Some Days Are Hard

Anyone who knows me or reads this blog with any regularity knows that I am an actor. I relish in being on stage and performing. I have been blessed to have been able to work pretty consistently since I started over 40 years ago, and in this past year I have stayed busier than usual. Right now I am doing a Christmas show, and I am very thankful because singing those Christmas songs for audiences night after night is helping fund a nicer Christmas for me and my girls. All is well, right? Wrong! When you are in a family of performers, as all 3 of us are, sometimes things conflict. Today was one of those days. It is very hard to be an actor and a mom. Ever since I became a single parent when my girls were 2 and 5, I have tried to be at every event in their lives. Every field day, school play, awards assemblies, winter and spring programs and chorus concerts. Most of the time I have made it. I can think of one other thing I missed, my oldest daughter's dance recital, but I did see the dress rehearsal. I missed that because of performing too. Today I missed my baby's final high school Christmas chorus concert because I was on stage myself 45 minutes away. She, of course, was very understanding and knows it was unavoidable, but it still didn't make it any easier for me that I missed my girl as she sang at her final Christmas concert. I will see a DVD, but it's not quite the same thing. I was not there to yell as she finished and clap louder than any other person. So today I write this to tell her how much I love her and I know that she rocked today! And to let her know how very grateful I am that she is so supportive
of my life in the theatre. I love you sweet girl! Thanks, as always, for understanding!

Where Are You, Christmas?

I was listening to the radio the other day and heard one of my new favorite Christmas songs by Faith Hill. It's called Where Are You, Christmas?, and it was written for the soundtrack of the 2000 film,  How the Grinch Stole Christmas, Ron Howard's spin on the classic tale by Dr. Seuss. Unlike the book, much of the film centers around Cindy Lou Who and her quest for what Christmas is all about. The song is sung by her character in the film. The first lyrics are: Where are you, Christmas?
               Why can't I find you?
               Why have you gone away?
               Where is the laughter you used to bring me?
               Why can't I hear music play?
I must confess that I have felt much like Cindy Lou Who this year. You would think that given the fact that I am performing in a "Christmas" show that I would be more in the Christmas spirit than any other year, but I'm just not. Somewhere along the way, I lost the wonder and excitement. Maybe part of it is the fact that every day, almost every moment is filled with something I have to do instead of something I want to do. I am usually the first to jump on the Christmas band wagon. Day after Thanksgiving my tree is up and decorated. My flag is out front. My wreath is on the door. Not this year! My tree is up and the lights on, but that is it, and it's sitting in the midst of my messy house. Now, to cut myself a little slack, we ran out of time to decorate before my oldest daughter had to be back at college after the Thanksgiving break, and so we have held off to do it as a family, but Christmas is creeping closer and closer. We have 14 days before the big day. If I decorated it tonight it would only be up for two weeks before it all was over. When did decorating for Christmas become a chore? Time was when I couldn't wait to decorate the tree! Where are you, Christmas? Why do I jam my life so full of going here and having to be there that I have no time to just enjoy what I used to love? Why can't I find you? I was watching a little Christmas movie last night, and it took place in a small, quaint little town. That's what I want! I want to live in the movies. I want to live in Bedford Falls or Stars Hollow, but I don't, so what do I do?
Today a company called Westjet propelled me, no pun intended, out of my funk and into what Christmas is all about, the spirit of giving. Watch the video below.

What an amazing thing this company did to bring joy to these families! Where are you, Christmas? Westjet knows. They found you and brought you to others, and that's what I need to remember! Thank you for reminding me that it's not about me! The joy of Christmas is found in the giving of myself to others.
                                                     

Age is Just a Number, Right?

