What Rhymes With Duck?

Seventy-five, the diamond jubilee, 3/4 of a century, milestone. Today the number 75 belongs to my mom. She was born on this day in 1939. I often joke that I can remember my mother's age because she was born the same year that "The Wizard of Oz" (my all time favorite movie) and "Gone with the Wind" were released. What stellar films to share your birth year with, but I digress. My mother was born Peggy Anne Meintel to Margaret Chapman Oliver and Alfred John Meintel. She was their second child having an older brother, Alfred John Meintel, Jr. She grew up in Canton, OH but moved here to Richmond, VA, in her tween years to stay with my aunt as her mother was having major surgery. She would tell me stories when I was little about how she was scared to tell anyone who she was at school because her name, Meintel, was clearly German, and Germans weren't the most popular in America in the early 1940's. My mom was a teenager right smack dab in the middle of the 1950's, a decade my generation glamorized with musicals like "Grease" and the television show, Happy Days. From the pictures I have seen of my mom at that time, I fancy her a bit of a rebel. She didn't have the high pony tail like every other girl, she had a ducktail. She went away to school for her Junior and Senior year to PEACE college in Raleigh, NC. All the pictures I've seen of her, she was a beauty, and still is for that matter. Fast forward a bit. In the late 50's she was working for a company called National Cash Register or NCR for short, and one of the cash register repairmen fell for her. That man was my dad, Ralph Jackson Moore. In 1960 they were married, and that proved to be no easy task as they had both had previous marriages and many pastors refused to marry them. What a difference 54 years make, huh? In two years they had my sister, Jenna, and I came along on Halloween day in 1963.
So, if you ask my sister, she thinks I'm a freak because I remember things in major detail, sometimes down to what I'm wearing. I remember a lot of things about my mom from my very early childhood, as early as age 3. I remember driving down to Florida in our brown station wagon, me and my sister laying down and sleeping in the back as we left mega early in the morning. We stopped at some restaurant to have breakfast, and I have a memory clear as day of my mother sitting me on the back of the open tailgate of the station wagon changing me from my pajamas into a Peanuts White sweatshirt, a pair of dungarees, as she called them, translation: blue jeans, and a sailor hat with the brim turned down. I remember her always having spiced apple rings at Christmas dinner because I liked those. She sang to me a lot when I was little. The song that really stands out to me, oddly, is Here Comes Santa Claus. She always put the tree up and decorated it on Christmas Eve, and she was a great cook! We spent most weekends with my grandparents, and I can remember coming home on Sunday nights and taking in the smells that were wafting out of the kitchen of whatever she had cooked for her and my dad. My favorite? Hamburgers, gravy and rice. I had those leftovers many a Monday morning for breakfast. One of my absolute favorite memories involving me and my mom is, ironically, not the best situation for me, but it's one of those, we'll look back on this and laugh one day kind of memories. I was about 7 years old, and my mom, my sister and I, were shopping at the A&P, a grocery store in our neighborhood. We were coming down the dairy aisle, and I asked Mom if she would buy me some canned whipped cream. She said no. I trailed along behind my mother and sister making up my own cuss words. Now, I must insert here that my family did not use cuss words, I had only heard the occasional damn, and my mother's personal favorite when things weren't going right, hell's bells, but none of the biggies! I decided this day to make up words that rhymed with duck. You see where this is going, right? "Duck! Muck! F**k!" My mother wheeled around so fast, and I knew from the look on her face that I was in big trouble, but I had no idea what I'd done. Of course her first inclination was to ask, "What did you say?" So, of course, I repeated it right there in the aisle of the A&P right next to the Hostess snack cakes. I don't remember a whole lot immediately after that, but I do remember when my dad got home, my mom had to write the word down to tell my father what I had said. They swore I heard it from someone, but I truly had just picked the wrong letter combination.
In spite of my raucous language, my mother decided to keep me around, and we had many, many years of great memories. She has been there for me in some of the most difficult times in my life. She was the best Grandma my girls could ever have, and there are too many valuable things to name that she has taught me, and I will forever be grateful. Happy Birthday, Mom! Have a duckin' great day!

Tonight I Am Sad

There is a song from Wicked that as soon as I hear the first few notes of the introduction, I start to cry. The song is For Good. The beginning lyrics from that song come to mind tonight. They are: "I've heard it said that people come into our lives for a reason bringing something we must learn, and we are led to those who help us most to grow if we let them." This afternoon I found out that a wonderful man from my church passed away on Monday. He had been sick for some time, but he was still very young, only 61. His name was Rick Riviere, and the reason he "came into my life" was because he was my daughters' Sunday School teacher. I can count the times on one hand that we actually had a lengthy conversation, but in those few times he made a huge impression on me. He was that kind of person. You knew that every word he spoke to you was sincere and the truth. Both of my daughters adored him as a Sunday School teacher. His concern and passion for sharing his faith with young people was evident. I know he made an impact on my girls! Today, I was sitting in my office at work, and the news came by email. When I read it, I began to cry. And as most of us do when we lose someone we begin to think of the connection we had with them and the memories we share with them. This situation was no different, and as I rode home from work, I thought of another song by Ray Boltz called Thank You, and the tears started again. The particular verse that I thought of goes like this:  
"He said friend you may not know me now
And then he said, but wait
You used to teach my Sunday School
When I was only eight
And every week you would say a prayer
Before the class would start
And one day when you said that prayer
I asked Jesus in my heart

Thank you for giving to the Lord
I am a life that was changed
Thank you for giving to the Lord
I am so glad you gave"

Rick, I know that there are lines of people all around you right now thanking you for changing their life. I know you changed mine.

