So this blog tends to be about getting out there and trying new things, expanding horizons, opening new doors. I'm a huge fan of all that. But I have to admit in some ways I'm about as resistant to change as a person can be. It's always something silly, but I can cling to the old and familiar sometimes with a death grip. The funny thing is, it's usually (or I guess I should say always) Lisa and John who drag me kicking and screaming away from my comfort zone. That's funny because in many if not most ways those two are much more conservative than me. Here's the most recent example.
I sit here writing this on a brand new, touch screen laptop computer. Lisa is next to me on the couch, I'm comfortable and relaxed with a coffee in easy reach. The TV is on a cooking show that she and I are both half watching and talking about (she's also on her laptop.) It's great. It's also been pretty normal for most of America for years. Laptops are everywhere and the desktop PC is about dead in the home. But in a very old man get-off-of-my-lawn kind of way, I've been completely dismissive of and even hostile to laptop computers since they appeared.
I didn't have a good reason. They were just "new" and I was used to my desktop and, and, and......well, I really can't think of anything else. It's totally unreasonable unless maybe you look at it in the wider context of technological advancement coming so fast it can be a bit scary to a 45 year old. Lisa had a laptop assigned to her when she worked for the State Port Pilot, like ten years ago, so I've seen it work and seen her use and love using it. She and John both got new ones a year or so ago and teased me for not even wanting one. I just dug in my heels.
We'd look at the laptops in Best Buy and I'd poo poo them. When the touch screen versions came out I was especially poo poo-y about THAT feature. What a gimmick, right? How entirely silly and useless.
Then Lisa ordered a Bluetooth keyboard for our Kindle tablet. I never would have bought one. But I tried it out when it came. well, more like a week or two after it came. I'm stubborn. I downloaded the Yahoo Mail app and used the Kindle to check my email. The keyboard came with a nifty little case that allows you to prop up the tablet with the keyboard laid out in front. I used my finger to scroll and select emails and the keyboard to type responses. It was entirely intuitive and natural, I guess because we all have been using touch screen phones for so long. But it was beyond intuitive, it was.......fun. I loved the combo of keyboard and touch screen, and no mouse. It dawned on me, no, it STRUCK me, that a touch screen laptop would be like this all the time.
I kind of sheepishly, for me, hinted around to Lisa that I was looking at these things. Lisa, much to her credit, did not do the HA! I told ya so! Dance. Instead, we stopped into Best Buy last weekend and found a reasonably priced touch screen laptop and bought it. And I LOVE it. I use it on my lap. I just reach up and touch whatever I want to see or do. I swipe and scroll and click. I can write on this blog without bansishing myself to the other room. I can reach over and poke Lisa in the side whenever I like. See, I just did :-) This is great!
I kinda feel like I'm living in Star Trek.
Kirk out.
Showing posts with label introspection. Show all posts
Showing posts with label introspection. Show all posts
Saturday, January 16, 2016
Thursday, January 7, 2016
So, How'd Those Resolutions Work Out?
Last year about this time I wrote a post about some New Year's resolutions I planned to make stick. It's fun to look back to a year ago and see what you expected or hoped to happen. It's kind of like a mini-cyber-time capsule of sorts. Cracking this one open might make for a fun post to begin 2016, so here we go.
I DID watch some TV last year. We saw all the Galavant shows (and watched the season 2 premier Sunday night, it's soooooo good). I discovered Star Wars Rebels on On Demand and Clone Wars and Daredevil on Netflix. But the TV watching thing was really kind of tongue in cheek. What it represented was spending more time in the living room and less in the office with the computer. As far as that went, mission accomplished.
The theatre board involvement sort of worked itself out, though not in a way I'd have expected this time last year. As 2015 began, it fell to myself and another board member, my friend Melanie, to do all the behind the scenes organizational stuff that allows a show to become reality. From Winnie The Pooh (which turned out to be one of my favorite shows ever) to a murder mystery party, to Godspell JR to a "directors' challenge" comedy show, to a Broadway revue in the park, to Shrek the Musical, Mel and I kept insanely busy making sure i's were dotted and t's crossed, making sure publicity happened and tickets were sold and rooms for rehearsals were assigned. There is A LOT beyond the jobs you see in a show's program that needs to happen, and Mel and I made sure it did. Then, about halfway through the year, we were each told to consider what roles we wanted to pursue in Brunswick Little Theatre. We were told that maybe being on the board wasn't a good idea as involved in shows as we were. Basically, we were told we were too involved in community theatre to serve on the community theatre board. We both resigned. I mean, who wants to be a part of THAT sort of thinking, right? If the board was no longer to be in the business of theatrical performing arts, I really had no interest.
Where that leaves the organization as a whole remains to be seen. This year they've scaled back considerably, choosing to drop the popular park show and the Big Summer Musical in favor of a slate of small-cast, small-crew, inexpensive-to-license, simple-set and -tech shows that can be easily produced in the converted church they rent as a home base. Those shows will all likely sell out (everything in there does, no matter what it is), but even so will reach fewer audience than just the park show and big summer musical alone typically bring in, which is a shame given their desire to raise enough funds to purchase the space they currently rent. Fewer souls with be reached, either as participants or audience, this year than any year in BLT's recent past. Be that as it may, it's no longer my problem, and that is liberating.
The reading thing was middling successful. I loved "Rivival." I finished the rest of Bernard Cornwell's Saxon Chronicles (though I see the next is out right about now), I read a new Star Wars novel. I pecked away at several Disney-related nonfiction books. I'm sitting on quite a few of them still, plus some new ones and this year they WILL get read, along with more fiction. I love to read and need to do it more.
I did buy that new GPS unit but have used it very little. This was a very inactive Geocaching year, something I once again hope to change in 2016.
I played a good bit of Disney Infinity in the first couple months of 2016. I did not get to the beach much at all. I didn't nap much, did clean out the computer room and did take a good number of day trips (even if many of them were band parent-related). I had the least productive year ever writing on this or my other blog.
What's this year have in store, you ask? Or you don't, it doesn't matter, I'm gonna tell you anyhow.
Even though BLT isn't doing anything that holds any interest for me, I've not left theatre behind. I'm organizing a BLT contingent to travel to Raleigh and participate in a marathon reading of all of Shakespeare's plays in conjunction with the NC Museum of History. I didn't give BLT any choice in the matter. Well, in my defense I DID forward the email to the board president and simply took lack of a "no" response as an endorsement of the idea and went ahead. That should be fun.
I'm also joining the Shrek creative team in exploring ways to keep the kinds of shows BLT did in the past but no longer seems (for now at least) interested in pursuing alive in Brunswick County. Can't say much more about that, but it's been fun brainstorming with two men who I admire so much. I'm really excited about the possibilities.
But it will be, I think, mostly groundwork-building. It certainly won't be devoting months of my life and my family's lives to a show this summer. It will leave time for the beach, something we tend to sadly neglect during "show summers." We'll be making trips to visit colleges, a sort of bitter-sweet thing as we prepare to send John off into the world. In the fall, Halloween to be exact, we'll be indulging in one last family trip to Disney World, including a behind the scenes tour, something I've wanted to share with Lisa and John for years.
Who knows what else lies in store. I certainly hope (once again) to be writing on this blog more and to begin again writing on Liberty's Harbor (I mean it IS an election year and all). I'm curious to know what this will look like in hindsight as I read it in January 2017, but I'm not so excited I want to rush it. 2016 could be a year of giving ourselves the time to enjoy simply living the Stites Life, and that would be perfect.
So that's what I'm resolving to do. I'm going to spend more time watching TV. It sounds like an anti-resolution, doesn't it? But it's symbolic of how this year will be different from last. I'm not a huge television guy, but there are amusing things on there I'd like to enjoy, things friends watch that I'd like to be able to discuss, things our whole family can sit and get into together, things Lisa and I can experience as a couple. It starts Sunday night with ABC's Galavant, which looks hilarious and Lisa and John have both expressed interest in. No more writing press releases or answering a dozen inane emails or updating the website or editing and sharing photos or balancing the BLT checkbook as first priority. I'll get around to the things I agree to continue to do, but it won't be as fast or as consistent. It won't be first on the list, and I regret that it ever was.
I DID watch some TV last year. We saw all the Galavant shows (and watched the season 2 premier Sunday night, it's soooooo good). I discovered Star Wars Rebels on On Demand and Clone Wars and Daredevil on Netflix. But the TV watching thing was really kind of tongue in cheek. What it represented was spending more time in the living room and less in the office with the computer. As far as that went, mission accomplished.
The theatre board involvement sort of worked itself out, though not in a way I'd have expected this time last year. As 2015 began, it fell to myself and another board member, my friend Melanie, to do all the behind the scenes organizational stuff that allows a show to become reality. From Winnie The Pooh (which turned out to be one of my favorite shows ever) to a murder mystery party, to Godspell JR to a "directors' challenge" comedy show, to a Broadway revue in the park, to Shrek the Musical, Mel and I kept insanely busy making sure i's were dotted and t's crossed, making sure publicity happened and tickets were sold and rooms for rehearsals were assigned. There is A LOT beyond the jobs you see in a show's program that needs to happen, and Mel and I made sure it did. Then, about halfway through the year, we were each told to consider what roles we wanted to pursue in Brunswick Little Theatre. We were told that maybe being on the board wasn't a good idea as involved in shows as we were. Basically, we were told we were too involved in community theatre to serve on the community theatre board. We both resigned. I mean, who wants to be a part of THAT sort of thinking, right? If the board was no longer to be in the business of theatrical performing arts, I really had no interest.
Where that leaves the organization as a whole remains to be seen. This year they've scaled back considerably, choosing to drop the popular park show and the Big Summer Musical in favor of a slate of small-cast, small-crew, inexpensive-to-license, simple-set and -tech shows that can be easily produced in the converted church they rent as a home base. Those shows will all likely sell out (everything in there does, no matter what it is), but even so will reach fewer audience than just the park show and big summer musical alone typically bring in, which is a shame given their desire to raise enough funds to purchase the space they currently rent. Fewer souls with be reached, either as participants or audience, this year than any year in BLT's recent past. Be that as it may, it's no longer my problem, and that is liberating.
I'm also going to read. I am part way through about 8 books and I'm going to finish them all. Stephen King's "Revival" is gripping me right now, and I've devoted time to it the last week or so, so I have a head start on that one. I'm going to buy a new handheld GPS and begin geocaching again. It gets us out of the house together, it shows us the world and it leads to paths full of roses to smell. I'm going to walk on the beach again. I'm going to play our new Disney Infinity game. I'm going to take naps, dig out the computer room and plan weekend or day trips to new places. I'm going to write on this blog much more.
