One Small Voice

Back in the summer there was a huge hoopla surrounding Chick-Fil-A. I, as I often do, expressed my opinion in a post. The Internet, news media, social media, and print media were filled with those same opinions ranging from Chick-Fil-A was out to get the gay and lesbian population to God himself invented the chicken sandwich. My issue wasn't with the comments that were made, albeit I did not agree. My issue was with the fact that I chose not to spend my money knowing it would trickle down to an anti-gay organization. Many people felt the same as I and decided to no longer patronize Chick-Fil-A. This is not a post to rehash how I feel about Chick-Fil-A. It is a post about how speaking up can make a difference. I know that in my younger days I never really got involved with politics. My attitude was mostly apathetic. What difference can I make? I'm only one person. In the past few years things have changed for me. Maybe it's because everything, every news item, every event is in front of our eyes in seconds. So when the uproar of outrage crashed over this country like a wave in response to Chick-Fil-A, people made their feelings known. Last week, a good friend of mine sent me an article to read. Chick-Fil-A, I am assuming because of public outcry, was pulling their funding from Anti-gay organizations. Yay, Chick-Fil-A! Thank you for listening. Thank you for doing something that I am sure you will take heat on as well, but I feel like it was the right thing. This is a big year for using your one small voice to speak up no matter what side of an issue you're on, folks. Not to sound corny, but we can make a difference, but not by doing nothing or remaining quiet. "Be the change you want to see in the world." ~ Mahatma Ghandi

Thursday's Child Has Far To Go

For the first time in 20 years, I am not spending the day with my oldest on her birthday. 20 years ago today I set my alarm very early to go to St. Mary's hospital to be induced. I was going to have my first child. I didn't know what I was having. I chose to be surprised. The baby chose to stay inside for as long as possible. Originally due on the 7th of September, the wee one decided it was too comfortable inside, and was going to wait it out. Hence the induction on the morning of the 24th of September. It was a LONG day, and when I say long I mean never ending. Even with the induction, which, by the way, throws you into hard labor right away, I still wasn't progressing at all. Finally after about 7 1/2 hours, the Pitocin was stopped, and it was decided that C-section was the safest option for Mom and baby. However, my OBGYN was held up at another hospital, and at 7PM, twelve hours after we had started this journey, we were still waiting. He finally arrived around 8PM, and then I felt like a race car making a pit stop at Indy. They transferred me from hospital bed to surgical bed. Next thing I knew, we are racing down the hall to the surgical suite, and by 8:16, I had a 9lb. 10oz. baby girl. We were prepared with a boy and girl name, depending, so Leanna Michelle was officially a part of our family. The next week was filled with ups and downs as we got used to each other, but pretty soon I got the hang of motherhood, and it was good.
There is a poem that I have always loved, and I have actually sung this as a choral piece:
Monday's child is fair of face,
Tuesday's child is full of grace,
Wednesday's child is full of woe,
Thursday's child has far to go,
Friday's child is loving and giving,
Saturday's child works hard for a living,
And the child that is born on the Sabbath day
Is bonny and blithe and good and gay.
Leanna Michelle is a Thursday's child, as is her sister, and as am I. When I was growing up and heard that poem and applied the Thursday phrase to myself, I always thought of it in a negative way like, "Oh, great. I've got far to go." as in I have a long way to go before I can achieve my goals and dreams. Looking at my precious first born, I have learned from her determination and passion and resilience that "far to go" means there is no limit to where she can go. She will go far. Don't believe me? Just ask her! She began her first year in college this year. She is the first in our family to go to college. I am so proud of her. She has only been there for a little under two months, and she is already taking the place by storm. She has been cast as Charlotte in Charlotte's Web, the freshman showcase show, and she is the freshman blog writer for the Theatre Department. You can follow her writings as well here. Today she turns 20. She is no longer a teenager. She is a young woman embarking on a glorious journey to an amazing future. How fortunate I am that I am along for the ride!

