If you are local, you have two more chances to see the amazing production of The Man of La Mancha at Theater 301. Last night’s audience leapt to their feet.
This will be an amazing production of MAN OF LA MANCHA. If you live nearby, plan to be there for one of the four presentations — if you can get a ticket. Last year some of the performances sold out.
I am only a little biased, since my son Doug designed and built (with lots of help) the set, and is directing along with Joan Olson, assistant director.
See the link below for more interesting details. (and click on the photo to enlarge it)
I’m still working on the story of my accident and its aftermath, but before its ready to post here, I want to stay connected. So I’m posting today the short,short story I’m including in a local anthology. It’s based on an event of some 15 years ago, though it’s hard to believe that it’s been that long.
I made it in time, half way across the country.
“Mom’s waiting for you.” Eddie gestured toward my lifelong friend, seemingly comatose on the Hospice bed. I held her hand. I think she squeezed mine a little.
“She had some prune juice for breakfast this morning,” he said. “And she asked when you would be coming.”
My last chance to talk with the person who held so much of my life in her hands, from the time we were in our carriages, I think. Certainly from tricycle days.
“Remember riding down our hill tilting your tricycle to make it a two-wheeler? With me following cautiously behind on three wheels?” I asked. Her eyes fluttered slightly open, then closed. Hallie was always good at eye-fluttering.
I think a little smile played on her lips as I went on. “Playing marbles for keepsies? The only game I was good at. You even picked more violets for Mother’s Day. Boyfriends at BayView beach? Spotting for enemy planes during the war? I couldn’t tell a plane from a mosquito. Giggling at your wedding; crying at my college graduation? Oh, and always protecting me from the scary neighborhood dogs?”
Hallie laughed, full-bellied as she used to, and drifted away to the end of her journey.
I’d love to see you there on Saturday if you live nearby. Besides the items of direct concern to me, there will be much of beauty and interest to see, ponder, and enjoy.
The theme of the current gallery display is “Back Stories.” The story of the cover of “Figs & Pomegranates & Special Cheeses” will include the original art work by Marilyn Brown along with a step by step display of the graphic art enhancement by Jenny Janson of Janson Graphics.
Copies of “Figs & Pomegranates & Special Cheeses” (and its predecessor “Mrs. Job.”) will be available for sale.
There will also be on display a photo print by Doug Affinito with its backstory.
Doug and Lisa and I will be there for the opening, arriving sometime around 7:15 or 7:30 p.m. Jenny will also be there, and, I hope, Marilyn.
The location is given on the attached brochure designed by Jenny.
It has taken time to let go of the symbols of care from the days following my April 15, 2015 accident. About a month ago I finally deposited my brace into recycling – the brace from which I was set free on July 17th. I’m not too sure why I kept it hanging around so long. Maybe a symbol of my survival of the accident? Maybe fear that I might need it again? Certainly that would be irrational, given that I’d need to be refitted if I were to create another situation where I needed it. Maybe a symbol of the care I received? Maybe a sign that I was ready to move past identifying myself as an accident survivor? Maybe something else I can’t recognize because I’m too close to the situation?
So now, about the walker. When I came home from rehab at the beginning of June to continue my recovery I had a walker on each of the three levels of my townhome. There were only a few days that I needed them to get around, but it was a long time before I folded up two of them – one to return to the church from which it had been borrowed, and the other to contribute to “His House” charity. The third one has remained in my master (mistress?) bathroom until this morning. I’ve been using it to continue the exercises they taught me in rehab. Truth be told, however, all I really need is a doorjamb to hold while doing them. There’s just something about not parting with those symbols.
I think it’s really a declaration of independence. Maybe today I’ll dig in more deeply to the writing I’ve been planning to transfer from my head to my laptop. One thing I want to finish up is the story of what I experienced and learned as an accident victim/causer. My plan is to present it here in short segments – so it won’t be so boring. And maybe I won’t need that long restorative nap every day.
Funny how the things I was so anxious to leave behind apparently became the last rails to hang on to before dropping back to normalcy — a new normal.