The reading thing was middling successful. I loved "Rivival." I finished the rest of Bernard Cornwell's Saxon Chronicles (though I see the next is out right about now), I read a new Star Wars novel. I pecked away at several Disney-related nonfiction books. I'm sitting on quite a few of them still, plus some new ones and this year they WILL get read, along with more fiction. I love to read and need to do it more.
I did buy that new GPS unit but have used it very little. This was a very inactive Geocaching year, something I once again hope to change in 2016.
I played a good bit of Disney Infinity in the first couple months of 2016. I did not get to the beach much at all. I didn't nap much, did clean out the computer room and did take a good number of day trips (even if many of them were band parent-related). I had the least productive year ever writing on this or my other blog.
What's this year have in store, you ask? Or you don't, it doesn't matter, I'm gonna tell you anyhow.
Even though BLT isn't doing anything that holds any interest for me, I've not left theatre behind. I'm organizing a BLT contingent to travel to Raleigh and participate in a marathon reading of all of Shakespeare's plays in conjunction with the NC Museum of History. I didn't give BLT any choice in the matter. Well, in my defense I DID forward the email to the board president and simply took lack of a "no" response as an endorsement of the idea and went ahead. That should be fun.
I'm also joining the Shrek creative team in exploring ways to keep the kinds of shows BLT did in the past but no longer seems (for now at least) interested in pursuing alive in Brunswick County. Can't say much more about that, but it's been fun brainstorming with two men who I admire so much. I'm really excited about the possibilities.
But it will be, I think, mostly groundwork-building. It certainly won't be devoting months of my life and my family's lives to a show this summer. It will leave time for the beach, something we tend to sadly neglect during "show summers." We'll be making trips to visit colleges, a sort of bitter-sweet thing as we prepare to send John off into the world. In the fall, Halloween to be exact, we'll be indulging in one last family trip to Disney World, including a behind the scenes tour, something I've wanted to share with Lisa and John for years.
Who knows what else lies in store. I certainly hope (once again) to be writing on this blog more and to begin again writing on Liberty's Harbor (I mean it IS an election year and all). I'm curious to know what this will look like in hindsight as I read it in January 2017, but I'm not so excited I want to rush it. 2016 could be a year of giving ourselves the time to enjoy simply living the Stites Life, and that would be perfect.
Thursday, January 1, 2015
New Year's Resolutions
I don't do these. Never have. I don't have a good reason, it's never been my thing and I'm kind of generally opposed to doing what you're "supposed to do" in pretty much any case. But this year I'm giving it a try and hoping to take it seriously. But they aren't going to be the kind of self-improvement, make the world a better place resolutions that are called for in politically correct society. Nope, tried that, not the resolutions, but the branching out into new things and giving of one's self to the benefit of others thing this year and it's left a sour taste in my mouth.
I started out all hopeful and ready to jump into it, as evidenced by this first post of 2014. By August the stress was getting to me. We'd just put on a show that drained our resources to almost nothing and didn't attract the ticket sales we hoped it would and then began the lease of a new facility that threw us into totally uncharted waters. My complaint at the time was purely personal, that it was changing me in ways I didn't like and causing me to run past roses I normally would have been smelling. That sentiment only grew the rest of the year. And it is the basis for this year's resolutions. I would normally feel bad about resolving to do LESS good for others, but not this time. Others frankly don't appreciate it.
That sounds incredibly self-serving, self-centered, self-everything, but damn it, it's true, so sue me. I never wanted a parade or any sort of recognition for the work I did as BLT president, I know that in the performing arts it's the artists who seek and get that, and that's perfectly fine by me. I'm not a spotlight kind of guy and am not out to impress strangers. But I do feel I am entitled to a little respect and the benefit of the doubt, and I got neither. I got the required "thank you's" and "good jobs" and all from the people who have to say such things, but even the people closest to what was happening all year never actually grew to trust me. Despite guiding this organization through some very difficult times and leaving it in rather better shape than I found it, if there is a negative conclusion to leap to, it's leapt to. And if anyone says "B" after I've said "A" a hundred times, "B" is what even those who should know better believe. That really hurts. It makes me feel like I've wasted a lot of time that would have been better spent on family and job and even self.
So that's what I'm resolving to do. I'm going to spend more time watching TV. It sounds like an anti-resolution, doesn't it? But it's symbolic of how this year will be different from last. I'm not a huge television guy, but there are amusing things on there I'd like to enjoy, things friends watch that I'd like to be able to discuss, things our whole family can sit and get into together, things Lisa and I can experience as a couple. It starts Sunday night with ABC's Galavant, which looks hilarious and Lisa and John have both expressed interest in. No more writing press releases or answering a dozen inane emails or updating the website or editing and sharing photos or balancing the BLT checkbook as first priority. I'll get around to the things I agree to continue to do, but it won't be as fast or as consistent. It won't be first on the list, and I regret that it ever was.
The television thing is just a start, an example. I'm also going to read. I am partway through about 8 books and I'm going to finish them all. Stephen King's "Revival" is gripping me right now, and I've devoted time to it the last week or so, so I have a head start on that one. I'm going to buy a new handheld GPS and begin geocaching again. It gets us out of the house together, it shows us the world and it leads to paths full of roses to smell. I'm going to walk on the beach again. I'm going to play our new Disney Infinity game. I'm going to take naps, dig out the computer room and plan weekend or day trips to new places. I'm going to write on this blog much more.
I'll keep up my involvement with the theatre, I have one more year on the board, though as 1 of 9 I am going to point out to everyone as often as I can. But I'm going to pick and choose. There are things about BLT I enjoy and things I don't. I'm done with the things I don't. I'm looking forward to helping plan and put on another murder mystery the end of this month. I'm really excited about the Winnie-the-Pooh workshop and show. I'm trying to cajole the board into scheduling a show I will help produce for the fall. I may stage manage this summer. All things I have found I love.
It's all a part of the new year for Jeffrey, do the things that make me and my family happy. Self-improvement without sweating and pain, baby, that's me in 2015 :)
I started out all hopeful and ready to jump into it, as evidenced by this first post of 2014. By August the stress was getting to me. We'd just put on a show that drained our resources to almost nothing and didn't attract the ticket sales we hoped it would and then began the lease of a new facility that threw us into totally uncharted waters. My complaint at the time was purely personal, that it was changing me in ways I didn't like and causing me to run past roses I normally would have been smelling. That sentiment only grew the rest of the year. And it is the basis for this year's resolutions. I would normally feel bad about resolving to do LESS good for others, but not this time. Others frankly don't appreciate it.
That sounds incredibly self-serving, self-centered, self-everything, but damn it, it's true, so sue me. I never wanted a parade or any sort of recognition for the work I did as BLT president, I know that in the performing arts it's the artists who seek and get that, and that's perfectly fine by me. I'm not a spotlight kind of guy and am not out to impress strangers. But I do feel I am entitled to a little respect and the benefit of the doubt, and I got neither. I got the required "thank you's" and "good jobs" and all from the people who have to say such things, but even the people closest to what was happening all year never actually grew to trust me. Despite guiding this organization through some very difficult times and leaving it in rather better shape than I found it, if there is a negative conclusion to leap to, it's leapt to. And if anyone says "B" after I've said "A" a hundred times, "B" is what even those who should know better believe. That really hurts. It makes me feel like I've wasted a lot of time that would have been better spent on family and job and even self.
So that's what I'm resolving to do. I'm going to spend more time watching TV. It sounds like an anti-resolution, doesn't it? But it's symbolic of how this year will be different from last. I'm not a huge television guy, but there are amusing things on there I'd like to enjoy, things friends watch that I'd like to be able to discuss, things our whole family can sit and get into together, things Lisa and I can experience as a couple. It starts Sunday night with ABC's Galavant, which looks hilarious and Lisa and John have both expressed interest in. No more writing press releases or answering a dozen inane emails or updating the website or editing and sharing photos or balancing the BLT checkbook as first priority. I'll get around to the things I agree to continue to do, but it won't be as fast or as consistent. It won't be first on the list, and I regret that it ever was.
The television thing is just a start, an example. I'm also going to read. I am partway through about 8 books and I'm going to finish them all. Stephen King's "Revival" is gripping me right now, and I've devoted time to it the last week or so, so I have a head start on that one. I'm going to buy a new handheld GPS and begin geocaching again. It gets us out of the house together, it shows us the world and it leads to paths full of roses to smell. I'm going to walk on the beach again. I'm going to play our new Disney Infinity game. I'm going to take naps, dig out the computer room and plan weekend or day trips to new places. I'm going to write on this blog much more.
I'll keep up my involvement with the theatre, I have one more year on the board, though as 1 of 9 I am going to point out to everyone as often as I can. But I'm going to pick and choose. There are things about BLT I enjoy and things I don't. I'm done with the things I don't. I'm looking forward to helping plan and put on another murder mystery the end of this month. I'm really excited about the Winnie-the-Pooh workshop and show. I'm trying to cajole the board into scheduling a show I will help produce for the fall. I may stage manage this summer. All things I have found I love.
It's all a part of the new year for Jeffrey, do the things that make me and my family happy. Self-improvement without sweating and pain, baby, that's me in 2015 :)
Wednesday, December 31, 2014
Safe Zone
Remember playing tag, or kick the can or any number of games with a "base"? It was that one place you could go to escape for a minute, re-charge and rest? Sometimes we need them in real adult life, don't we? We need a known safe zone where we can go regroup, de-stress and then re-enter the situation ready for another go at it.
I'm a bit of a misanthrope, not real fond of strangers or large groups of people even if I do know most of them. I don't mingle well, I am awkward socially. I do enjoy parties but I'm never really completely comfortable at them. It's a weird contradiction, I know. Our great friends the Iapaluccis love to throw big parties, ones with lots of people I don't know, people I do know who I 'm not so sure about and lots and lots of really wonderful mutual friends. We love to go, *I* love to go. But they can be really a lot to handle sometimes, for someone like me.
I have a "base" at Jen and Adrian's house, though, that makes it much easier. It's the kitchen. Almost every time we are over there, I end up spending time in the kitchen, and not just hanging out. Probably why it's such a great escape is because I tend to do proper kitchen-y things in there. I wash up, put out food, cook. Often Jen is in there, she's the hostess with the mostest and head chef so it's perfectly natural, but sometimes I think she's on "base" too. And when she is there, she usually gives me a mission, which is awesome. The other night, for example, it was well into a party, 10:30 when the festivities got going at six, and Jen announces she's forgotten to cook the shrimp and I need to toast the coconut. So there we are, with all the dozens and dozens of guests milling about and partying, at the stove cooking coconut shrimp late at night. Yes, 10:30 is way late for me, don't judge. When we were done, we plated up and I followed the shrimp out into the yard and re-joined the party. It was great. I just love the idea that there's a place to decompress. It involves the magics of shared cooking and friendship at the same time and it's a really cool thing.