Today is Halloween, but it is also something else for me, and this year, it is a milestone! I was born on October, 31, 1963, at 1:20 in the afternoon. My mother swears that the reason she went into labor is because she had spent the entire previous day walking the sidewalks of Willow Lawn Shopping Center searching for just the right shoes to go with my older sister's Halloween costume. It was later discovered that my sister just wanted to ride the little mini coin operated Merry-Go-Rounds in front of the shoe stores, but I digress. I guess I have my sister to thank for the fact that I am born on Halloween, which I have to say is a pretty cool birthday to have! All of my birthday parties growing up were costume parties, and that turns out to be a pretty neat thing when your passion in life is acting and theatre! Everybody celebrates your day, and you get FREE candy. As a kid, what can be better than that? But this post isn't about Halloween or costumes or candy. Today this post is about turning 50! That's right, folks, I have lived half a century! Wow, when you put it that way, it sounds really ominous! But I am in pretty good company of people who have also turned the 40's corner this year, Brad Pitt, Lisa Kudrow, Mike Meyers, Benjamin Bratt, Vanessa Williams, Helen Hunt, John Stamos, Gail O'Grady, Eric McCormack, Michael Jordan and Kathy Ireland to name just a few celebrities. I've never really been obsessed with age. That could have something to do with my genes. My grandmother never looked her age, and nor does my mother at age 74. My grandmother also lived to be 96, so I'm certainly not at death's door at 50. I won't lie, this is a BIG one for me, not because I feel old, or, I'll say it, I don't think I act or look old, it's because of the perception of 50 and above. I am now, officially a Senior Citizen, and that's a whole different group than people in their Forties. I probably wouldn't be focusing on that as much if I were not single. I feel like it will become more difficult to find a companion now. I mentioned this scenario to my sister, and, ever the optimist, she said that maybe it would now become easier! So...let's go with that. This is also not a post about finding a man, but if you have any extras laying around, throw them my way! <Cue rim shot!> Thank you, ladies and germs, I'll be here all week! Tip your waiters and waitresses! 
50 Years! What have I done in 50 years? Well, pretty darn much! I've been a professional actor, defining that as being paid to act upon the stage, since I was 10 years old, and have been pretty lucky to have worked pretty consistently all of my adult life! That's not too shabby when you live and breathe on the stage! I had the incredible opportunity to co-star in an independent feature film, and win an award for my performance. I have been nominated for my work on the stage, and I have won awards in drama and speech. All of this has happened pretty much without ever leaving "my own backyard" so to speak. Pretty lucky, if you ask me. But before this starts to sound like a brag sheet, let me focus on the intangible, the things that mean the most to me, good and bad. I have experienced the deepest love imaginable, and felt profound loss. I have laughed until I cried, and cried until I felt I couldn't cry anymore. I have been thrown into a fire of despair but forged that much stronger because of it. I have two amazing daughters, and, yes, I know every parent says that, but in this case, it's true. They truly are my best friends, and I am lucky enough that they consider me the same, a rare, rare thing these days. I had two parents who believed in my dreams even when I didn't, and always encouraged me to go after them, and even though our childhood relationship wasn't the best for lots of reasons, I have a sister who loves me and my kids, and is there when I need her always. Don't even get me started on how blessed I am in the friend department! Would I like to have more money? Sure! Would I like to be able to give my girls all the things they NEED, not want? Absolutely! But all things considered, these 50 years have been a wonderful ride, and I can't wait to see what the next 50 bring!

Who Was That Masked Man?

Wow! It's been a really long time since I've posted! Part of the reason for that is I was involved in a production of "To Kill a Mockingbird" that just closed. It was a wonderful experience as the story has always been one of my favorites. I've seen the movie several times, but doing the stage production really made me explore some different sides to issues raised in the story. One question that came up particularly interested me. Each Friday night after the show we would have a talkback. For those who don't know or have never participated in one, a talkback is a time set aside after the show for the cast to answer questions from the audience. Because of the legal nature of the show, many times our moderator was someone from the world of law. Our moderator on this specific evening was a judge from juvenile court. SPOILER ALERT!! She posed the question that with Atticus Finch having so much legal integrity, why was he willing to participate in a cover-up in regards to the death of Bob Ewell? If you've never seen or read the story, Bob Ewell, the town pariah and general despicable human being, and a white man, has accused a black man, falsely, of raping his daughter in order to keep the real truth from coming out that she hugged and kissed  this man after inviting him into their home under the pretense of helping her with a chore. Atticus is appointed to defend the Negro, and even though he knows he is fighting a losing battle, the truth comes out in court. In retaliation Ewell goes after the Finch children one night with intent to harm them and very likely kill them. The town recluse and resident "crazy", Boo Radley, comes on the scene and stabs Bob Ewell with a kitchen knife and kills him. Upon the sheriff discovering the body, he tells Atticus that, "Bob Ewell fell on his knife." As sheriff, it is his decision how to handle the situation. Atticus doesn't challenge the sheriff, and the story ends with no one knowing the act of Boo Radley and he is left to live out his reclusive days in peace. So... did Boo Radley murder Bob Ewell? Was it a cover-up? Read the book or see the movie or play and draw your own conclusions, but my feeling is NO! In my opinion Boo was more a hero or guardian angel for the Finch children that night. If he had not shown up when he did, most certainly Bob Ewell would have killed them.  If you've ever seen any of the old Lone Ranger TV shows, he always rode in on his horse, Silver, saved the day, and then disappeared into the dust of the West without praise or adulation, leaving all to question, "Who was that masked man?" Boo Radley was Maycomb County's Lone Ranger for one night when he was needed the most and then never to be seen or heard from again. "High Ho, Silver and away, Boo!"

21: Today it means more than Blackjack!

