The Course Of - Whatever - Never Did Run Smooth (5) ~ Early Evening Thoughts

--continuing from night before last and posts prior

So,leaving the awe-struck Julius Caesar cast behind as they work on the Parker Hall stage, let us pick-up a bit on the star-crossed cast of Midsummer Night's Dream.

The problem with Shakespeare at any time and any of this plays is quite simple. In the comedies (and portions of the tragedies) he is quite a lewd..uh..crude..um..socially unacceptable..OK...earthy writer. One of the joys of teaching Shakespeare in High School is that the students absolutely "get it." Many parents, School Boards and even some English teachers fall into the trap of placing an aura around The Bard.

Yes, he did manage to write much that was tremendously powerful and amazing lyrical poetry within the structure of his plays and theater, as well as his sharp, unerring and amazing understanding of power, people and life ... however ... and it's a big however ... the "groundlings" and even those in the boxes had so much competing for their attention outside of the theater that he had to make sure they were completely entertained in a manner they were accustomed ... raunchy, ribald humor at that!!

Once a student discovers that aspect of the plays ~ the hunt is on! And I absolutely pity any teacher who has no idea just how raunchy and ribald Shakespeare can get trying to handle a class full of "hormones in tennis shoes" reading the comedies...or discovering the meaning of "the two backed beast" in Othello.

On of the advantages I had in my High School Shakespeare Tragedy classes was that I knew what was ahead. And I basically headed it off at the pass. My classes were so busy with themes, character work and dramatic archs - or lack thereof - that while I was unafraid to acknowledge their "amazing" dirty joke discoveries, I'd pull the discussion back to the matters at hand.

To me, his ability to write low and high-brow in the same play was nothing more than another example of his intellect and writer's gift. OK, it also was a tribute to the ability of the acting company at the time to adapt some of what he wrote - but as far as I am concerned, most of the work was his. And also, his ability to write wonderful humor that people in his day would understand, but not let it get in the way of what else he had to say, is nothing short of awe inspiring to me. And remember, he did have to be careful of what he said, lest he get into political trouble ~ which did occur upon occasion.

So now, as I faced adapting one of his wildest romps to an age appropriate level, the teacher and I did decide to play on the "aura" that surrounds his plays. I made the more obvious deletions and took some of the "in" out of the wilder "innuendos." And as far as the more subtle things? We took the course of ignorance just might be bliss, and quite forgivable.

I'd mentioned that one of the biggest problems was Bottom's line about "a man would be an ass." The was just one word that, for whatever reasons, had to either go or be changed. We tried all sorts of things. We tried leaving it out ~ big hole to anyone who knows the play. We tried using the word donkey ~ that just didn't even elicit a giggle from anyone.

As I mentioned before, when I was left in the hospital with my arm hanging straight up, the answer came to me and quite frankly it had been staring me from the page the entire time. When I told the teacher my solution, we both laughed. When I shared the solution with the person playing Bottom, I was rewarded the one of the deepest guffaws I've been blessed with in all the plays I've directed.

The passage in question ~

BOTTOM ~

[Awaking] When my cue comes, call me, and I will
answer: my next is, 'Most fair Pyramus.' Heigh-ho!
Peter Quince! Flute, the bellows-mender! Snout,
the tinker! Starveling! God's my life, stolen
hence, and left me asleep! I have had a most rare
vision. I have had a dream, past the wit of man to
say what dream it was: man is but an ass, if he go
about to expound this dream. Methought I was--there
is no man can tell what. Methought I was,--and
methought I had,--but man is but a patched fool, if
he will offer to say what methought I had. The eye
of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not
seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue
to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream
was. I will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of
this dream: it shall be called Bottom's Dream,
because it hath no bottom; and I will sing it in the
latter end of a play, before the duke:
peradventure, to make it the more gracious, I shall
sing it at her death.

The way we adapted it ~
BOTTOM[Awaking] When my cue comes, call me, and I will
answer: my next is, 'Most fair Pyramus.' Heigh-ho!
Peter Quince! Flute, the bellows-mender! Snout,
the tinker! Starveling! The have gone away and left me asleep!

I have had a most rare vision.

I have had a dream, past the ability of man to
say what dream it was: I thought I was-- I thought I was,--and
I thought I had--but man is but a complete fool, if
he will say what I thought I had...If any man tries to tell this dream, he is but an (he reaches up and feels for his missing ears - then shrugs at the audience.)
The eye of man has not heard, the ear of man has not
seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue
to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream
was.

I will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of
this dream: it shall be called Bottom's Dream,
because it hath no bottom; and I will sing it in the
latter end of a play, before the duke:
peradventure, to make it the more gracious, I shall
sing it at her death.

There were other people who were involved in getting this play ready for performance.
The 4th grade class decided (on their own I might add) to take on the project of doing the scenery for Midsummer Night's Dream. This consisted of burlap type fabric tubes that could be used for columns at the various interior places in the play ... they would be able to be raised and lowered ... and a delightful enormous burlap tree (cut-out ~ based on the school symbol "The Lyre Tree) that was painted and decorated, which would suffice for all the forest scenes. This could also be raised and lowered. The raising and lowering was not as smooth as a Broadway or East End production, but they were incredibly pleased anyway.

--more Sunday.

I will be attending Gamer Musicon 90 at the Symphony tomorrow which consists of two different concerts using music from on-line and Xbox/Playstation games and various vendor demonstrations of new games. There are also two panel discussions with people from Blizzard and such. It will be fun and quite long. The first concert starts at 3:00pm and the second at 7:30pm ~ this concert will end at 10:00pm. I will end most likely shortly after that!!

The Course Of - Whatever - Never Did Run Smooth (4) ~ Late Evening Thoughts

--continuing from night before last and posts prior

As I said, there seemed to be a battalion that came and got me out of the bushes and up the side of the path (a nice, basically straight down drop) and without too much yelling in pain on my part, took me and my broken arm to the hospital. There was the usual checking-in process, and then the Doctor arrived. At that point, he discovered that I had eaten dinner, so ~ knocking me out with anesthetic and setting the arm was not going to be possible until the morning. My arm was placed in a cloth type tube and I was attached to an IV stand ... the arm is now straight up (well, as straight as a completely broken arm can be) and I've been left in the bed. He ordered some pills to take away the pain - and allow me to get some rest.