I'm a bit of a misanthrope, not real fond of strangers or large groups of people even if I do know most of them. I don't mingle well, I am awkward socially. I do enjoy parties but I'm never really completely comfortable at them. It's a weird contradiction, I know. Our great friends the Iapaluccis love to throw big parties, ones with lots of people I don't know, people I do know who I 'm not so sure about and lots and lots of really wonderful mutual friends. We love to go, *I* love to go. But they can be really a lot to handle sometimes, for someone like me.
I have a "base" at Jen and Adrian's house, though, that makes it much easier. It's the kitchen. Almost every time we are over there, I end up spending time in the kitchen, and not just hanging out. Probably why it's such a great escape is because I tend to do proper kitchen-y things in there. I wash up, put out food, cook. Often Jen is in there, she's the hostess with the mostest and head chef so it's perfectly natural, but sometimes I think she's on "base" too. And when she is there, she usually gives me a mission, which is awesome. The other night, for example, it was well into a party, 10:30 when the festivities got going at six, and Jen announces she's forgotten to cook the shrimp and I need to toast the coconut. So there we are, with all the dozens and dozens of guests milling about and partying, at the stove cooking coconut shrimp late at night. Yes, 10:30 is way late for me, don't judge. When we were done, we plated up and I followed the shrimp out into the yard and re-joined the party. It was great. I just love the idea that there's a place to decompress. It involves the magics of shared cooking and friendship at the same time and it's a really cool thing.
 | |
| See, it's not hiding, it's essential party stuff going on :) |
 |
| Coconut Shrimps!! |
Saturday, November 8, 2014
TA-DA!!!!
I'm leaving this week looking at myself differently than I did entering it.
I've enjoyed my involvement with theatre in large part because it's allowed me the opportunity to work with and observe some great creative talents making magic. I talk about that a lot on here because it fascinates me, it's something I never could do (the performance/creative stuff) and I like being around those who can and getting a front seat or even behind the scenes view of the creative process. I've seen myself as audience, in a sense, observer maybe is a better word, even of shows during which I'm backstage working. I like being near people I admire and this year has given me a chance to do a lot of that and expanded the universe of artists and directors and actors and choreographers that I get to observe.
But Monday a silly little Facebook post started a week in which I came to understand that I'm not audience anymore. My friend Jen listed all the projects her "friends in the performing arts community" are working on in the coming weeks. It was a wonderful list, really, and she tagged the people responsible for all the happenings in her post -- directors, musical directors, artistic directors.......and me. And surprised myself because I didn't see that inclusion as odd. I had begun to feel like I belonged in that "performing arts community".
I'm not a director of any one show, and am not really an Artistic Director in the sense that other theater companies use the term. Usually that is a paid position for the person responsible for the day to day, week to week operations of the theater. But this year, as Brunswick Little Theatre has moved into a place of its own and we've had to make that work and fill the space, I've come really close to filling that role in all practical terms. One of the new friends I've made recently is Steve Vernon, Artistic Director of Big Dawg Productions, the group putting on The Hermit of Fort Fisher in our space right now. He's the first friend I've made solely because of our common ground in theater, and it's made me realize I have my own real estate there, in that artistic world. We spent an hour before the opening show of Hermit talking shop. Sure, he is way more experienced than I and we both understand that, but we spoke as equals in the sense that we are both doing the same job essentially and he respects the way I've handled my challenges as much as I respect the work he's doing with his own organization. A year ago, Hell, two weeks ago, I would have entered that conversation as a pure learning opportunity, a chance to hang out with "those creative-types". But Friday night I WAS one of those people, one of a community of very different personalities all joined by a desire to bring the arts to others.
I've finally accepted that that's now a part of who I am. I organize. I facilitate. I make things happen. But that IS "arts". In a simple example, I figured out how to add enough chairs to fit 106 patrons into our theatre space while preserving a center aisle that the director wanted to use as a part of the show's blocking. In a more extensive example I oversaw the transformation of an abandoned church and school into a performing arts complex. That property will see auditions for a youth musical and rehearsals for an all-ages cast Christmas show and a children's theatre workshop and host over 100 souls attending a play.......TODAY. In Southport. In Brunswick County. And while it took the efforts of a lot more than just myself to make this happen, I am very proud of my own role. No theater in Wilmington is doing more. We, we in the Brunswick Little Theatre, are contributing as much as any group in the area to making the arts available to our community. And if the sell-out crowds are any indication, the community appreciates it.
While I got great joy out of being able to see up close and personal others making magic, I finally feel like I can say "Ta-Da" myself.
I've enjoyed my involvement with theatre in large part because it's allowed me the opportunity to work with and observe some great creative talents making magic. I talk about that a lot on here because it fascinates me, it's something I never could do (the performance/creative stuff) and I like being around those who can and getting a front seat or even behind the scenes view of the creative process. I've seen myself as audience, in a sense, observer maybe is a better word, even of shows during which I'm backstage working. I like being near people I admire and this year has given me a chance to do a lot of that and expanded the universe of artists and directors and actors and choreographers that I get to observe.
But Monday a silly little Facebook post started a week in which I came to understand that I'm not audience anymore. My friend Jen listed all the projects her "friends in the performing arts community" are working on in the coming weeks. It was a wonderful list, really, and she tagged the people responsible for all the happenings in her post -- directors, musical directors, artistic directors.......and me. And surprised myself because I didn't see that inclusion as odd. I had begun to feel like I belonged in that "performing arts community".
I'm not a director of any one show, and am not really an Artistic Director in the sense that other theater companies use the term. Usually that is a paid position for the person responsible for the day to day, week to week operations of the theater. But this year, as Brunswick Little Theatre has moved into a place of its own and we've had to make that work and fill the space, I've come really close to filling that role in all practical terms. One of the new friends I've made recently is Steve Vernon, Artistic Director of Big Dawg Productions, the group putting on The Hermit of Fort Fisher in our space right now. He's the first friend I've made solely because of our common ground in theater, and it's made me realize I have my own real estate there, in that artistic world. We spent an hour before the opening show of Hermit talking shop. Sure, he is way more experienced than I and we both understand that, but we spoke as equals in the sense that we are both doing the same job essentially and he respects the way I've handled my challenges as much as I respect the work he's doing with his own organization. A year ago, Hell, two weeks ago, I would have entered that conversation as a pure learning opportunity, a chance to hang out with "those creative-types". But Friday night I WAS one of those people, one of a community of very different personalities all joined by a desire to bring the arts to others.
I've finally accepted that that's now a part of who I am. I organize. I facilitate. I make things happen. But that IS "arts". In a simple example, I figured out how to add enough chairs to fit 106 patrons into our theatre space while preserving a center aisle that the director wanted to use as a part of the show's blocking. In a more extensive example I oversaw the transformation of an abandoned church and school into a performing arts complex. That property will see auditions for a youth musical and rehearsals for an all-ages cast Christmas show and a children's theatre workshop and host over 100 souls attending a play.......TODAY. In Southport. In Brunswick County. And while it took the efforts of a lot more than just myself to make this happen, I am very proud of my own role. No theater in Wilmington is doing more. We, we in the Brunswick Little Theatre, are contributing as much as any group in the area to making the arts available to our community. And if the sell-out crowds are any indication, the community appreciates it.
While I got great joy out of being able to see up close and personal others making magic, I finally feel like I can say "Ta-Da" myself.
Sunday, August 24, 2014
Running Past The Roses
Sometime last year I re-posted something I found on Facebook, some meme with a photo and the words "I give great advice, but I seldom follow it" or some such thing. My friend immediately responded that she had the very same quote on a coffee mug on her desk at work, seems to ring true with quite a few people. When I began this blog, part of the reason I chose the name Pooh Sticks was because it represented to me taking the time to slow down and enjoy the simple things. Rather than using the bridge simply to cross the river that lies between you and your destination, we should stop, find a stick, go back and drop it in and watch what happens. Life is about the journey towards our goals and we miss much if we get too focused on the ends. I prided myself on being the sort to appreciate the little things, to take full advantage of the journey, to keep perspective.
I've totally ignored that advice, that part of myself, this summer. And I feel the worse for it, but I don't know how to fix it. The problem is, the things that have me running and not slowing to enjoy the path are GOOD things, largely even fun things. I am blessed with great opportunities and I feel like a heel whining about them. But I haven't slept through the night since mid-July, I regularly have a huge nervous pit in my stomach, it's an effort to not let my stress bleed over into lack of patience with others and I often fail in that. My pastor told me he loves reading about all I'm up to on Facebook and that he alternates between jealousy and sympathy and sometimes both at once. That's it in a nutshell.
Serving as president of Brunswick Little Theatre this year has been fun. It's also been much more than I bargained for. I had no idea how much stuff would end up in front of me, how many decisions others would refuse to make and leave to me, or at least wait for my input then do whatever I said. But that was ok, I could handle it just fine. Then this summer our treasurer, Jack Mical, passed away suddenly. Jack was my friend, he and I used to joke about being two fish out of water on the board, two guys with zero talent, zero experience and zero training in theater. All we had was a desire to see our friends (the same ones it turned out) with the talent, experience and training make magic and give the community great opportunities to enjoy live theater. He was always there, always cheerful and always finding a way to turn what he knew he could do into concrete help. I admired that, learned from it, and then he was gone. And his job devolved to me. No question I was going to do it, and do it right, I mean this was the one way I could honor Jack's memory. I just had to figure out how. So with a bit of work and a lot advice I've managed to keep the theater's finances straight. Doing that in the middle of stage managing Into The Woods was a little TMI. It wasn't killing me, but it began the waking up at 3 am each night with my heart in my throat over some aspect of the books.
Then we decided to lease and run our own theater. And not only a theater, no, we moved into a 4 acre complex with several buildings, classrooms, a kitchen and more bathrooms than any normal group of people need. I signed the lease on opening night of Into The Woods, at the time our theater finances were at a low ebb and ticket sales for the Big Summer Musical were not big at all. No stress there, huh? I insisted on signing physically on the set of the show. I wanted to ask Lisa, John, the director and a few others to lay hands on me while I did it, but didn't want to look too much like the basket case I felt. I just wanted some good mojo, some clear sign of moving in the correct direction. I knew it would be a big undertaking. I'd thoroughly annoyed many long-time BLTers and some board members by throwing up every road block I could, by raising every objection, by voicing every caution while this was being discussed. They were convinced this was a no-brainer, this would be a great thing, nothing but positives. I couldn't even wrap my head around all the new work, all the new problems, it would bring. But in the end, at a special meeting, I voted along with everyone else to sign the lease. And I've been a wreck ever since.