Another Kind of Mother

In about 20 minutes Mother's Day will be over. I have had a wonderful day filled with precious time with my youngest and reading lovely tributes that brought tears to my eyes from my oldest away at college, but this post is not about my role as a Mother. It is about someone else's. Over the past two years I have had the incredible fortune to be able to work pretty consistently as an actress. This is wonderful, but it comes at a price. When you work as an actor, you do not have the luxury of taking a vacation day to do something you need to or be at a family event, or, in my case, attend a concert or two of my daughter's or be at a first year college orientation. Luckily I have been blessed in my life with someone who was more than willing to step in as my substitute. I have to be honest, it's hard to give up that spot, even harder for me because I am a single mom. My kids are all I've got and I don't really have to share them with anyone, especially as they have gotten older. I also have their full support in my acting endeavors which makes it a little bit easier, but I do mean just a little bit. In the past 2 years, this person has stepped up to be the "mother" for my girls at college orientation, district choir, Fall and Holiday concerts, and she was even there for my youngest's first official date, all while I was on stage entertaining people. My girls love her dearly and she them, and there is not anything she would not do for them. That woman is my sister. SO today, on Mother's Day, I want to say Thank You for being the mother for my girls when I couldn't be. They appreciate it, and so do I, more than you will ever know!

Suddenly Audrey

Saturday evening I was driving, and I felt a little numb (emotionally not physically for those reading this who are concerned for my safety) I was feeling maybe a little blue, but not really sad. It was just weird. I guess I was feeling Magenta, as Blanche Devereaux from "The Golden Girls" would call it. The week prior had been a tornado of frenzied activity as my baby girl was in her last rehearsals leading up to her final 3 shows in High School. I was helping with make-up and hair, so I was right there with her every night caught up in all of it! And then it was all over. I guess that's what I can blame the Magenta feeling on. You know how you feel when a television show you've followed for years finally ends? You've spent years with these people and watching performances that move you and make you laugh, and then that fateful day arrives when you realize I'm never going to see this again. I'm not doing very well at expressing this. I have talked about my youngest in blog posts before. We are extremely close! I have bragged about her singing and acting before, but this was different. Each night I was backstage with her right before show time, and behind the false eyelashes and platinum blond wig, she was her same old self, joking and laughing with her friends, getting frustrated with me because I wasn't styling the wig exactly the way she wanted it, and anything else that's uniquely her. Then I would leave to take my place in the audience to watch the production, Little Shop of Horrors. When Georgi walked out on that stage, she was Audrey, voice, mannerisms, walk, totally transformed. And then she opens her mouth to sing. WOW! Now, let me stop here to say that I am not surprised by her performance at all. In fact I have come to expect it because, plain and simple, she has a God-given talent for all of this. I wish I had been as good as she is when I was 18! Maybe I would have had the courage to GO FOR IT, as they say. Here's the thing, she doesn't realize just how good she is, and that natural talent, like hers, is rare, and that some day it will open huge doors for her. And I guess that's what made me have that numb kind of zenned out feeling, the realization that I was not going to get to see that phenomenal performance any more. It was a moment in time, and now it had passed, and I wasn't ever going to have that moment again. Now, that is not to say that she will never perform again. I know she will, but this one just hit me hard because it is the end of an era, and soon all things that have anything to do with childhood and growing up will be gone. And, yes, do you even have to ask, I am crying while typing this. So, thank you so much, Georgi, for letting me share in this wonderful experience, and seeing you become "Suddenly Audrey" I will miss her, and I know you will too.

With Each Day There Is Another Chance for Hope

Yesterday I wrote a post about the "monsters we have created." Today, as is often the case, I was lucky enough to witness something quite the opposite. This morning I got up at 7AM on a Saturday to travel up Route 64 to make it to Harrisonburg, VA, by 11AM to see a concert. Was it a rock star? No. My favorite Accapella group? No. It was a group of high school students, about 200 of them, and my daughter was among them. It was the Virginia All State Choir concert. Before my daughter left on Thursday for the 3 day rehearsal process, she gave me a copy of her schedule. It was grueling! The end product, though, was amazing! They were focused and created a beautiful, harmonious sound! They all had to go through a difficult audition to earn their place on that stage today. Before the concert began, one of the music faculty from the host high school addressed the very full auditorium. Coincidentally he had been a very active member of the youth group I co-lead about 20 years ago. He said something that lifted me out of the very despondent attitude I had yesterday. He talked about students who are in the creative arts, and how important it is that we provide support for those programs. He said that when you see the wonderful dedication that all of these students have to create something so special, it gives us all hope. And just like that, tears rolled down my cheeks, and that's exactly what I felt, hope and pride in the child I had raised and every student on that stage. Did it change anything that happened yesterday? No, but it did allow me to see that for all the bad in the world, there is also good.