The pills didn't work. Well, they did numb the pain, but wired me. There was no sleep that night. In a sense, this was a good thing because it gave me a lot of time to think ... about the plays, about what caused the break and to finally come up with two wonderful solutions. The first solution was the problem between the teacher and I and the second - even more important - solution was how to handle Bottom's infamous line about a "man may still be an ass." The first solution came from my addled, wired brain ~ the second from my arm hanging straight up in the air.

After what seemed as if The Longest Day have become The Longest Night, the nurses came and got me and off I went to surgery. The arm was set, put in what seemed like an ENORMOUS cast - and I woke up absolutely starving!! I was finally released and sent off to head back to my apartment for the rest of the day. Well, I should have gone directly back to my apartment for the rest of the day ~ but I stopped at the Quad at school to see the two teachers and let the students know that I was doing fine. A bit woozy, but fine.

The 6th grade teacher and I sat down and done what I should have done in the first place - we talked. My solution was actually quite simple (aren't most of them?) I would have her sit in at all the rehearsals and she would not put in/take out anything unless I was either there or we talked about it. Big smiles all around. Then I dropped my solution for Bottom's line ~ and we both laughed out loud over it.

The next day (as I remember) there was a rehearsal for Julius Caesar, and the actors were quite anxious to show me what they had accomplished and ready to begin the battle scene. Our elementary rehearsal space was simply not going to be good enough, and Parker Hall was available ~ so ~ up we went to the High School and to rehearse on the "big" stage.

Usually, the only time the elementary students performed on the stage was for music or dance recitals and once a year for the elementary talent show. So, getting "on the stage" was a big deal, and regarded with appropriate awe.

--more tomorrow

The Course Of - Whatever - Never Did Run Smooth (3) ~ Late Evening Thoughts

--- continued from July 10th ~

I had -- in a moment of mental aberration -- left the 5th grade students aware that there was going to be at least one battle scene in their production of Julius Caesar ... this was followed by a battle with the 5th grade teacher. At the time, I had not formulated in my mind exactly how it was going to happen, but assured her it would be safe for everyone -- including the audience and provide some excitement to those watching.

The major problem was going to be weapons -- cardboard was not going to work, and i certainly wasn't going to try and round up a bunch of swords to place in the hands of my joyous and raucous 5th graders. Little did I know ~

The High School Science teacher a couple of days later (as I remember) talked to me in the staff dining room (where an incredible number of things seemed to be forever being discussed and/or decided) about the play and his interest in it. We got around the the battle scene and he told me that he had discovered a cache of bayonets at the kabardiwalla (I'm not sure of the spelling - forgive me) -- which means the local 2nd hand shop and he was sure I would be able to borrow them for the show.

Off we went to the shop, and there they were ... in all their nasty and dangerous glory. Unfortunately, the danger part really didn't dawn on me ... didn't even enter my thoughts. I immediately saw the scene in my mind and the realization of how much fun it would be to put together pushed all other concerns out of my mind.

They were triangular basically black - and - most exciting of all, they gave off sparks when struck together. (cue music from the beach assault in The Longest Day here.) At this point I lost all shred of sanity as far as the production was concerned, and the battle scene was about to become something that probably belonged in a movie about advancing on the beach at D-day!!

Now Midsummer Night's Dream was certainly not left out of the process. There was still the problem of Bottom's line about a man may still be an ass and then I found out that I would put something into rehearsal and the 6th grade teacher would take it out. This had been going on for sometime before I found out about it. I was getting frustrated with the students not remembering what I wanted them to do/say and them not wanting to tell me what was going on in the classroom.

So now we were down to two super-sized egos .. I was of the opinion that you don't mess with my show and she was of the opinion that you don't mess with her class. I found out late in the day and I got more and more angry as I went down the hill (literally) to the High School boys dorm where I was assistant supervisor and had my apartment. The longer I thought about it, the more angry I became. I decided, at that point, that I would go over to the High School girl's dormitory (where she had an apartment) and have it out with her - once and for all time!!

Now, if you look at the picture you will see a building on the hillside at the left edge. That was the starting point A -- the building on the hill on the right of the picture was finishing point B ... with a path and the middle school boys dorm hovering around the middle. Part f the path was lit, and parts were narrow and not. It was a path that everyone did several times a day on some days - and once a week, the High School boys make a treck to the High School girl's dorm for a dance. It was a path I knew well. I also knew that at that time of night, I needed to take a flashlight along, but I did not.

I am now charging along the path, heading to the middle building readying in my mind exactly how this was going to work and what I was going to accomplish or else!! That's when the "or else" happened in a moment. To this day, I'm not completely sure what happened - all I knew was that I ended up down the "chud" (pronounced cud .. again, I apologize for the spelling -- it meant cliff literally) as it was called with a broken arm. Unfortunately, I was too far entangled and too far down and hurting FAR too much to get myself out ... I began to yell for help. Finally, one of the workers heard me and tossed down what looked like a piece of twine. I finally convinced him that I was going to need more help then that ... and in due course, some kind of battalion arrived and got me to the hospital which was about a half-mile away.

---more tomorrow

Sorry About This ~ Early Evening Thoughts

I will be away until quite late this evening -- I will continue the story of the Shakespeare Experiment tomorrow ... But let me leave you with a picture that STILL causes me to laugh (probably because I have a Blackberry, and can relate!!!)




You can click the picture to enlarge it somewhat ....

---back tomorrow

The Course Of - Whatever - Never Did Run Smooth (2) ~ Late Evening Thoughts

---Continuing from last night

While Bottom's ass, or rather his line containing the word ass was becoming a major sticking point between the teacher and I concerning the Midsummer Night's Dream script adaptation ... the 5th graders were beginning to get VERY interested in just what and who Julius Caesar was going to be and what kind of play this might turn out to be.