It's been so very much more than I imagined. I liken it to moving into a new house, but more so. We have to prepare the space for we don't even know what yet. We have lots of ideas, ranging from the normal shows and workshops, all the way to sing-a-long movie nights and a medieval fair. That's part of the challenge for me, we are full of ideas, but less so on execution. Take for example the Fundraising Committee we created back in March. They were the ones who took it upon themselves to find a property for us to move into. They spoke with several realtors, a land developer and a landscape architect; they toured four properties; they generated over 4,990,876,412 emails (approximately) but have to date raised not one penny of funds. The members of the committee have donated generously themselves, but that's kind of not the point.
These are the people who said how easy it would be to operate a theater. They have ideas. But the place needs material and lights and paint and a schedule and some idea of what to use which space for. The size of that 4 acre property has shrunk massively in practical terms with requests for dance studio space, children's workshop space, a painting area, a technical work bench, a sewing room, prop storage, costume storage, and oh yeah, there' s a huge hollow tree prop with spiral staircase on site now. We have requests to do dinner theater and a coffee house and babysitting and build a proscenium arch and knock out a wall to put a tech booth in the attic. And so far all these ideas are coming to me. Oh, and we don't have permission from the county to use the building as anything other than a church yet.
The board isn't so much absent as disengaged. We only meet once a month and most never look at their emails. They simply think we can carry on as we always have and it will all get done. I'm trying to spread out the work and it has helped a lot. I have a great guy in charge of grounds and maintenance, but he is loath to tackle any permitting issues. Jen is helping with fundraising, so we will now actually raise funds and build a real, active, renewing membership base. Lisa found me a treasurer, but the transition will take a while and a bit of work on both our parts. Still, I end up at the least overseeing all the aspects of running a theater, or really more like running a performing arts complex. How the Hell did THAT happen?
Add to this work troubles and challenges that I'm too pissed off about to even write about now, and it's been a lot of sleepless nights and days where I feel like Indiana Jones with that huge rock rolling after him. I had a Saturday morning with no plans yesterday and spent about 6 hours updating and adding to the theater's website. I could have let it wait, but when I do (like right now choosing to write this instead of adding a show and auditions to all the local media's calendars) I feel guilty and stressed over NOT doing things. It has sucked the joy out of stopping to smell the roses and I don't like it. I live less than a quarter mile walk to the beach. I moved here because of the ocean and the beach. And I haven't had sand in my toes in over a month.
I hate to even say this stuff, on the one hand. I mean, I wouldn't give up any of this willingly, it's rewarding and exciting and fun. Who can say they had the chance to start up a theater complex? I really feel like I'm making a real difference and doing something very worthwhile. But at the same time it's taking a toll. I need to find way to handle this and still enjoy the Pooh Sticks bridge. I'm just not sure how.
Do you know?
I've totally ignored that advice, that part of myself, this summer. And I feel the worse for it, but I don't know how to fix it. The problem is, the things that have me running and not slowing to enjoy the path are GOOD things, largely even fun things. I am blessed with great opportunities and I feel like a heel whining about them. But I haven't slept through the night since mid-July, I regularly have a huge nervous pit in my stomach, it's an effort to not let my stress bleed over into lack of patience with others and I often fail in that. My pastor told me he loves reading about all I'm up to on Facebook and that he alternates between jealousy and sympathy and sometimes both at once. That's it in a nutshell.
Serving as president of Brunswick Little Theatre this year has been fun. It's also been much more than I bargained for. I had no idea how much stuff would end up in front of me, how many decisions others would refuse to make and leave to me, or at least wait for my input then do whatever I said. But that was ok, I could handle it just fine. Then this summer our treasurer, Jack Mical, passed away suddenly. Jack was my friend, he and I used to joke about being two fish out of water on the board, two guys with zero talent, zero experience and zero training in theater. All we had was a desire to see our friends (the same ones it turned out) with the talent, experience and training make magic and give the community great opportunities to enjoy live theater. He was always there, always cheerful and always finding a way to turn what he knew he could do into concrete help. I admired that, learned from it, and then he was gone. And his job devolved to me. No question I was going to do it, and do it right, I mean this was the one way I could honor Jack's memory. I just had to figure out how. So with a bit of work and a lot advice I've managed to keep the theater's finances straight. Doing that in the middle of stage managing Into The Woods was a little TMI. It wasn't killing me, but it began the waking up at 3 am each night with my heart in my throat over some aspect of the books.
Then we decided to lease and run our own theater. And not only a theater, no, we moved into a 4 acre complex with several buildings, classrooms, a kitchen and more bathrooms than any normal group of people need. I signed the lease on opening night of Into The Woods, at the time our theater finances were at a low ebb and ticket sales for the Big Summer Musical were not big at all. No stress there, huh? I insisted on signing physically on the set of the show. I wanted to ask Lisa, John, the director and a few others to lay hands on me while I did it, but didn't want to look too much like the basket case I felt. I just wanted some good mojo, some clear sign of moving in the correct direction. I knew it would be a big undertaking. I'd thoroughly annoyed many long-time BLTers and some board members by throwing up every road block I could, by raising every objection, by voicing every caution while this was being discussed. They were convinced this was a no-brainer, this would be a great thing, nothing but positives. I couldn't even wrap my head around all the new work, all the new problems, it would bring. But in the end, at a special meeting, I voted along with everyone else to sign the lease. And I've been a wreck ever since.
It's been so very much more than I imagined. I liken it to moving into a new house, but more so. We have to prepare the space for we don't even know what yet. We have lots of ideas, ranging from the normal shows and workshops, all the way to sing-a-long movie nights and a medieval fair. That's part of the challenge for me, we are full of ideas, but less so on execution. Take for example the Fundraising Committee we created back in March. They were the ones who took it upon themselves to find a property for us to move into. They spoke with several realtors, a land developer and a landscape architect; they toured four properties; they generated over 4,990,876,412 emails (approximately) but have to date raised not one penny of funds. The members of the committee have donated generously themselves, but that's kind of not the point.
These are the people who said how easy it would be to operate a theater. They have ideas. But the place needs material and lights and paint and a schedule and some idea of what to use which space for. The size of that 4 acre property has shrunk massively in practical terms with requests for dance studio space, children's workshop space, a painting area, a technical work bench, a sewing room, prop storage, costume storage, and oh yeah, there' s a huge hollow tree prop with spiral staircase on site now. We have requests to do dinner theater and a coffee house and babysitting and build a proscenium arch and knock out a wall to put a tech booth in the attic. And so far all these ideas are coming to me. Oh, and we don't have permission from the county to use the building as anything other than a church yet.
The board isn't so much absent as disengaged. We only meet once a month and most never look at their emails. They simply think we can carry on as we always have and it will all get done. I'm trying to spread out the work and it has helped a lot. I have a great guy in charge of grounds and maintenance, but he is loath to tackle any permitting issues. Jen is helping with fundraising, so we will now actually raise funds and build a real, active, renewing membership base. Lisa found me a treasurer, but the transition will take a while and a bit of work on both our parts. Still, I end up at the least overseeing all the aspects of running a theater, or really more like running a performing arts complex. How the Hell did THAT happen?
Add to this work troubles and challenges that I'm too pissed off about to even write about now, and it's been a lot of sleepless nights and days where I feel like Indiana Jones with that huge rock rolling after him. I had a Saturday morning with no plans yesterday and spent about 6 hours updating and adding to the theater's website. I could have let it wait, but when I do (like right now choosing to write this instead of adding a show and auditions to all the local media's calendars) I feel guilty and stressed over NOT doing things. It has sucked the joy out of stopping to smell the roses and I don't like it. I live less than a quarter mile walk to the beach. I moved here because of the ocean and the beach. And I haven't had sand in my toes in over a month.
I hate to even say this stuff, on the one hand. I mean, I wouldn't give up any of this willingly, it's rewarding and exciting and fun. Who can say they had the chance to start up a theater complex? I really feel like I'm making a real difference and doing something very worthwhile. But at the same time it's taking a toll. I need to find way to handle this and still enjoy the Pooh Sticks bridge. I'm just not sure how.
Do you know?
Saturday, May 3, 2014
Into The Woods
It's time to go,
I hate to leave,
I have to, though.
Into the woods-
It's time, and so
I must begin my journey.
Thursday, April 10, 2014
Refuting The 13 (now apparently 14) Reasons Not To Go To Disney, Part 6
So I'm happily looking at my Facebook newsfeed the other day and one of
those "Sponsored" things is up there. It's from a site called Viral
Travel (which sounds like a bad idea on the face of it) and is entitled 13 Reasons Not To Go To Disney.
Of course I bite. Sue me. So its about what I expect, the same things
we Disney fans expect from you non-Disney fans-- crowds, expense,
capitalism, yadda yadda yadda. The thing is, many of these criticisms
are true to a large extent, but avoidable. I hate to see people get
spoiled on the Disney I love because they go about the whole experience
unprepared logistically or mentally for the realities of the place. I
figured just for kicks to take the 13 reasons one by one (or two by two) and try to
explain why they don't keep ME from the Magic. This part four, part one is here, two here, three here, four here and five here.
5. The Mouse Ears And Other Hats Are Embarrassing
This one is personal. I like hats. I like funny hats, odd hats, unusual hats. I am a very responsible adult, I dare say possibly more responsible than a guy writing for a fly-by-night travel blog for a living. Just perhaps. I wear funny hats at Disney. I don't wear Mouse Ears because they tend to fall off my head, but I have a plaid Santa hat with mouse ears on it. I have a ridiculous safari hat. One of the things I was looking forward to on our last trip was buying a safari hat with mouse ears on it, but I was unable to find one. I was sad.
If you are embarrassed at seeing other adults in funny hats, you need to forgo your Disney vacation and spend that money on therapy. Really, you'll thank me later.
As for being embarrassed to wear a silly hat in the parks yourself, that's a little bit of a different matter. We are socialized to be safe, socially, to fit in and not do anything to stand out. We are taught to be Team Players in the best sense and drones in the collective in the worst. Certainly we need to conform to basic norms for society to function and for groups within that society to efficiently do what they need to do. Wearing Mickey Ears to your job might be a bad idea. But Disney isn't work, it's a fantasy land, a play world, a stage for showing off parts of yourself that wouldn't be easy or safe to display in the real world. That's what all those people in the Mickey Ears get that this writer misses. They (we) are having FUN, we are being silly in a place where silliness is celebrated.If that offends you, I feel really sorry for you.