In past years I’ve managed to do something relatively elaborate to wish my friends a happy holiday. This year not so much, but my joy in your friendship is none-the-less nurturing, exciting and powerful.
As I think you know, my big event of the year was turning my lovely little Acura RSX into a flattened pile of metal and stuff that looked in the end like an aluminum can crushed under foot in preparation for the recycling bin. That was on April 15, when I was on my way home looking forward to two unscheduled days to dig into some of my ongoing projects.
Most of those projects are still active in my head, but I’m way behind in carrying them out. I did get to follow through on plans to take part in a forum on forgiveness at the Shepherd of the Hill Presbyterian Church on April 28. With the help of my son who got my computer to me at Auburn Manor where I was rehabbing, I was able to create handouts illustrating my new approach to presenting forgiveness issues, emphasizing that justice and mercy are two sides of the same coin. Auburn manor made it easy for me to work within the recovery schedule, and some very generous folks from the church managed to get me there and back to present from a wheelchair. Quite dramatic, really.
One of my projects now is to write about my crash, what I’ve learned from it, and the impact it’s had on my life. I have started working on it, discovering that I have to go back to check records to remind me where I was when. Memory, never a simple file folder in the brain, is more vague than I thought it would be. But you will probably be exposed to it eventually.
Work also proceeds on “My Father’s House.” Right now it’s mostly doing research about Bristol, Connecticut and life and times around 1910. Totally stalled, however, is the creation of questions for groups to use in discussing “Figs and Pomegranates and Special Cheeses.” I’m hopeful they will eventually encourage more adoption of “Figs … . “ Then there’s my blog, and my facebook page, so badly ignored as they fall to the bottom of the priorities list.
I’ve been out of the three-month sentence to the torso brace since July 17. Whew! What a relief. But regaining my energy is still an ongoing process, along with getting accustomed to my shorter stature after losing two inches to my L1 compression fracture. And what a shock when I realized how it had changed my body structure! Yes, I worked hard at keeping good posture, but my clothes needed a lot of adjusting. The local tailor was wonderful at working around the brace to alter clothes to fit for our July 28 departure on a planned three-week cruise to the Shetland Islands, Iceland, and Norway.
The flight on the way over did hurt. I walked the aisles a lot, but three weeks of rest, walking, and fun worked wonders. The trip home was very comfortable. I still need to lie on my back occasionally when pain starts to build up – especially after working at my computer, and walking is amazingly helpful. But my chiropractor/nutritionist tells me things will keep on getting better. Certainly I have no basis for complaining when I think of what might have happened if my Acura, its seat belts, and air bags hadn’t taken such good, protective care of me.
I loved all the places we visited on the cruise. I intended to share a few photos on my blog, but I haven’t made it past the point of beginning to learn how to post movies. Just beginning to learn how – still haven’t done it.
As for photos, I haven’t yet downloaded the few I took on our restful and fun four-night Thanksgiving stay at Cove Point in Beavers Falls, outside Duluth. Because then, of course, came the preparation for Christmas. I am no longer responsible for “creating” the celebration, but, given my propensity to purchase gifts through the year while traveling, it does fall to me to wrap them all and get them to their destinations.
All these words just to explain why I haven’t been writing on my blog and facebook! And I thought I was going to write just a brief paragraph.
Finally,to the point. Two points, actually. (1) Rejoice! The winter solstice arrives in a few hours and we will begin to have more daylight. (2) Rejoice! Things may be pretty awful, but we always have this annual time to at least imagine what love and peace will look like when we decide to practice them. Oh, and (3) Thank you for enriching my life with the creative things you do in the blogosphere.
I’m working on “My Father’s House,” and I’m at the point where he arrives in America and is teased for what he’s wearing. He had purchased the height of style for his arrival in the U.S., but is put down for his “foreign” look. I’ve searched the web, but I haven’t found a good answer to the following question. “What was he wearing that marked him as a foreigner?” In other words, how did American men’s styles differ from Swedish (or European) style in 1910?
I’m grateful for any help I can get…..