This was going to be a first for both classes, before plays had been done in the main auditorium Parker Hall, but these were going to be done with scenery, lights, costumes and above all else ~ programs. Big stuff...as this meant there would need to be rehearsals outside of class and a performance outside of the elementary school quad area and timetable. The dining room (students and staff) , four dormitory staffs (5th-6th grade girls and boys, high school boys, high school girls), staff and administration all wanted their piece of the action and planning.

Parker Hall was the school's main purpose "rumpus" room - as I like to call it. There were innumerable concerts, recitals, meetings, plays and such. One year in the last four weeks of school there were 18 different events ... all of which required several rehearsals, settings, lights, a dress rehearsal and ticketed performance. As most of the seats weren't numbered and were plastic stackable chairs at that - this entailed a lot of number/row painting on the floor. If you think that politicians have turf wars, just imagine trying to standardize performance seating charts for each of the departments of a school that had been going their merry way for over 150 years. As the saying goes: "It was so not going to happen ... in anyone's lifetime."

I assembled some props, and the 5th grade students were given their scripts to read. Now, here comes the part where real life intersected with the class room. These students worked not only on their regular school work, which was intense but also time in the day was found to read the script and after the casting was done to learn and rehearse the script. I saw these students once a week for a little over an hour, so much of the work was going to fall on the classroom teachers. Fortunately, this is something they were aware of and welcomed (at first anyway).

I meet with the 5th graders and showed them the cute little paper model of the Globe theater and did my story about what plays would have looked like and sounded like during that time. We laughed over the fact that King Lear and Hamlet take four hours to do the complete script today, but at that time they managed to get through them in a little under 2 hours. (that was my story, and I'm sticking to it!!) I also talked about the children's troupes that used to perform Shakespeare to highly appreciative audiences and we talked about what that might have been like.

In all honesty, I was not looking forward to a discussion of the play. I was thinking that it was going to be somewhat difficult to explain the over reaching theme(s), the types of people these folks were, etc. I should not have worried ... I told them we would start at the first scene and talk about the play. I decided that I would ask a (what I was sure would a rhetorical ) question about the crowd in the first scene. Almost everyone's hand went up. I chose a smiling young lady who informed me that "The crowd represents just how fickle people can be. They are all excited and thrilled with someone and want them to be everything to them and then just a quickly can turn on them and want them dead ~ or kill them themselves."

All I could think of was the fact that I had high school students taking my Shakespearean Tragedy class that took a couple of days and a lot of coaxing to figure out that one concept. At that point I knew we were not going to have a single problem figuring out the play.

The next point that had to be dealt with was the fact the 1) there were a large number of girls in the class and 2) there were only two parts for women in the show neither of which was exactly lengthy. I assured them ~ in a moment of total brain failure ~ that they would not only be able to participate in the crowd scene(s) but the battle(s) as well. The look from the teacher will simply be recorded in this space as "the look."

--more tomorrow

which may include the story of the bayonets and the battle of the ages

The Course Of - Whatever - Never Does Run Smooth ~ Late Afternoon Thoughts

Marja at her delightful blog "Dutch Corner" did a 4th of July post about being introduced to one of Shakespeare's zanier comedies "Midsummer Night's Dream." And I had left a comment about "Years ago (in a galaxy far away) my 6th grade drama students did an adaptation of this wonderful play." --> her post is here <--

This week as I was moving things around, under the guise of "getting rid of somethings" .. I found the "gift" they had given me after the performance. And for a second time a flood of memories charged back demanding to be written down.

This occurred while I was teaching in India.

At that time, I was a teacher of English, Speech and Drama. The English, Speech portion involved grades 10-12 and Drama was divided up into Creative Drama grades 1-6 and Drama grades 10-12. Yes, there was a three year gap, but neither my schedule or the syllabus allowed for much more than doing a week long intensive theater performance with the 7th graders once a year.

The Shakespeare "experiment" started, as things so often do, on the way to somewhere else.

The 5th and 6th graders had done short plays before, and I was really not thrilled with what we had done, and they were a little dissatisfied with the level of plays available to be done. I was a little gun-shy about writing a couple of plays for them. I had done that twice for my High School students and while they loved them and "got" them, the administration was not terribly enthusiastic about them. 'Twas a quandary...and a puzzlement!!

I don't know how many of you are acquainted with "My Weekly Reader **" but when I was growing up, it's arrival in the classroom (we each got our OWN copy) was 2nd only to the Weekly Reader book sale ~ as I remember, once or twice a year. For years in school, this little newspaper brought fun, learning and insight to all who received it. When I was teaching at Woodstock School, I knew that it was available, but didn't realize that the students enjoyed it just as much as I had.

As I remember, it was in the staff dining room where the 5th grade teacher showed me a issue that contained a very short (10 or 12 lines) of one of the speeches from Julius Caesar and the article accompanying the adaptation (if that's the right word for it) about Rome and current affairs. As we were talking, (cue the theme from ANY Judy Garland, Micky Rooney "Let's put on a show" movie here.") One thing led to another, And I had agreed to adapt the play to their level, and do a Shakespeare segment as their drama classes. The 6th grade teacher, not to be outdone, wanted a play for her class as well. Well, why not (cue violins from Psycho shower scene here) ... why not a comedy - Midsummer Night's Dream wasn't being done anywhere around ... so, why not.

The major "why not" was the script(s) ... my agreement meant that I not only had to come up with two adaptations of major theatrical works, but would now need to stage them as well. Any student of Theater or Theatrical Literature knows the Julius Caesar text to use - and I don't think the cover has changed much in over (a certain number of years) ... And Midsummer Night's was available almost anywhere, so I set to work. Interesting enough, it was the adaptation of Midsummer Night's Dream that proved to be the most difficult.