But I'm a firm believer in carrying that freedom to be silly sometimes outside the parks. Disney has turned it into a marketing campaign with their whole Show Your Disney Side thing, but I have been a proponent of sometimes not running with the crowd for years. I wear my Mickey Ears Santa hat around a lot, to parties, parades, even work. I have a Goofy shirt that is just plain goofy. I'll dress up in odd cloths with the smallest of excuses. It's liberating, really, to simply not care what people say about you on social media or anywhere else. It's not your friends making fun, anyone who is isn't a friend and why should his or her opinion matter? Worried your boss might see? Ever stop to think that your boss may be your boss and not a drone him or herself because maybe he or she isn't an in-the-box thinker? Successful people break molds, they go outside the normal. Live a little. If it starts with a Mickey Ear hat on vacation, all the better. You might just bring some of that silliness home with you and find out that often silliness is simply another word for creativity and imagination. And those are the things that open doors.
5. The Mouse Ears And Other Hats Are Embarrassing
Even though it’s a tradition, the little mouse ears sold at the park are embarrassing, not only to wear but to also see others wearing. If you have not been to a Disney resort in a while, you will be amazed at how many different kinds of mouse ears are available to buy.
There are pirate mouse ears, ears that are themed for weddings, glow-in-the-dark ears, light-up ears, and even Jack Skellington mouse ears. Pretty much any tacky design you can think of that has anything to do with Disney has been used to make a special set of mouse ears.
Even worse, people wear the ears in the park like they are a badge of honor, just like that story about the emperor’s snazzy new clothes everyone obviously could see. Of course, if you don’t want to wear a set of ridiculous mouse ears, you can put on a Goofy or Peter Pan hat like you’re a hyperactive five year-old instead of a respectable adult.
The worst part is if you are unfortunate to have your picture taken while wearing the mouse ears, that picture might make its way onto social media for all of your friends to ridicule.
This one is personal. I like hats. I like funny hats, odd hats, unusual hats. I am a very responsible adult, I dare say possibly more responsible than a guy writing for a fly-by-night travel blog for a living. Just perhaps. I wear funny hats at Disney. I don't wear Mouse Ears because they tend to fall off my head, but I have a plaid Santa hat with mouse ears on it. I have a ridiculous safari hat. One of the things I was looking forward to on our last trip was buying a safari hat with mouse ears on it, but I was unable to find one. I was sad.
 |
| Safari Hat, sadly no Ears |
If you are embarrassed at seeing other adults in funny hats, you need to forgo your Disney vacation and spend that money on therapy. Really, you'll thank me later.
As for being embarrassed to wear a silly hat in the parks yourself, that's a little bit of a different matter. We are socialized to be safe, socially, to fit in and not do anything to stand out. We are taught to be Team Players in the best sense and drones in the collective in the worst. Certainly we need to conform to basic norms for society to function and for groups within that society to efficiently do what they need to do. Wearing Mickey Ears to your job might be a bad idea. But Disney isn't work, it's a fantasy land, a play world, a stage for showing off parts of yourself that wouldn't be easy or safe to display in the real world. That's what all those people in the Mickey Ears get that this writer misses. They (we) are having FUN, we are being silly in a place where silliness is celebrated.If that offends you, I feel really sorry for you.
 |
| Mouse Ears Santa Hat |
But I'm a firm believer in carrying that freedom to be silly sometimes outside the parks. Disney has turned it into a marketing campaign with their whole Show Your Disney Side thing, but I have been a proponent of sometimes not running with the crowd for years. I wear my Mickey Ears Santa hat around a lot, to parties, parades, even work. I have a Goofy shirt that is just plain goofy. I'll dress up in odd cloths with the smallest of excuses. It's liberating, really, to simply not care what people say about you on social media or anywhere else. It's not your friends making fun, anyone who is isn't a friend and why should his or her opinion matter? Worried your boss might see? Ever stop to think that your boss may be your boss and not a drone him or herself because maybe he or she isn't an in-the-box thinker? Successful people break molds, they go outside the normal. Live a little. If it starts with a Mickey Ear hat on vacation, all the better. You might just bring some of that silliness home with you and find out that often silliness is simply another word for creativity and imagination. And those are the things that open doors.
 |
| I wore this get-up to a birthday party for our friends' son. It was Renaissance themed, so why not? The mom and dad were also dressed up and also my lovely wife. I got the stink-eye the whole time from the Cool Kids, but really, who cares? Life's just too short :-) |
Sunday, March 9, 2014
Exploring Home
The joy of exploring is that every place is unique. I mean, of course it is, right? But some places are just a bit "more unique" than others. Yes, I hate the phrase, too, usually, but in the case of Oak Island it's true. This is a beautiful area, our little corner of North Carolina and the adjacent bit of South Carolina. We have a cute little coastal town in Southport, a wooded lake-filled town in Boiling Spring Lakes, a "charming Southern city" in Wilmington, and plenty of barrier islands filled with vacation homes. All of those places are nice, really nice, but they are very much like other places I've seen. Oak Island is different. It's barrier island like the rest, but not really. It only became a real island once the Intracoastal Waterway came along. It's full of vacation homes, but not really. It has a permanent population of around 7,000, making it one of, if not the, most populous town in the county. Oak Island is the name of the island itself but also one of the two towns on the island. So you can come and be on Oak Island but not be in Oak Island. The place has the worst and best identity crisis of any place I've ever seen. It's nuts and those of us who live here are generally nuts. We've come from all over and settled in the weirdest town we could find. It makes for interesting politics, but it also makes for a place someone like me can feel at home. Make of that what you will.
One of the coolest features of our island is that it's split down the middle (well sort of. It's not the middle and it's only kinda a third of the island that's split) by a water feature with lots of names. See, identity crisis central. Officially on USGS maps it's called Montgomery Slough. No one knows any Montgomery around here nor what a "slough" is, so it is NEVER called that. It is most often called Davis Canal or just "the Canal," as in "I can't believe I just saw a dolphin in the Canal!" But it isn't a canal. At all. My favorite name for it is Davis Ditch. It is a ditch, no matter how you slice it.
Here it is from space.
That thicker body of water at the top is the Intracoastal. Oh, did I mention the other oddity about our island? It runs east-west rather than north-south. When you look out to sea here you aren't looking toward Portugal, you're looking toward Cuba. Makes for a glorious sunset with the sun dipping right into the sea without having to go to Florida or the west coast. But shhhhhhhhh, don't tell anyone. Anyhow, that thick bit of water on top is the Intracoastal and the big blue at the bottom is, of course, the Atlantic Ocean. That bit roughly in the middle with no streets is the Montgomery Slough/Davis Canal/Davis Ditch. A lot of it is marsh, but it has navigable water at the top and sometimes at the bottom. It's open to the Intracoastal at its west end and makes a sort of "U" at the east. Today we went around that "U" in our kayaks for the first time.
The majority of the canal is narrow and at low tide very shallow. The southern leg is mostly too shallow even for a canoe or kayak at low tide, or even anything but high tide in many places. Today, we happened to be out at high tide and made our way around the "U" to explore a part of the canal that we'd never seen before in 20 years living here.
First off, let me say how unbelievably happy I am to have the tides affect my life. I've always been a tide geek. Dad and I would pick up a tide chart first thing upon reaching the shore when I was growing up and visiting south Jersey. Now I find I really don't need one. I see the tides each morning and afternoon or evening at least on my way on and off the island so I generally in a very general way can guess when its going to be high or low tide or if the tide is falling or rising. This makes me very happy.
So, we set off at high tide, slack high tide as well, which was cool as it made for easy paddling both ways.
Today was a glory of early spring weather -- sunny, warm and calm. The marsh smelled marshy and we could hear the surf a couple blocks away. Fish were jumping and a Great Blue Heron decided to follow us and check in from time to time (but never long enough to have his photo taken). We paddled up to the end of the canal and decided to take advantage of the tide to go see what lay around the bend. I find its ALWAYS best to go see what lays beyond the bend. ALWAYS. Just a word of advice. Anyhow, around the bend was new and off we went.
We didn't find anything surprising, really. It isn't like we expected to enter The Land Of The Lost or anything. It was a small, well, ditch, that ran behind some nice homes, some with docks, but a surprising number without. Some of the docks were dilapidated. We were happy as the Lovely Miss Lisa is a huge fan of dilapidation (no jokes about what that means for her fondness for me, please) and while she wasn't with us, we enjoyed thinking how much she'd like it.
We stopped to smell the roses, which on the canal means pulling up everyone's crab traps to see what's inside. Nothing was. We paddled under a few walkways, under a few docks and low-hanging trees, because paddling under low things is fun. We don't know why, it just is. We simply enjoyed the day, enjoyed a new view of the old home and enjoyed a couple hours out on the water as father and son.
As we were beginning our trip, John commented that it had been a long time since he was out on the water. It had been a matter of months. To him, that's a long time to not be "on the water." That makes me proud. He takes paradise for granted. Well, not for granted completely because he truly loves it and uses it and wants to be out in it, but he just accepts that this is home. For me, it's still a dream I hope not to wake up from. Each time I come home across that bridge and see the ocean, THE OCEAN, I feel lucky and blessed and like I somehow cheated life. I get to live here. I hear the ocean every morning. I used to wait and wait months for that sound, for that smell. I'd go kinda bonkers during the winter at Penn State. it was just too far away from the sea, I think. But now, I'm here and my son doesn't even know it's not normal.
Life Is Good.
One of the coolest features of our island is that it's split down the middle (well sort of. It's not the middle and it's only kinda a third of the island that's split) by a water feature with lots of names. See, identity crisis central. Officially on USGS maps it's called Montgomery Slough. No one knows any Montgomery around here nor what a "slough" is, so it is NEVER called that. It is most often called Davis Canal or just "the Canal," as in "I can't believe I just saw a dolphin in the Canal!" But it isn't a canal. At all. My favorite name for it is Davis Ditch. It is a ditch, no matter how you slice it.
Here it is from space.
The majority of the canal is narrow and at low tide very shallow. The southern leg is mostly too shallow even for a canoe or kayak at low tide, or even anything but high tide in many places. Today, we happened to be out at high tide and made our way around the "U" to explore a part of the canal that we'd never seen before in 20 years living here.
First off, let me say how unbelievably happy I am to have the tides affect my life. I've always been a tide geek. Dad and I would pick up a tide chart first thing upon reaching the shore when I was growing up and visiting south Jersey. Now I find I really don't need one. I see the tides each morning and afternoon or evening at least on my way on and off the island so I generally in a very general way can guess when its going to be high or low tide or if the tide is falling or rising. This makes me very happy.