One Bad Apple

It seems that one of the hot button issues of this election is a class issue: Who's on the side of the middle class? Who's on the side of the rich? With Social Media, it is no secret how a lot of people feel. My news feed is clogged with postings of how people feel about THEIR candidate. I don't talk much about politics, and I have tried not to make this blog about it. This post will be no different than any other post. I have seen something that has inspired me to tell how I feel. Something has pushed my buttons, and I have to react. Tonight a friend posted something she had seen on Facebook along with her comment of how unfunny she thought it was. It was a phrase that attempted biting humor, and it took a crack at the welfare system, and all the people who use it.

When I read this, I was offended. Why? Because I am one who has received a welfare check and food stamps. I do not drink beer or smoke crack. And I have to say, that every time I went to the grocery store and used the food stamps, I was embarrassed. BUT, if I had not had the welfare system to rely on when I was left with nothing, my kids and I may have starved or been out on the street. Am I saying that the welfare system is perfect? No, far from it, but, just because some people take advantage of the system does not make every person that uses it the low class thug that is being described in the picture above. I don't have all the answers, and I am not trying to tell anyone how to vote. What I am saying is that we need to stop judging each other and stereotyping each other and spewing hate. Until we start working together, it won't matter who wins in November.

4 Shows a day, 7 days a week

It all ended at about 4:15 yesterday afternoon. If you follow this blog, I've written several posts about a show I was doing called "Always, Patsy Cline" with Va-Rep Theater here in Richmond. The first run opened January 20, 2012 and ran until April 29, 2012. Because of the popularity of the first run, the powers that be brought it back, and a re-mount opened on August 10, 2012 and closed after six more weeks running with yesterday's matinee. I have spent the better part of a year adoring "Patsy Cline" through the eyes of my character, Louise Seger, a devout, and by today's standards, maybe even crazed fan of Patsy's from 1957 until Patsy's tragic death in a plane crash in 1963. True to form, I was emotional yesterday. You would think after doing the same part for a total of 21 weeks on an average of 4 times a week I would have been ready to say good-bye. Judging from the tears streaming down my face as I made the final speech about how Louise hears of Patsy's death on the radio, I wasn't. Was this show a good time? Yes. Was it fun for the audience? Yes. Was it fun for me? Yes, but it also made me think. It is no secret that I love performing. I feel honored and blessed to be able to share a talent that I have been given with others. That doesn't mean I don't get tired. That doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt when I miss important family things because I'm performing, (my daughter's college orientation). However, comparing my performing life with Patsy Cline's, mine is a dream. I remember the first time I read the speech that Louise makes about Patsy's death. "...they came on the radio and said that Patsy Cline had died in an airplane crash on her way back to Nashville. She was only 30 years old." I thought, wow, she was only 30? Every picture I had ever seen of Patsy Cline made me think she was older than 30. By today's standards, 30 is so young. She obviously did not have it easy, as was the case of so many starts of that era, Elvis, Judy Garland come to mind. There was no spoiling or pampering. Their managers literally worked them constantly. Patsy makes a speech in the show and talks about going to Las Vegas where she will be doing 4 shows a day, 7 days a week. I have done some 2 show days in my time, and even some 3 show days when I was very young, and I was beat, and I wasn't even the headliner. How does someone sing their heart out for 4 shows and even be able to function? In the play when Patsy and Louise meet at a honky tonk in Houston, Patsy has taken a taxi from her hotel way out to a "big old barn like structure out on Hampstead Highway" She has no entourage, no bodyguards, not even a manager with her. She's working with the house band that she's not even sure knows her music and she's all alone. I've never been "on the road", but I know it's a hard life, especially if you have a family. I never thought about that until I did this show. I never thought about the sacrifices that stars like Patsy Cline made to make a living using their gift. When she died at 30, she left two little ones, a boy and a girl, who probably never really got to know their mother because she was on the road while they were young, and then they lost her. Her music touched so many, but at such a great cost to her. Like I said, it made me think. Mostly how very lucky I am, and the next time I want to whine about how tired I am because I have to do a matinee after getting up early to go to church or go to my real job after doing a show the night before, I'll stop and think what things could be like if I was Patsy Cline in 1961, and be thankful.