As a play that is basically one big "romp" ... it is full of sexual innuendos and some not-so innuendo. And taking away completely everything that might ring slightly off would turn the play into a big nothing. Then, there is the magic, fairies and sprites wandering around ... this being a school high in the Himalaya Mountains depending on mission boards for teachers, support and some income (to say nothing of a stream of students!!) was somewhat vexing.

The teacher and I worked closely and sometimes contentiously about the wording. The most amusing part was what to do with Bottom's famous line (after being released from his donkey's head) that "sometimes a man might still be an ass." That line went in and out of the script more times than most people breathe in a day!! And was still a problem up to the final rehearsals ...

--- more to come ...

** FYI ~ (My) Weekly Reader has been in continuous publication since 1928 ~ to quote Wikipedia: The first edition was produced for the fourth grade, and appeared in September 1928. Its cover story was entitled "Two Poor Boys Who Made Good Are Now Running for the Highest Office in the World," and focused on the childhoods of Herbert Hoover and Al Smith.

-- and yes, that is a picture of Woodstock School ... I just wish it was mine!

It's All In The Drink ~ early afternoon thoughts

It all makes sense now,

Subject: Derivative markets, an understandable explanation

Heidi is the proprietor of a bar in Detroit . In order to increase sales, she decides to allow her loyal customers - most of whom are unemployed alcoholics - to drink now but pay later. She keeps track of the drinks consumed on a ledger (thereby granting the customers loans).

Word gets around about Heidi's drink now pay later marketing strategy and as a result, increasing numbers of customers flood into Heidi's bar and soon she has the largest sale volume for any bar in Detroit .

By providing her customers' freedom from immediate payment demands, Heidi gets no resistance when she substantially increases her prices for wine and beer, the most consumed beverages. Her sales volume increases massively.

A young and dynamic vice-president at the local bank recognizes these customer debts as valuable future assets and increases Heidi's borrowing limit. He sees no reason for undue concern since he has the debts of the alcoholics as collateral. At the bank's corporate headquarters, expert traders transform these customer loans into DRINKBONDS, ALKIBONDS and PUKEBONDS.

These securities are then traded on security markets worldwide. Naive investors don't really understand the securities being sold to them as AAA secured bonds are really the debts of unemployed alcoholics. Nevertheless, their prices continuously climb, and the securities
become the top-selling items for some of the nation's leading brokerage houses.

One day, although the bond prices are still climbing, a risk manager at the bank (subsequently fired due his negativity), decides that the time has come to demand payment on the debts incurred by the drinkers at Heidi's. Heidi demands payment from her alcoholic patrons, but being unemployed they cannot pay back their drinking debts. Therefore, Heidi cannot fulfill her loan obligations and claims bankruptcy.

DRINKBOND and ALKIBOND drop in price by 90 %. PUKEBOND performs better, stabilizing in price after dropping by 80 %. The decreased bond asset value destroys the banks liquidity and prevents it from issuing new loans.

The suppliers of Heidi's bar, having granted her generous payment extensions and having invested in the securities are faced with writing off her debt and losing over 80% on her bonds. Her wine supplier claims bankruptcy, her beer supplier is taken over by a competitor, who immediately closes the local plant and lays off 50 workers.

The bank and brokerage houses are saved by the Government following dramatic round-the-clock negotiations by leaders from both political parties. The funds required for this bailout are obtained by a tax levied on employed middle-class non-drinkers.

Finally an explanation I understand .....

Parental Moments ~ Early Evening Thoughts

About the time my daughter was in High School. a ladies only strip club had made the news here in town. It was owned by a former dancer of note (according to his press releases) and had become quite the party spot. It had (at that time) a firm "ladies only" policy ~ so, from what we understood the evenings were fairly raucous. This became quite the topic of conversation from my daughter and she was making all sorts of devious plans to go. I didn't worry too much about it as 1) she was way to young to get in and 2) I doubted she would really have gone even if she could have gotten into the place and 3) she was talking out loud about the plans ~ probably to see what kind of reaction it would get.

My daughter also loved to go to the various trade shows (travel), home and garden shows and the other exhibitions during the year. She was the exact opposite of my ex-wife. who could tolerate those kind of gatherings for - oh - maybe ten minutes and then was done. My daughter, on the other hand, loved to go, look and see everything that was there. She also was beginning to "scope" out men which was quite funny to be around. She would decided someone was cute, and I'd tease her to go talk to him, to which she would refuse, etc. It was a fun time to be around her ...

One week, there was a home and travel show at the convention center and I extended the invitation for her to come with me and for once, she decided that she didn't want to go but "Bring me home something from it, Dad." was the response.

So, I went and wandered around the exhibits on the main floor and then went to the second floor exhibits. In the center of all those exhibits was not only an exhibit for the club she had been talking about, but about 8 of the dancers were there as well. And yes, everything was quite G-rated. I wandered by and realized they were selling pictures, slides (!?!) and calenders. Ah ha!! A calender would be the ideal thing for her - if I could find one that she would be allowed to hang in her room! I found a large wall one with all 12 months and a different dancer for each month. This was a little more PG rated, but they were basically clothed and I was pretty sure that my ex (not ex at the time but later) would allow it in the house and in her room.

Not only did I get the calender, I got the dancers who were there to autograph the calender for her - and they each personalized it. I was sure it would be a great hit. (two of the dancers circled their birthdays with hearts - as if!!)

I waited to give it to her for several days. We were heading to do some shopping and I reminded her about the home/travel show and that it was too bad she wasn't there, because ... and then I told her who was there. It was a wonderful dramatic moment on her part as she was quite vocal about having missed them, etc. THEN, I gave her the calender.

A long silence followed, and all I could think was: "Oh, great, she doesn't like it!!" Finally I asked her if she was unhappy with it ...

Another long pause, then she replied that she did like it but ~ she said; "I just realized that there is no way I could date someone who has bigger boobs and more hair than I do!"

12 days of Christmas ~ What REALLY happened!! ~ Early Evening Thoughts

You won't see this on a TV commercial - when gift-giving goes wrong - horribly wrong!!

The Twelve Days of Christmas ~
What Really Happened...