So, we set off at high tide, slack high tide as well, which was cool as it made for easy paddling both ways.
 | ||
| A Dilapidated Dock |
 |
| A Rather Nice Dock w/ crab traps |
As we were beginning our trip, John commented that it had been a long time since he was out on the water. It had been a matter of months. To him, that's a long time to not be "on the water." That makes me proud. He takes paradise for granted. Well, not for granted completely because he truly loves it and uses it and wants to be out in it, but he just accepts that this is home. For me, it's still a dream I hope not to wake up from. Each time I come home across that bridge and see the ocean, THE OCEAN, I feel lucky and blessed and like I somehow cheated life. I get to live here. I hear the ocean every morning. I used to wait and wait months for that sound, for that smell. I'd go kinda bonkers during the winter at Penn State. it was just too far away from the sea, I think. But now, I'm here and my son doesn't even know it's not normal.
Life Is Good.
Monday, February 24, 2014
Giants In The Sky
There are Giants in the sky
There are big, tall, terrible, awesome, scary, wonderful
Giants in the sky
So sings Jack in Stephen Sondeim's Into The Woods. Jack makes a trip up the beanstalk and glimpses a world that changes the way he sees the old, mundane world to which he returns. His experience has changed his outlook, he now sees somehow more even when looking at the same things. I can identify with that.
My experience in theatre has been that sort of revelation. I think it's been more noticeable and perhaps pronounced because I wasn't brought up around the performing arts (except as an audience member). I sort of climbed that beanstalk all at once and took in a new world and it's changed the way I look at things when I go back to being that simple audience member.
This past weekend, the lovely Lisa and I returned to the wonderful Durham Performing Arts Center and saw Book of Mormon. The show is outstanding and hilarious and just so, so very WRONG. We loved it. I would have loved it 5, 10, 15, 20 years ago, I'm sure I would have. But I saw it through different eyes than I would have then.
The first musical number features about ten Mormon missionaries standing on risers and each ringing an imaginary doorbell. The audience loved it, they laughed at the first finger poking the air and bringing forth a "Ding-Dong." It was a great effect, and an obvious one for working Mormon door-to-door evangelism into the show. But I watched it with a sort of heart in throat feeling, silently cheering on the sound tech who was hitting that button at just the right time to make the doorbell gag work. He did great, only one was a bit late, but I know THAT'S the thing he'll remember about that scene in that show, the one thing that wasn't perfect. And I also appreciate how hard getting that timing down can be. The boy had to do the exact same effect when he was helping out with Tuesdays With Morrie at our local strip mall theater. He nailed it, and it impressed the actors enough that they brought it up to me at intermission. Tiny things, things that may last a second at most, matter. I never would have given the doorbells a second thought five years ago.
Later in the show is a song that is in part about dysentery. Yep. It's actually got really catchy lyrics, but they are less then safe for work. Anyhow, the dancers during this rather educational segment use a long roll of cloth and sticks with different colored tassels to represent a river and, ahem, several bodily fluids. It's set to a tribal beat and moves along faster and faster as the song (and the unfortunate ailment) progresses. Watching this, I couldn't help but picture the poor choreographer on the first day of learning this bit. Sure they are professional actors, but come on, it's a hilarious song and the movements (hee hee) are not only hilarious as well, but physically tricky. I'm sitting there picturing our crew trying to pick this up and laughing that much harder because of it.
Those are just a couple examples, I could go on and on, but I don't want to spoil the show for anyone who hasn't seen it. My point is that our experiences aren't only about the joy and learning we receive while they are happening. The real magic of life-long learning, of every once in a while just climbing that beanstalk just because it's there, is a richer life -- happily ever after.
There are big, tall, terrible, awesome, scary, wonderful
Giants in the sky
So sings Jack in Stephen Sondeim's Into The Woods. Jack makes a trip up the beanstalk and glimpses a world that changes the way he sees the old, mundane world to which he returns. His experience has changed his outlook, he now sees somehow more even when looking at the same things. I can identify with that.
My experience in theatre has been that sort of revelation. I think it's been more noticeable and perhaps pronounced because I wasn't brought up around the performing arts (except as an audience member). I sort of climbed that beanstalk all at once and took in a new world and it's changed the way I look at things when I go back to being that simple audience member.
This past weekend, the lovely Lisa and I returned to the wonderful Durham Performing Arts Center and saw Book of Mormon. The show is outstanding and hilarious and just so, so very WRONG. We loved it. I would have loved it 5, 10, 15, 20 years ago, I'm sure I would have. But I saw it through different eyes than I would have then.
Later in the show is a song that is in part about dysentery. Yep. It's actually got really catchy lyrics, but they are less then safe for work. Anyhow, the dancers during this rather educational segment use a long roll of cloth and sticks with different colored tassels to represent a river and, ahem, several bodily fluids. It's set to a tribal beat and moves along faster and faster as the song (and the unfortunate ailment) progresses. Watching this, I couldn't help but picture the poor choreographer on the first day of learning this bit. Sure they are professional actors, but come on, it's a hilarious song and the movements (hee hee) are not only hilarious as well, but physically tricky. I'm sitting there picturing our crew trying to pick this up and laughing that much harder because of it.
Those are just a couple examples, I could go on and on, but I don't want to spoil the show for anyone who hasn't seen it. My point is that our experiences aren't only about the joy and learning we receive while they are happening. The real magic of life-long learning, of every once in a while just climbing that beanstalk just because it's there, is a richer life -- happily ever after.
Saturday, November 24, 2012
Dickens Diary 3....Great Expectations
I've never had them.
Have I had high hopes? Yes. Dreams? Surely. I dream and hope and fantasize and wish as much or more than anyone I know, but expectations are a different matter. That's not to say I'm a slacker. I feel I've had a pretty good idea of what I'm capable of and have done very well with my skill set. I knew very well I could move here from PA and set up a life. I had Lisa with me and she makes me feel very confident. I knew we could have a forever marriage and raise a family. We're a great team and we both had very good role models in that regard. I took a job based 100% on commission because I've always known I will do what I have to do to bring home a paycheck. The big things I know I have under control and I am narcissistic enough to rarely ever doubt that I always will. Maybe it's because I'm so fortunate in the things that matter most that I don't expect much "icing on the cake."
Great Expectations can lead to disappointments. One thing I'm NOT good at is sports. I tried a lot of them growing up with no success. My Little League baseball team never won a game, may not have scored, and the coach made fun of the way I ran. Our soccer team lost all of its games and I do remember we did score one goal in one game. I remember because I didn't even know it had happened until I asked what all the excitement was about. I tried basketball thinking my height would be an asset, but again, we never won a game and I sat on the bench most all the time. Not surprisingly, I was pretty much the last picked in gym class or the playground. It didn't really bother me, I'd just learned not to expect any different. I didn't expect my team to win, or score. I didn't expect to make any sort of contribution. Sports just wasn't my thing. I did still know what I COULD do, though, I was perfectly comfortable in the water. I was a fully certified SCUBA diver before I was old enough the drive.
The arts were another area I never developed any expectations of success. We had a downright evil art teacher in the latter part of elementary school that made sure I knew I had zero talent in that area. But it wasn't a disappointment because I had no expectations there. From the earliest days I was no good with the visual arts thing. My friends didn't want me using their coloring books because I scribbled. I couldn't stay in the lines with my crayon like the other kids, so I didn't even try. Playdough was for making snakes. Period. And I hate snakes. I was in the church children's choir but in the back and off to the side where I couldn't do any damage. I even joined the bell choir, but ended up being entrusted with only one bell and even then the director had to pause in her conducting and point at me when she wanted me to bong the thing; I was lost. I took up the trombone in 4th grade after the band guy came in and gave an assembly showing us all the different instruments we could learn. I had meant trumpet, but wrote trombone. Whatever, I didn't expect to be able to do it, so what difference did it make? I was in a small class with two of us, me and Doug Miller. Doug was a musical prodigy. I struggled for about four months trying to learn three notes and then gave up. I eventually took a photography class in high school and that's been my "artistic" outlet ever since. Recently I've started mucking about with Photoshop and fooling myself that THAT is "art."
I don't mean to be complaining here, I have been perfectly happy living within what I know I can do and do well. Controlling expectations leads to minimizing disappointment, right? I don't get jealous of the people who can hit a baseball at the picnic (I struck out at wiffleball at a work picnic once), or sing or dance or play golf once in a blue moon and still score less than 120. I enjoy them for what they are and remain happy with what I am, in my comfort zone. That is until this year.
I've written before about how our involvement with the Brunswick Little Theatre has opened new doors for our whole family. For the first time ever I am participating in "the arts." It's not a new thing for the rest of my family, Lisa sings in the church choir and John plays trombone (how fitting, huh?) in the school band, but it's new to me and definitely moving away from my comfort zone. Whether it was on purpose or not I'll never know, but Jen couldn't have drawn me out more expertly. She played to what I knew I could do with the stage manager job. She was very vague about her expectations at the start and let me grow and learn my way into the role. It worked. On opening night she gave her director's pep talk and announced she was turning it over to her stage managers. She sat in the audience during shows, watching her creation in the hands of others. I was one of three stage managers, the other two much more experienced than myself. On that opening night, after Jen had taken her place out in the house, one of the other stage managers came to me and asked if Jen really wasn't going to be back stage, was this show REALLY all up to us now? She was terrified by the idea, and she has a degree in Theatre Arts and has stage managed many, many shows. And there I was, totally new and inexperienced, waiting to see a curtain open from the stage side of things for the first time in my whole life, and I was well within my comfort zone. That comfort zone had actually grown. I had grown. I had broken rules I had for myself for years and years. It's a small thing, a very small thing, but I had painted two of the three munchkin house roofs. Mrs. Dunleavey, the art teacher witch at North Wales Elementary, would have had a coronary. I had learned how to paint a set piece, not like a pro for sure, but well enough to be proud of, I think, because Jen's expectations are greater than mine. The houses started out as a part of our parade float. Jen wasn't at all happy with them. I thought they were fine, not because I'd helped paint them and was happy with my work, but because I figured it was an amateur production, it was a set for a scene full of little kids and I was as usual willing to settle for what was easy and quick and already done. Jen wasn't. She said we re-paint the Munchkin houses because they didn't look as they should. I took a deep breath, shut my mouth and tried again with the thatch roofs. Jen watched and corrected and watched and judged and set me to it again. She taught me like no one in my life had done before. She could have done it herself a thousand times better and much faster, but she didn't. She asked, well demanded, that I begin to learn how to use three colors of paint on plywood to make an audience see a thatched roof. It was the closest thing to "real art" I've ever done, and I am proud of it because it was finally good enough. It could have been better, but because Jen has real expectations, good enough is a compliment. There's a real lesson for me there, if my thick skull will let it in.