The Monsters We've Created

Just when I think I can't see or hear about anything worse than the sadness that already exists in the world, today I read that a 16 year old girl was stabbed to death in the halls of her high school allegedly because she turned down a request to go to her school's prom. She was an athlete and a scholar, and she had her whole life ahead of her. She went to school this morning just like every other morning, and her life ended. What has happened? I am amazed that any child these days can even function in school having these horror stories hanging over their heads. What kind of generation are we raising that they have no regard for human life, even their own? When I was in high school, and yes, I realize that was more than 30 years ago, but the worst thing I had to worry about was taking a test I hadn't really studied for. I was never afraid at school. I knew my share of assholes and jerks and drama causers, but I was never afraid for my life. Stop and think about that for just a minute. School has become a place where our children can get killed. And I'm going to probably ruffle a few feathers here, and I am not trying to stir up a debate. This is just my observation, my opinion. Banning things is not going to help. We need to start raising our children to respect others and respect themselves. How someone could so easily take someone else's life without any regard or thought of consequences to the young girl, her family, himself or his family. I'm not saying that there is a simple solution to this out of control problem, but what I am saying is that we have to start at the beginning as parents as mentors. We need to teach at the very start that there are consequences to our actions and stop making excuses for bad behavior. If we excuse small things, that leads to letting bigger things go, and soon we have created the monsters who think nothing of stabbing a fellow student because things didn't go their way.

♪♫ If You're Ever in a Jam, Here I Am ♫♪

I am late with this post as I had wanted to post it on her actual birthday, April 17th, but Easter kind of got in the way. Last Thursday, my best friend turned 50. I turned the corner on that milestone 6 months ago, and she was right there to share it with me which is no surprise, as she has always been there for me. She is my best friend. Now, a lot of people say they have many best friends, but I can't get on board that train. If we really searched ourselves and were truthful we could all pinpoint one person that good times and bad are the one person we know we can count on. They know EVERYTHING about us, and they are still our friend. In fact they have probably been there for several of the most embarrassing moments of our lives. My best friend is no exception! I met her in my first year of middle school, 7th grade in 1976. I firmly believe that middle school is the seventh level of Hell. We are thrown together in a totally new environment where we have to change classes and remember locker combinations and the evil of all evils (cue ominous music) change for gym class. Stir into that pot a big helping of hormones, and you have the recipe for chaos and disaster. Because of this lethal combination, I think this is when we form our strongest bonds with friends as we are clinging to each other for survival as we navigate the dangerous waters far from the protective Armada we called elementary school. My middle school was a campus style school, so as we arrived each morning we would have to wait outside leaning against the wall of our homeroom. This is where I first met Lisa. I can still see her, long blond hair, glasses. I don't even remember how or what caused us to meet, but we became fast friends and spent most of 7th grade inseparable. We even had a crush on the same guy. Remember that thing about embarrassing moments? She and I shared a major one in Middle School. We had both been cast in the Drama Club's production of "Little Women," she as Meg and me as Jo. When opening night came we had never been through the whole show, not even once. I'm not even sure we had read the script all the way through. To this day I don't know how we got through it. I think we actually just made up the ending on the spot. We laugh about it now, but back then we were terrified. On to high school and we had Honors Biology together. I have no idea what I was thinking signing up for that torture. We sat at lab tables, and when we would have tests, the class was asked to move to the ends of the table so we couldn't cheat. Many times Lisa and I would read the first question silently and simultaneously look up at each other with that all too familiar look of horror indicating that neither one of us had the slightest idea how to answer the question. I barely squeaked by in that class. We did shows together,  created a French meal together and had sleepovers, and she even went on vacation with me. We spent countless days at Kings Dominion and acted out their show "Hooray for Hollywood" in her living room. Did I mention embarrassing? Over the last 38 years we have had our ups and downs. We even went through our first pregnancies together as her children are only 3 weeks younger than mine. At the darkest time in my life when I suspected that my marriage was about to fall apart, I called her, and after working a weekend shift at her job, she came over to sit with me and try to distract me from the hell my mind was going through. When my marriage was finally over, and I had nothing, she and her husband showed up with huge amounts of food to help us through. When my dad died and then shortly after that, my grandmother, she was right there with food and helping hands at the house as my sister and I were busy with other arrangements. We can go months without seeing each other and get together and pick up conversation like we talked on the phone the day before. I know she will always be there for me, and I for her. She's beautiful and smart and fun, and I love her, and I am sure we will be friends until we're so old we can't remember each other's names, and I am so glad! So..Happy Birthday, BEST FRIEND! Here's to 50 more!