Letter sent on the first day of Christmas...

Miss Jennifer Masters
227 Aggar Avenue
Bigfork, Montana


December 14, 2000

Dearest John:

I went to the door today and the postman delivered a partridge in a pear tree. What a thoroughly delightful gift. I couldn't have been more surprised.
With deepest love and devotion,
Jennifer

Letter mailed on the second day of Christmas...

Miss Jennifer Masters
227 Aggar Avenue
Bigfork, Montana

December 15, 2000

Dearest John:

Today the postman brought your very sweet gift. Just imagine two turtle doves. I'm just delighted at your very thoughtful gift. They are just adorable.
All my love,
Jennifer


Letter sent on the third day of Christmas...

Miss Jennifer Masters
227 Aggar Avenue
Bigfork, Montana

December 16, 2000

Dearest John:

Oh! Aren't you the extravagant one. Now I really must protest. I don't deserve such generosity, Three French hens. They are just darling but I must insist, you've been too kind.
Love,
Jennifer

Letter mailed on the fourth day of Christmas...

Miss Jennifer Masters
227 Aggar Avenue
Bigfork, Montana

December 17, 2000

Dear John,

Today the postman delivered 4 calling birds. Now really, they are beautiful but don't you think enough is enough. You're being too romantic.
Affectionately,
Jennifer

Letter mailed on the fifth day of Christmas...

Miss Jennifer Masters
227 Aggar Avenue
Bigfork, Montana

December 18, 2000

Dearest John:

What a surprise. Today the postman delivered 5 golden rings; one for every finger. You're just impossible, but I love it. Frankly, all those birds squawking were beginning to get on my nerves.
All my love,
Jennifer

Letter mailed on the sixth day of Christmas...

Miss Jennifer Masters
227 Aggar Avenue
Bigfork, Montana

December 19, 2000

Dear John:

When I opened the door there were actually 6 geese a-laying on my front steps. So, you're back to the birds again, huh? Those geese are huge. Where will I ever keep them? The neighbors are complaining and I can't sleep through the racket.
Please stop.

Cordially,
Jennifer

Letter mailed on the seventh day of Christmas...

Miss Jennifer Masters
227 Aggar Avenue
Bigfork, Montana

December 20, 2000

John:

What's with you and those crazy birds? 7 swans a-swimming. What kind of terrible joke is this? There's bird droppings and worse all over the house, and they never stop with the racket. I can't sleep at night and I'm a nervous wreck. It's not funny. So stop sending me all these birds!
Sincerely,
Jennifer

Letter mailed by special delivery the eighth day of Christmas...

Miss Jennifer Masters
227 Aggar Avenue
Bigfork, Montana

December 21, 2000

O.K. Buster:

I think I prefer the birds. What am I going to do with 8 maids a-milking? It's not enough with all those birds and 8 maids a-milking, but they had to bring their cows! There is crap all over the lawn and I can't move in my own house.
Just lay off me,smart ass.
Jennifer

Letter mailed (return receipt requested) the ninth day of Christmas...

Miss Jennifer Masters
227 Aggar Avenue
Bigfork, Montana

December 22, 2000

Hey! Flushing Toilet for Brains,
What are you? Some kind of sadist? Now there's 9 pipers playing. And boy, do they play. They've never stopped chasing those maids since they got here yesterday morning. The cows are getting upset, and they're stepping all over those screeching birds. What am I going to do? The neighbors have started a petition to evict me.
You'll get yours,
Jennifer

Letter sent by overnight courier the tenth day of Christmas...

Miss Jennifer Masters
227 Aggar Avenue
Bigfork, Montana

December 23, 2000

You Rotten Sadist,
Now there's 10 ladies dancing. I don't know why I call those sluts ladies. They've been messing with those pipers all night long. Now the cows can't sleep and they've got the diarrhea. My living room buried in soft cow pies. The Commissioner of Buildings has subpoenaed me to give cause why this building shouldn't be condemned.
I'm sicking the police on you.
One who means it.

Letter sent by telegram the eleventh day of Christmas...

Miss Jennifer Masters
227 Aggar Avenue
Bigfork, Montana

December 24, 2000

Listen! Loser,
What's with the 11 lords a-leaping on those maids and ladies. Some of them are considering filing sexual harassment charges against ME for having those #@$*() lords! Those pipers ran through the maids and I'm convinced are beginning to think about the cows. All 23 of the birds are dead. They've been trampled to death in the mayhem. I hope you're satisfied,you rotten, vicious swine.
Your sworn enemy,
Jennifer

Letter hand delivered by a sheriff's deputy the twelfth day of Christmas...

Law Offices
Badger, Bender and Cajole
303 Knave Street
Chicago, Illinois

December 25, 2000

Dear Sir:
This is to acknowledge your latest gift of 12 fiddlers fiddling which you have seen fit to inflict on our client, Miss Jennifer Masters. The destruction of the house, of course, was total. All future correspondence should come to our attention. If you should attempt to reach Miss Masters at Happy Valley Sanitarium, the attendants have instructions to shoot you on sight.
Please note that under separate cover, the deputy who delivered this has a warrant for your arrest.
Wishing you the best for the holidays!
Badger, Bender and Cajole

And The Beat Goes On ~ Early Afternoon Thoughts

Normally I use early afternoon thoughts for elegant time wasters, I found there actually were legitimate times wasters in the real world over the last several weeks. In the recent spate of headlines there were several news stories about a councilwoman who objected to another councilman saying that the "paperwork would disappear into a black hole. . . " I always thought that astronomical term was perfectly respectable, and could be used to describe the mythological place where things (even the socks from the dryer) could be described as disappearing.

Evidently the PC Police feel otherwise. Now, had the man said "black Ho" I might have understood - but black hole? What is this woman going to demand - that Astronomy change its term? That the Black Hole of Calcutta of history be renamed? Hold up on the cards the letters, I DO know that the Calcutta story has been debunked . . .