Now we come to the Charles Dickens Festival. After telling Jen I was happy to be involved with the theatre, but couldn't act, sing or dance, I find myself preparing to portray Uriah Heep, dance in front of an audience and help sing showtunes from Oliver! Once again, Jen drew me out of my happy place gently. She told me the character acting wasn't that much different than the murder mystery parties we'd done a few years back. She told me the dance was more walking around and clapping then really dancing. She just bluntly told me that I was going to join in the singing. A few years ago I'd have had no part in these things, especially trying to sing in front of people, but something's changed. I'm wondering if I don't set my bar too low. I'm wondering if I'm not just lazy. I'm wondering how much of a disservice I've done to myself allowing that laziness. It's been on my mind a lot this week.
I love having people in my life who accept me as I am. I try to be that to others, to remind them that they are great just as they are. But lately I've been challenged to be more than I was. It isn't always comfortable and I fight it sometimes. I have dismissed high standards people hold for themselves and others as "perfectionism," and that was wrong. Comfort zones are for lazy people and I'm going to try to break that habit. And I promise to try to help others do the same in the future. It's a big switch for me, but I have every idea that given time and maybe a few reminders I can maybe bring others the gift Great Expectations.
 |
| Ta Da. This stupid thing has caused untold confustication :( |
Great Expectations can lead to disappointments. One thing I'm NOT good at is sports. I tried a lot of them growing up with no success. My Little League baseball team never won a game, may not have scored, and the coach made fun of the way I ran. Our soccer team lost all of its games and I do remember we did score one goal in one game. I remember because I didn't even know it had happened until I asked what all the excitement was about. I tried basketball thinking my height would be an asset, but again, we never won a game and I sat on the bench most all the time. Not surprisingly, I was pretty much the last picked in gym class or the playground. It didn't really bother me, I'd just learned not to expect any different. I didn't expect my team to win, or score. I didn't expect to make any sort of contribution. Sports just wasn't my thing. I did still know what I COULD do, though, I was perfectly comfortable in the water. I was a fully certified SCUBA diver before I was old enough the drive.
The arts were another area I never developed any expectations of success. We had a downright evil art teacher in the latter part of elementary school that made sure I knew I had zero talent in that area. But it wasn't a disappointment because I had no expectations there. From the earliest days I was no good with the visual arts thing. My friends didn't want me using their coloring books because I scribbled. I couldn't stay in the lines with my crayon like the other kids, so I didn't even try. Playdough was for making snakes. Period. And I hate snakes. I was in the church children's choir but in the back and off to the side where I couldn't do any damage. I even joined the bell choir, but ended up being entrusted with only one bell and even then the director had to pause in her conducting and point at me when she wanted me to bong the thing; I was lost. I took up the trombone in 4th grade after the band guy came in and gave an assembly showing us all the different instruments we could learn. I had meant trumpet, but wrote trombone. Whatever, I didn't expect to be able to do it, so what difference did it make? I was in a small class with two of us, me and Doug Miller. Doug was a musical prodigy. I struggled for about four months trying to learn three notes and then gave up. I eventually took a photography class in high school and that's been my "artistic" outlet ever since. Recently I've started mucking about with Photoshop and fooling myself that THAT is "art."
I don't mean to be complaining here, I have been perfectly happy living within what I know I can do and do well. Controlling expectations leads to minimizing disappointment, right? I don't get jealous of the people who can hit a baseball at the picnic (I struck out at wiffleball at a work picnic once), or sing or dance or play golf once in a blue moon and still score less than 120. I enjoy them for what they are and remain happy with what I am, in my comfort zone. That is until this year.
 |
| Munchkin Houses :) |
Now we come to the Charles Dickens Festival. After telling Jen I was happy to be involved with the theatre, but couldn't act, sing or dance, I find myself preparing to portray Uriah Heep, dance in front of an audience and help sing showtunes from Oliver! Once again, Jen drew me out of my happy place gently. She told me the character acting wasn't that much different than the murder mystery parties we'd done a few years back. She told me the dance was more walking around and clapping then really dancing. She just bluntly told me that I was going to join in the singing. A few years ago I'd have had no part in these things, especially trying to sing in front of people, but something's changed. I'm wondering if I don't set my bar too low. I'm wondering if I'm not just lazy. I'm wondering how much of a disservice I've done to myself allowing that laziness. It's been on my mind a lot this week.
I love having people in my life who accept me as I am. I try to be that to others, to remind them that they are great just as they are. But lately I've been challenged to be more than I was. It isn't always comfortable and I fight it sometimes. I have dismissed high standards people hold for themselves and others as "perfectionism," and that was wrong. Comfort zones are for lazy people and I'm going to try to break that habit. And I promise to try to help others do the same in the future. It's a big switch for me, but I have every idea that given time and maybe a few reminders I can maybe bring others the gift Great Expectations.
Monday, October 29, 2012
Goodbye, HMS Bounty
 |
| This is the Captain's cabin on the HMS Bounty and it's off limits to visitors. Just so happened the crew member watching the entrance wandered off. It took about half a second for Misty and I to decide to slip under the rope and enjoy the good life of Captains of the Ship. |
I understand the human tragedy here and I guess some would think this terribly missing that point, but I'm going to write about losing the ship. If that bothers you, stop here, or bear with me and maybe you'll see where I'm going with this. The Bounty wasn't a person, she had no soul (in the religious sense) and no family (in the genetic sense) and she shouldn't be mourned as if she was a person. But it's not wrong to mourn her, I think, not wrong to feel a real sadness that she rests now at the bottom of the Atlantic, never to sail again. I do feel that sadness, a sense of loss. I think that woman next to me in the picture, our friend Misty, feels it too, and without assuming to speak for her, I'm going to try to explain why we do.
There's a reason ships are called "she" and not "it." Ships, especially sailing ships, evoke emotion in sailors and would be sailors. They represent much more than wood and hemp and canvas. They represent freedom. They represent escape. Or maybe it's more to the point to say that they represent......possibilities. That's the crux of it for me, I think. I already feel very free and I have nothing to escape from, my life being pretty damned good, and yet I'm drawn to a ship like the Bounty on a very basic level. Misty is as well. We HAD to go see her, and we HAD to go see her together. We did the same thing when the US Coast Guard's Eagle came to town. We walked around these ships not saying much but both thinking the same thing, "What if....?" What if I had her for my own? Where could I go? What could I do? How would it be to wake up in the morning to the sound of water running against a wooden hull and know I had the whole of the ocean open to me? We joked about stowing away, but neither of us wanted that and soon it turned to imaginings of flat out piracy. We didn't want to just be on the ship, we wanted to have the ship, to be a part of her and her of us and to go where we pleased. When I was on the Bounty, I could feel all of that inside of me. Possibility, pure, unadulterated possibility, seemed closer. Just being aboard her did it.
And now she's gone and I'm sad.
Sunday, October 28, 2012
Dickens Diary
We had our first rehearsal for Fezziwig's Ball, our part of Southport's inaugural Charles Dickens Christmas Festival, yesterday. I wrote about taking part in this a few posts ago, and figured I'd follow the experience along on Pooh Sticks, you know, because it's my blog and I want to ;)
We were experiencing a "tropical weather event" yesterday, and from the sounds of it outside right now today as well. There had been some concern as to whether or not practice would go on, but it turned out to just be rainy and the show, such as it was, went on. We had a good turn-out, I thought, and I was happy to see some friends from our Wizard of Oz experience again. The associate pastor of our church and his wife also turned out, at the insistence of their grandson. I was really happy to see that, they are two of the nicest, most down to earth and fun people we know and I can't wait to share this with them. They are looking to expand their horizons, something I can totally relate to. I love to see people opening new doors.
We signed up for shifts at the party, requested costumes and volunteered to help with refreshments and decorating. We worked on our dance and I think learned it fairly well. It's very close to something I did during a rather unfortunate phys ed class in college. We laughed and danced around and bumped into each other and tried not to step on the toddlers weaving between our legs all the while. It was the kind of experience we expect from this group, and we loved it very much.
The wandering characters were discussed a bit and I asked about a script for Uriah Heep, but he hasn't got one yet. I'm very excited about that part of the Dickens weekend, but I have to say it reminds me of a thought I had in Disney. We were watching one of the parades go by, I think it was the random one we happened upon while trying to leave the Magic Kingdom on our last day, and I saw Terk, the gorilla from Tarzan. I got to thinking about how many people saw him and thought, "Who's the monkey?" I mean, Disney's Tarzan is a fine film, but not one of the classics or most popular by any stretch. I wondered how the guy inside there felt when he excitedly shared his news that finally he was going to be a "head character" in the parks (in a parade even!) with his friends and they asked who he was going to be. Would he be Donald? Goofy? A relatively minor character like FroZone or Mr. Smee? "Nope," he would say proudly, "I'm Terk." I wondered at the expressions on his friends' faces. Would they be so rude as ask who the Hell Terk was? Or would they congratulate him and wait til later to hit Google?
In my case, I had only a vague idea of who Uriah Heep was myself when Jen brought up the idea of playing him, so when I tell people who I'm going to portray I always explain who he is. I have some rather more literary than average friends, so they catch right on. Don't misunderstand, I'm very happy with Uriah. I would pick a bad guy over a good any day, and playing someone less familiar takes a lot of the pressure of "getting it right" off my head. I'm not an actor, so that is a very good thing. But still, it reminds me of that guy in the monkey suit on the Disney parade float. I am sure it didn't matter to him who he played. He was at Disney World, he was in the parade, he was portraying a character that animators and writers spent months breathing life into. That's awesome and exciting and something to be extremely proud of. I knew who he was, after all, and when he went by I hollared out a "TERK!!!!". I really hope he heard me :)
We were experiencing a "tropical weather event" yesterday, and from the sounds of it outside right now today as well. There had been some concern as to whether or not practice would go on, but it turned out to just be rainy and the show, such as it was, went on. We had a good turn-out, I thought, and I was happy to see some friends from our Wizard of Oz experience again. The associate pastor of our church and his wife also turned out, at the insistence of their grandson. I was really happy to see that, they are two of the nicest, most down to earth and fun people we know and I can't wait to share this with them. They are looking to expand their horizons, something I can totally relate to. I love to see people opening new doors.
We signed up for shifts at the party, requested costumes and volunteered to help with refreshments and decorating. We worked on our dance and I think learned it fairly well. It's very close to something I did during a rather unfortunate phys ed class in college. We laughed and danced around and bumped into each other and tried not to step on the toddlers weaving between our legs all the while. It was the kind of experience we expect from this group, and we loved it very much.
