hate her because she's not spending enough time with Stephanie. You want her to spend more time with Stephanie. And you spend a lot of time with Stephanie. Obviously because you care enough about her to stick up for her like this. Stephanie seems to be unaware of any of this (She nods). My question to you is: Why would Sarah want to be around both Stephanie and you - knowing that you 'hate' her?" (My shame in using air-quotes must not have been apparent.)

This had obviously not occurred to Jessica. It seemed I'd seen where she was coming from. Suddenly, I'd found a hole in her logic. Her smile dissolved from her face.

"Sarah. It seems are are doing what we've asked you to do at camp. Make new friends. Which is great. But I figure Jessica isn't imagining things. Could you be leaving your other friends behind?"

She shrugged. Then nodded. Then admitted, "Maybe."

"Do you think, maybe, you two can work something out where Sarah gets to spend time with her new friends without being made to feel bad, and not making her old friends feel bad either?"

They nodded.

"And next time, if Stephanie has a problem with Sarah, how about we let Stephanie and Sarah try to work it out?"

Jessica nodded. They went back to socializing with the rest of the campers.

I trudged upstairs and said hello to Bessie. She grappled out the copies I needed, and I rejoined the group downstairs, in time to start the second half of the day.

I never did get to use the facilities.

-------------------------------
*All names have been changed

Moving Right Along.

Gregory Hines, man. Wow.

I put him up because I'm sure it was kind of a bummer to pop over here and keep seeing "I lost my job" all the time. I'm not in that frame of mind, and my blog doesn't need to be either.

Many thanks to those who have asked about the specific location of the restaurant - either here or networking sites. Those people have asked simply out of concern, to boycott, or even just to raise a specific digit as they happen by the locale. I assure you, all of the "gestures" of support are greatly appreciated, and felt warmly - at least by me.

Seriously though, because there is a Part B to Restaurant-Gate to which I do not yet know the outcome (if any), I'd rather not be plastering nasty things about a place with its name attached. At least - not yet. jk! jk! Don't think I'm keeping it a secret though! If you don't want to spend your money there, I won't make ya!

In other news, I started the Kid-Related Theatre job this week. Wow. Kids. Wow. As of today, that is a positive "Kids. Wow." We've asked a lot of them in a couple of days - things I'm not sure I would have been willing and/or capable of doing when I was their age. They've risen to the challenges like champs.

It's going to be a crazy-busy few weeks - and I'm going to be EXHAUSTED - but I think it will be well worth it.

Because Who Doesn't Love Gregory Hines + Tappers in Tuxes?