By this point I was ready to get on a roll of time wasters, and was perusing the blogs I follow on a regular basis when I was literally knocked off my soap box (which was pretty large by-the-way) by the following from the blog Joe.My.God . . .

For some time I had followed a blog called Coopers Corrider where a gay man adopted two children and aside from being an incredible writer allowed us inside his life and feelings.

Joe titled his post:

Apology Revoked
(And Munchausen-By-Blog Syndrome)

And then the OMG portion of my day began -

"Oh, gentle readers, what a twisted, fascinating, maddening, saddening place is this thing called The Internets.

Remember Cooper? The firefighter gay dad of two adopted boys who pulled his widely-loved blog after an "attack" of malicious comments and emails from the readers of this blog? Causing me to get extremely bent of out shape and offer Cooper a heartfelt (really) public apology? Over the last few days our little blogosphere has retched forth some unpleasant, uncomfortable revelations about Cooper.

The short version:
He is not a firefighter.
He is not an adoptive father.
He is not gay.
He is not, in fact, a he. "

(OK ~ now I'm really intrigued.)

"Intrigued? The long version:

The story began to unfold at Sweet/Salty, the blog of a woman named Kate, a young mother dealing with the death of her infant son. On the day of the supposed attack on Cooper's blog by JMG readers, Kate had emailed him, extremely distressed to have discovered that Cooper had lifted many of her gorgeously written posts verbatim, including photographs of her husband.

Upon receipt of Kate's surprisingly kind request to remove her plagiarized material, Cooper deleted his blog and apparently then concocted the JMG attack story to placate his legion of starry-eyed readers, people who avidly followed Cooper's Corridor as a place where they saw their most earnest ideals about gay parenting realized.

Shortly afterwards, Cooper's Corridor resumed as Nico's Niche, a private blog where Kate's material continued to appear. Kate found my public apology to Cooper and emailed me about the situation. Knowing that Father Tony has had a longtime internet friendship with Cooper, I put him on the case. What he uncovered may blow your mind.

According to the bizarre confession wrangled by Father Tony, Cooper's Corridor/Nico's Niche was written by a woman, a 52-year-old British Columbia grandmother named Jo, who says that ever since she was a little girl she has felt that she is a gay man trapped in a woman's body. Cooper/Nico (Jo claims) was a concoction created in order to deal with her lifelong gender identity disorder. She says she calls her inner gay man "Nicky".

Oh, but hang on a minute, it gets curiouser still. Turns out that there are extremely similar aspects between the Cooper/Nico story and another infamous case of blog imposterism. Years ago there was the (now-infamous in the gay blogosphere) case of A Priori Ad Lib, a blog supposedly written by a gay Canadian grade school teacher slowly dying from leukemia. The dying gay teacher's name? Nicky. Who lived in British Columbia. Who turned out to be a woman, exposed when a blog pal of mine attempted to actually visit "him" in the hospital only to find no such person existed.

As the initial outrage and sense of betrayal about Cooper died down a bit, there have been some rather generous expressions of pity towards Jo/Cooper/Nicky. Kate (the blogger whose occasionally tortured, but always lovely prose was stolen) has been by turns baffled, angry, stunned...but most of all, kind. (Her readers, understandably, not so much.) Even as evidence was put forward that Jo had plagiarized other blogs, the conversation turned to pleas for understanding for the mentally ill.

Go read Kate's initial angry post, then you absolutely must delve into Father Tony's post, where in addition to publishing Jo's emailed "confession", he muses in his typically artful way about the anonymous nature of the internet and how much we can ever really know about people, even when we think we have an insider's view of their day-to-day lives.

To my readers who leapt to defend "Cooper", I thank you for your kind words to him, however misguided we all were. I know some of you had even sent Christmas presents for "Cooper's" nonexistent children, so I can only imagine how incredibly betrayed you feel. Jo has told Father Tony that she's been suicidal over being exposed, but has found a mental health counselor and is considering gender reassignment surgery. Color me extremely skeptical on that, but at the end of day what we have here is a very troubled person who needs help of some kind.

Even this post may please the sort of person who engages in what I call "Munchausen-by-blog syndrome", but consider this yet another unhappy lesson about trust, gullibility, and how we as gay people are sometimes overeager to find our heroes."

Aside from leaving me speechless ~ A difficult feat in itself ~ I was struck by the last paragraph (as in the solar plexus). I have to take a little issue with Joe on the last line, I don't think it's only gays that are overeager to find heroes ~ I think many people have fallen into the "Hero de Jour" trap.

It's about time ~ Early Evening Thoughts

It's about time that I climbed out of my writer's slumber, my ~ whatever it's called and get back to writing here.

For those whom I know from the blog, I apologize for the delay. Just know, that life actually has gotten quite nice and ~ being me ~ not without it's humorous adventure side.

Starting tomorrow I'm back in the saddle and ready to continue blabbing sharing what's been happening and what is going on...

First up, I'm going to finish the story of what brought me to this point and I've also got a new collection of Elegant Timewasters ...

warm valley —
countless geese
seeking refuge


moonrise —
the dark night of a soul
lifts

Biting off
more than I can chew —
a broken wisdom tooth.

chanting canyon streams

Opening bell
echoes from the canyon walls --
raindrops on the river.

The sounds of rocks bouncing off rocks;
the shadows of trees traced on trees.

I sit, still.
The canyon river chants,
moving mountains.

The sermon spun on the still point:
dropping off eternity, picking up time;
letting go of self, awakened to Mind.

---Above the Fog ~ Short Poems by Michael P. Garofalo
Selections from Cuttings

---more tomorrow

The New Year Begins With A Look Back (part 4) ~ Late Evening Thoughts

Life is a journey not for us to be lowered into the grave all pretty and looking rested. It is a journey for us to slide into the grave broadside ~ banged up, used up but still proclaiming ~
Wow!!! What a ride...WOW!!! What a RIDE!!!

(You can read the previous posts here ... >1<..>2<..>3<..)