The wandering characters were discussed a bit and I asked about a script for Uriah Heep, but he hasn't got one yet. I'm very excited about that part of the Dickens weekend, but I have to say it reminds me of a thought I had in Disney. We were watching one of the parades go by, I think it was the random one we happened upon while trying to leave the Magic Kingdom on our last day, and I saw Terk, the gorilla from Tarzan. I got to thinking about how many people saw him and thought, "Who's the monkey?" I mean, Disney's Tarzan is a fine film, but not one of the classics or most popular by any stretch. I wondered how the guy inside there felt when he excitedly shared his news that finally he was going to be a "head character" in the parks (in a parade even!) with his friends and they asked who he was going to be. Would he be Donald? Goofy? A relatively minor character like FroZone or Mr. Smee? "Nope," he would say proudly, "I'm Terk." I wondered at the expressions on his friends' faces. Would they be so rude as ask who the Hell Terk was? Or would they congratulate him and wait til later to hit Google?
.jpg) |
| Terk. Know him, love him :) |
In my case, I had only a vague idea of who Uriah Heep was myself when Jen brought up the idea of playing him, so when I tell people who I'm going to portray I always explain who he is. I have some rather more literary than average friends, so they catch right on. Don't misunderstand, I'm very happy with Uriah. I would pick a bad guy over a good any day, and playing someone less familiar takes a lot of the pressure of "getting it right" off my head. I'm not an actor, so that is a very good thing. But still, it reminds me of that guy in the monkey suit on the Disney parade float. I am sure it didn't matter to him who he played. He was at Disney World, he was in the parade, he was portraying a character that animators and writers spent months breathing life into. That's awesome and exciting and something to be extremely proud of. I knew who he was, after all, and when he went by I hollared out a "TERK!!!!". I really hope he heard me :)
Saturday, October 27, 2012
Getting It
We saw more "bad behavior" on this Disney trip than any before. We saw a physical fight over parade watching spots narrowly averted by a cast member our first night in the park. The next day we witnessed a man jump off the Walt Disney World Railroad train while it was going regular speed between two stops. He'd apparently dropped his cell phone. He was almost thrown from the park, saved, we assume, by his pre-school daughter wearing a princess costume. Groups of foreign tourists speaking loudly over the narration of attractions was the norm rather than the exception. We noticed an unusual number of parents screaming at kids, and often kids who seemed to be doing nothing wrong. We saw 8, 10, maybe even 12-year-olds attached to dads with leashes. I don't know if we were just more sensitive to this stuff because we ourselves were so relaxed and happy and paying a lot of attention to everything going on around us, but on this trip all three of us picked up on many people who just weren't getting it. It made us feel really lucky to not be one of "those families," and coming home, I've become very happy to be surrounded by people who really do "get it."
We are a Disney Geek family. We all three see the Disney Magic as something real and valuable and important. I'm not shy about my love for Disney, as evidenced by this blog and it's accompanying Facebook page, and neither is the lovely Miss Lisa. This has led us to some good natured ribbing, of course, but also to discover some other Disney Geeks in our daily lives. I've found that others in the salesman community are as enthusiastic about Disney as myself. We can go on for hours in the back room of a grocery store discussing the latest discounts, the pros and cons of renting Disney Vacation Club points, character meals, crowd levels and all other aspects of trip planning. We use so many acronyms, I doubt anyone else can understand what we're saying. Lisa works for our town government and has found a cadre of dedicated Disney Geeks in charge of our police force. One officer sent us down with pins to trade and when we brought him back a Mickey sheriff's badge pin, he went to brag to the Chief, who already had one of his own of course. They proceeded to try one-upping each other with Disney collectibles they owned. The pastor of our church is another Disney-phile who made a point to tell me how much joy he gets out of the pictures I post and assured me that the experience our son gets on a family trip to Disney World is worth much more than any money we spent. Disney Geekery is everywhere.
I wrote before we left for our trip about how much fun I expected to have sharing our memories upon our return. What makes that sharing fun, and rewarding, is having people who "get it" to share with. Going through the Disney parks with Lisa and John is pure heaven for me because we all three appreciate it, nothing is forced, no one is just going along to see the others have fun. When Walt spoke in the movie shown at the end of "One Man's Dream" about wanting to build a park where parents and children could enjoy a place completely together because that's what he wanted for himself and his daughters, Lisa teared up. She understands what makes the magic. It's love, pure and simple. Behind all the corporatism and licensing and money, is the love one man had for his family and the world at large. That's why Disney works, why it's different. It's enough to move anyone to tears, anyone who get's it anyway.
My family is lucky to have another family who sees Disney in exactly the same way. Adrian and Jen and their boys Max and Milo are exactly the same kind of Disney Family as we are. They recently returned from a trip to Disneyland and the sharing of our two experiences has been a true joy. The similarities in the way we take in the parks is uncanny. We all try to capture the magic on camera, we have several thousand pictures between us, but I was amazed at how we all saw the same things as interesting or noteworthy. I've gotten used to pretty much sharing a brain with Lisa, so when we found we'd taken pictures of the same doorknob we weren't the least bit surprised. We shot lots of "detail" picture, ones we laughed about no one seeing us knowing what the heck we could be taking a picture of. Well, Jen would have known. While I took a picture of the light fixture on the ceiling of the WDW Railroad passenger car, Jen took one of the light in her room. Lisa took tons of door pictures, Jen has several of the inside of an elevator. Jen and I both took pictures of the entrance to Adventureland that aside from being from opposite ends of the country, could be the same shot. It's just really funny to me, and heartwarming. It's nice to have kindred spirits out there.
It's not just the pictures, though. I mean how many people take the time
to set down in a blog the joys of waiting in line? Back in February, I did, and here's a part of it:
Jen wrote on her personal blog yesterday all about waiting in the Radiator Springs Racers queue in Cars Land at Disneyland for two hours while they got the ride working again. She wasn't complaining, she was celebrating one of the best parts of her trip. Not only did she and Max take the time together to just be together, she experienced the joy of seeing her son get it while he pointed out Imagineering details to her. I couldn't have expressed it better myself, though I did express the very same experience from our trip. Here's a bit from Jen's blog:
That's what I mean by "getting it." It's what made Lisa get emotional at a movie. It's what makes me write this blog. It's magic, the real thing.
Just after we got home from Disney and a day or so before they left for their trip, I was dropping something off at Jen and Adrian's house. As I was leaving, Max came over to give me a hug and said, "I can't wait to get back so we can get together and share our stories!" A seven year old looking forward to getting home so he could relive his experience with his friends. He gets it. That's what keeps the Disney Magic alive.
We are a Disney Geek family. We all three see the Disney Magic as something real and valuable and important. I'm not shy about my love for Disney, as evidenced by this blog and it's accompanying Facebook page, and neither is the lovely Miss Lisa. This has led us to some good natured ribbing, of course, but also to discover some other Disney Geeks in our daily lives. I've found that others in the salesman community are as enthusiastic about Disney as myself. We can go on for hours in the back room of a grocery store discussing the latest discounts, the pros and cons of renting Disney Vacation Club points, character meals, crowd levels and all other aspects of trip planning. We use so many acronyms, I doubt anyone else can understand what we're saying. Lisa works for our town government and has found a cadre of dedicated Disney Geeks in charge of our police force. One officer sent us down with pins to trade and when we brought him back a Mickey sheriff's badge pin, he went to brag to the Chief, who already had one of his own of course. They proceeded to try one-upping each other with Disney collectibles they owned. The pastor of our church is another Disney-phile who made a point to tell me how much joy he gets out of the pictures I post and assured me that the experience our son gets on a family trip to Disney World is worth much more than any money we spent. Disney Geekery is everywhere.
I wrote before we left for our trip about how much fun I expected to have sharing our memories upon our return. What makes that sharing fun, and rewarding, is having people who "get it" to share with. Going through the Disney parks with Lisa and John is pure heaven for me because we all three appreciate it, nothing is forced, no one is just going along to see the others have fun. When Walt spoke in the movie shown at the end of "One Man's Dream" about wanting to build a park where parents and children could enjoy a place completely together because that's what he wanted for himself and his daughters, Lisa teared up. She understands what makes the magic. It's love, pure and simple. Behind all the corporatism and licensing and money, is the love one man had for his family and the world at large. That's why Disney works, why it's different. It's enough to move anyone to tears, anyone who get's it anyway.
 |
| Lisa's doorknob pic |
 |
| my doorknob pic |
 |
| light on the train |
 |
| A door in Norway |
 |
| Elevator in the Disneyland Hotel |
 |
| A faucet in Disneyland Hotel |
 |
| Disneyland Hotel light |
"We aren't opposed to waiting in line, though, for something we all really want to do. Two hours is a bit much, but even for an hour and a half we have been known to suck it up and wait. It's really not the end of the world. There's lots to do in line. Disney has spent a tremendous amount of time and imagination and money making even the queuing areas of its attractions interesting. That's not even to mention the people watching opportunities. I pity the people who never wait in line and as a result miss out on mocking the other Disney guests' dress, hairstyle, accent, mannerisms and child-rearing skills. What do you people talk about at dinner? Even if you are sickeningly nice and don't get snarky and mean about strangers, you could spend time in line talking to your family. Imagine that! You are on vacation and the children, if not the adults, are probably close to sensory over-load. Talking about what you've done and seen and what adventures are yet to come make passing the time in line rather enjoyable."
Jen wrote on her personal blog yesterday all about waiting in the Radiator Springs Racers queue in Cars Land at Disneyland for two hours while they got the ride working again. She wasn't complaining, she was celebrating one of the best parts of her trip. Not only did she and Max take the time together to just be together, she experienced the joy of seeing her son get it while he pointed out Imagineering details to her. I couldn't have expressed it better myself, though I did express the very same experience from our trip. Here's a bit from Jen's blog:
"It didn't really matter....because even though, all told, Max and I stood on that queue for almost two hours, it was so very enjoyable. At no point did he whine or complain (that would have made me get out of the line immediately, and he probably knew that!), and he tried his best to entertain the people in line around us (yeah, you know he did). Even better, HE kept pointing out all these amazing Imagineered details to ME, and I loved how observant and interested he was. We talked and we laughed and we shared an overpriced water bottle that a costumed cast member wisely started hawking to his captive audience, and we giggled over the texted photos of Milo enjoying A Bug's Land, and we imagined and we planned and we enjoyed each other. There was no laundry to be done, there were no emails distracting me, there was no need to do school work, there was no Milo hanging on me....just two hours of Max and Mom time, doing something purely for fun."
That's what I mean by "getting it." It's what made Lisa get emotional at a movie. It's what makes me write this blog. It's magic, the real thing.
Just after we got home from Disney and a day or so before they left for their trip, I was dropping something off at Jen and Adrian's house. As I was leaving, Max came over to give me a hug and said, "I can't wait to get back so we can get together and share our stories!" A seven year old looking forward to getting home so he could relive his experience with his friends. He gets it. That's what keeps the Disney Magic alive.
 |
| Walt Disney World's Adventureland entrance |
 |
| Disneyland's Adventureland entrance |
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)