At the ending of the last post, I still had (and have) no idea how long I had been in the trauma unit. I have only some fading in and out memories. I do know that the white coats were re-joined by the black t-shirts. I also remember a discussion about x-rays and MRI. I remember being aware of all the tubes and machines. I didn't have a neck/back board, but everyone kept telling me not to move my head very much. I felt that "they" thought I was a dislocated bobble-head doll. I remember being taken to the MRI room, where I was confronted for the first time with the donut machine. My immediate reaction was that it looked bigger on TV.

I was asked if I knew where I was. I replied that I had been taken to the machine where you were to lay absolutely quiet and not breath if at all possible ~ there was no memory of what the machine was actually called. I suppose they thought I was being an "educated donkey" as there were some chuckles. I was frightened as I really couldn't recall what the thing was called. (hospital machines for $800 Alex.) I finally had a memory kick in that there wasn't supposed to be any metal around and I literally panicked ~ about 15 years ago I had stomach surgery and there were a LOT of staples in there.

I was convinced ~ I'd seen enough TV and movies to know ~ that all that metal was going to rip out of my body and attach itself to the revolving magnets. I was reassured that there would be no such incident as they weren't going down that low . . . and unless the staples were in my head, I was OK. I made it through ~ without breathing I might add ~ and then fade out/fade in. I was being taken to surgery...long hallways...strong smells...funny looking lights. There was a sudden stop (must have been a student driver with a learning permit)

There was a realization that I had not signed even more forms. This meant that somewhere in this hospital maze I was trying to listen to what I had to sign, still didn't have my glasses and still couldn't see what I was signing. Of course, in a trauma unit operating rooms are at a premium and tightly scheduled. This was turning into a delay that needed to be hurried up...STAT! And we were off again to the races. My mind (what was left of it) hauled out a memory of a terribly frightening Discover Health show about people who wake up during operations ~ they feel everything including the pain, but because of the paralyzing drug given to them, they are unable to tell anyone they are awake. Now that certainly added to my comfort level and my already high hysteria level. Not eating or sleeping for a number of weeks can do strange things to you!

We arrived in the operating room, and I was convinced it was a broom closet - at least what I could see. The room was very dark except for the lights on the table where I was being placed. There were two "wings" for my arms that were raised up - which made getting me onto the table quite interesting. And then ~ get this ~ the anesthesiologist made me very angry by lying to me. I had been lying to myself and others for weeks - had just committed suicide and I'm angry?? All he did was tell me that the mask he was putting on my face was going to help me breathe...and right before I finally was allowed/forced to pass out, I'm angry? (right mind behavior, correct?)

When I finally awoke, I had no memory of the recovery room and how I ended up in the hospital bed. A nurse was standing by as I tried to focus my mind and eyes. I felt the bandages on my head and neck. As they were BOTH vertical bandages, I was a little confused ~ the one on my head was OK - that was a vertical gash. The ones on my neck confused me as the slits I had made were horizontal and this was about a 10 inch VERTICAL bandage/gash. It was explained to me the operation I had undergone was by a neurosurgeon who literally opened my neck from the jawline down and did exploratory surgery to see if I had bruised, nicked or damaged anything.

---more of the story tomorrow

Thanks to several of you for the encouraging emails......

O O P P S S ! ~ Late Afternoon Thoughts

I meant to add this to last night's post. When I flew up to Montana to speak at my Mother's memorial service as I was preparing my remarks, I found this saying conveniently attached to the candy jar. As a matter of fact, it fell off as I walked by ...

Life is a journey not for us to be lowered into the grave all pretty and looking rested. It is a journey for us to slide into the grave broadside ~ banged up, used up but still proclaiming (shouting?) ~

Wow!!! What a ride...WOW!!! What a RIDE!!!

---more later

Thankful? Grateful? ~ Early Afternoon Thoughts

For those who have been following this blog (even during the unintended/intended) absence ~ I want to let you know that my Mother is slipping away. While this is not a totally joyful occasion, please be aware that I am totally at peace with what is going on. I have no unresolved issues with her, no excess baggage that has to be dealt with. I will, however, be flying to Montana tomorrow afternoon and will return to Texas late Wednesday night. Trust me - where my mother is there is NO computer connection (sorry Laurie!!!) so I will report on the trip next weekend.

Now, for the heart of this posting -- I was talking to a couple of friends this week, one is an addict and the other a really hard-core alcoholic. We were discussing being thankful and grateful ~ and the difference between them. Some of what I am posting relates directly to them, but thought about it, I realized the questions related to everyone.

Am I/you/we grateful?

Supposedly we are celebrating being thankful this week ~ but it appears that the Thanksgiving part has been shoved off the shelves for the next event in the calendar. But, has that spirit of being grateful vanished from the shelves of my life as well? Am I truly grateful?

Am I grateful for a place? For the shelter from more than just the elements of weather ~ but grateful for the shelter sometimes from others and sometimes even from myself?

Am I grateful for myself? for the who/what that I am? Am I grateful for the recovery from addiction(s) help me keep my life in balance? Am I grateful for the possible metal diagnosis that will keep me very aware of what is going on around me and within me ~ perhaps for the rest of my life?

Am I grateful for what I can do? Am I grateful for what I may be unable to do? And grateful for those who respect my limitations, but do not baby them either? And am I grateful for those who don't?

Am I grateful for my frustrations? Am I grateful for what I'm not being allowed to do? Am I grateful for the road-blocks in my way? Am I grateful for the mountains that seem insurmountable that I know I must go over as I unable to go around them ~ of under them?

Am I grateful for others? The ones who greet me on the way by? It's easy to be grateful for the ones I like, but what about the ones that I don't? Perhaps those are there to help me learn ~ such as patience, tolerance and long suffering (and they can make me suffer!) Perhaps by being grateful the annoyance will fade over time.

Am I grateful for what I have? While many of us have very little, there are those who have even less. Of course there will always be those who have even more, but am I able to be grateful for those as well?

Perhaps the universe will not trust me with more until I am truly grateful for all I have.

When I become grateful for all these things, then my heart will be at peace...my life can come back to manageability.

Desiderata

Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.

Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.

Max Ehrmann, Desiderata, Copyright 1952.

Being Thankful ~ A Small Early Evening Post

Over the next few posts, I'm going to share some of my personal journey over the last many weeks (it seems shorter than it actually was!!) and specifically, what I've been learning about being grateful/thankful. One of the many things I'm very thankful for is simply being alive...when at one point there was some doubt (in my mind anyway!) or course, there are some stories to tell - for instance, my problem caused the arrival of not only the ambulance but the police AND the fire department. It was as if an entire swat team had descended on the complex. The certainly was a lot of "thumping" around, which at one point reminded me of a performance of "Stomp." I think part of that was making me the stomp-ee....but more on that later.


The journey I've been on has been incredible, joyful, painful and sorrowful - sometimes all at the same time...but I am grateful!!

For those that have followed this blog, you also know that my Mother (age 94) suffers from TIA ... or mini-strokes. Two weeks ago, she fell down five concrete steps (the steps she knows she is not to use) and landed on her head on a concrete pad. She broke her shoulder below the socket, so there was no surgery they could do to "fix" it. Her arm was literally tied to her waist to keep it from moving. Unfortunately, she actually had a moderate stroke while in the hospital and spent last week in an intensive rehabilitation center - doing more in one day than she had done in probably the last 20 years.

She arrived back at her house on Saturday however, early this morning she had to be taken back to the hospital. I would appreciate thoughts/prayers for her at this time. I will know more about what is going on or not going on possibly as early as tomorrow.

It is good to be back with by blog - I have really missed sharing laughs, joys and even some of the sorrows.

The Case Of The Missing ... ~ Early Morning Thoughts

It was something out of an Agatha Christie mystery novel. Now, there certainly wasn't the "clickety-clackety" of a train track or mysterious visions in dark tunnels or various instruments of death being looked over by a Belgian ~ but it was a mystery none-the-less.


We had hired a maintenance man for the complex ~ he worked for a week then mysteriously (OK ~ not so mysteriously) disappeared. I was awakened Sunday morning at 4:30am by someone telling me that my maintenance man was bleeding all over the road, and that I needed to come out and see what was going on - or what had happened at the least.


Not being at my best at 4:30am, unless it's by choice (OK ~ I'll draw a curtain of discretion about early morning awakenings!), I was less than thrilled about being drawn out of the confines of my apartment to something that was going to involve blood, flood or fire.


He, evidently, decided to intervene in an argument that was occurring on the street. The two people (one male and one female) thought that his intervention was 1) annoying and 2) not necessary ~ did what amounted to a smack down. This, according to initial reports, involved a cut on the head and being slightly shaken up. One thing I have learned over the years ~ make sure that you really are needed to get in the middle of an argument, or BOTH parties of the argument are very apt to turn on you, and you will come out the worse for wear.


My maintenance man had ~ as far as I knew ~ a head cut (which always looks worse than it is) and was slightly banged up.

The last I saw of him was as he was being spirited away in an ambulance. I really had no idea that the next couple of days were going to be as a James Bond movie (remember which one involved taking someone away in an ambulance?) without the car and gadgets to go with it. It seemed as if he had dropped off the face of the earth ~ or at least off the face of my complex.

I found out today, it was far more serious and injurious. He had a broken (not sprained) ankle, and the surgeons last night had to move tendons from the leg to repair tendon damage ~ to say nothing of the plate and screws that were now in his ankle.

Finally, today we got the "rest of the story" and realized that he was not damaged beyond recognition, nor was he incarcerated for the long term.


By now, I was convinced that the "Twilight Zone" had overcome me, and nothing was as it seemed. Because he had disappeared with the keys, I had spent $95 petty cash to get the locks re-done (which he had had the keys attached to his belt) and tried to make sense of what had happened. However, not knowing where he was and/or what had happened to him I was basically at a loss.

As I found out today, his cell phone had also disappeared during the altercation, and all his phone numbers were in the phone. Having faced a similar situation recently when my phone battery literally "died" and I couldn't get any numbers from it ~ I could understand completely.

So now, I have a maintenance man in the hospital facing rehabilitation and wanting to work. This should prove an interesting combination.

And yet, life and the complex goes on ~ So, if you know of a maintenance man needing work ... just let me know...

Up And Down ~ Early Evening Thoughts

Just a couple of notes ... I had a visit to the doctor today, and she was very pleased with my progress. She is very sure that it was bronchitis AND a viral infection. Of course, she had to add something she didn't tell me the other day ~ which was her concern that it would digress into pneumonia. I'm glad she didn't add that to the mix, my mind was already working overtime on possible problems. Thank you for those who added comments or emails. They were very encouraging, uplifting and ~ frankly ~ a great comfort to me.

And I am happy to report I am about 98% healthy. There is still a little coughing - at least I can talk in complete sentences now - and some "residual" issues. However, I can report I am back in the "pink" of things and enjoying being up and around once again.

The "down" news of the day is that Beverly Sills lost her battle against cancer today. And a beautiful voice has been silenced and a major supporter of the arts and people is no more. And yes, I had a chance to meet her ~ and she was as delightful as people say she was!!! A true artist and a wonderful human being ~ for whom no one was beneath her ~ and as a result had a zest for life and people!!

I said in the last post, that I couldn't find a video of her performances with her close friend Carol Burnett -- but I finally did ... a wonderful mash-up of jazz and opera. It's on the Beverly Sills website, so I can't embed the video ... but --->here is the link<--- which is appropriately titled "The Farewell Medley." One final video ... At the age of seven, Sills was chosen to be in the film short "Uncle Sol Solves It" in which she played a precocious singer whose family had various ideas about where she should study voice. She is taken to sing for Uncle Sol in his "Problem Court." He decides, after her perky rendition of the Arditi classic, that she should study in America. (performed in 1936)



And so I say farewell to a wonderful person, an incredible talent and a person who only wanted the best in all she put her hand to do...and expected no less from those around her.

---more tomorrow