Today is a huge day in my little family of three's life. Today, my oldest daughter, my firstborn turns 21. Yes, I know legally she has been an adult since age 18, but there was still some uncharted territory that she could not enter into legally, mainly consuming alcohol. Now, this is not going to be a post about the evils of demon rum, and I know that nothing was keeping her from imbibing before this day if she had wanted to at one of her college parties, but now that last little barrier is down, and LEGALLY, she can do anything she wants. She's not a kid anymore, and where the hell have 21 years gone? In my house, we are BIG Gilmore Girls fans! There is a character on the show, Lane Kim, the best friend of Rory Gilmore. Lane's mother is extremely strict! No rock music, no make-up, no dancing...you get the picture. Lane is a rebel, and lives a double life hiding contraband under the floorboards in her room, employing all kinds of schemes to date a boy she thinks will not gain her mother's approval until finally her secret life is revealed, and she moves out to live her life the way she wants. However when she finally ends up in a serious relationship and things are progressing the way most relationships do, she announces to her boyfriend, much to his shock and disappointment, that they have to be married. Later on she meets her mother on the street, and angrily she says to her, "You're in my head!" My little girl isn't a little girl anymore. She's away at college living her own life, and I am not there with that watchful eye to say, "No you can't do that!" or "As long as you're under my roof..." All I can hope is that "I'm in her head," and when she is faced with decisions big or small, she will think of all the conversations we've had, and the arguments and the advice I've given, yes, even sometimes unsolicited, and she will make the right choices. She will always be my little girl, but my role has changed. The raising part is done. She is on her own in the world. Ironic that we, as parents, spend all of our lives preparing them for this moment, and when it comes, all we want to do is hold on. Happy Birthday, sweet girl! I love you enough to let you go!

Everybody Gets a Trophy!

Recently I took time off work to attend what I thought was a school ceremony, at least I had the picture in my mind of what ceremonies were like when I was in high school. The function I attended was about as far from ceremony as you could get. My daughter was being inducted into an honor society. Coincidentally it was the same one I was inducted into in my high school days. When I was inducted or "tapped" as they called it then, it was a HUGE deal. It was coveted by those who didn't achieve it, and something to feel proud and honored by if it was achieved. The entire school attended the tapping ceremony, and the student who was being tapped had no idea until a fellow student, usually someone they had a bond with in the organization would come up behind the student and place their hands on their shoulders. You would then join the others to wait until all were tapped, and then you held a candle and took the pledge of the organization you had just been tapped into. Later, you and your parents, who had secretly been informed so they could attend to see this special moment in your high school career, were guests at a reception held in honor of all the inductees. It was an event that meant something, and being tapped into the organization meant not only academic scholarship, but leadership and character as well. You didn't just have to achieve a certain grade point average, and BOOM, you were in. I know this because I achieved the grade point average required in my Junior year, but I was not tapped until my senior year, something I was gravely disappointed about. What I attended last week could be likened to a cattle call audition. If you don't know what that is, anyone and everyone shows up for an audition and you are shuffled through as fast as humanly possible. The "ceremony", and I use the term loosely, lasted 20 minutes, TOPS! Very few parents were in attendance, only the students being inducted were there. No other part of the student body witnessed, as they had in my day, the induction. Some brief opening remarks were made by the sponsor. The officers were introduced. They read the definitions of the attributes required with about as much enthusiasm as if they were reading the phonebook. The president had all the students stand,  raise their right hand and repeat the pledge, and then all of the students names were read  so fast it made my head spin, as they crossed the stage to receive their pin. Closing remarks were briefly made by one of the school officials, and then we were released to the reception. Before you get excited and think the drive-thru ceremony was salvaged by the reception, let me describe it to you. A table was set up pushed against the wall in the commons area, and it was impossible to get to as the 3rd wave of the student body was also eating lunch at the time. There was cake and punch, and because of the crowd, it took my daughter a good 5 minutes just to get a cup of punch, which she then took back to her lunch table to eat with her friends. I gave her a hug, told her I was proud of her and left. My entire drive to work, I got more and more upset and disillusioned. There was nothing special about what I had just attended. No student felt honored or set apart. Truthfully, for all the decorum and pomp the ceremony possessed, someone could have called all the students into the auditorium, and threw the pins from a basket to the crowd much like someone throws candy from a float to the spectators watching a parade. I discussed things with my daughter later, and she told me that to get in, all you had to do was achieve the grade point average required, and pay your dues, and you were in. We actually knew about this at the end of last year. She brought a form letter home in her backpack that said she had been invited to participate, and when her dues needed to be paid to be in the organization. She didn't regard it as an honor, or something to be revered, or anything special. Why? because no one treated it as such. Why has it become taboo to set individuals apart? To make someone feel special? At the end of last year, my daughter received an honor in her choir that was voted on by her peers. As a proud parent, I posted on Facebook the honor she received only to receive a comment that felt it was not right to set an individual apart as "the best" Why? If they are the best at what they do, why not tell them? Why not give students an example to follow, a goal to strive for? Wouldn't that make them work harder, achieve more? I read an editorial several months ago that was written by a father. His son was young and had played in a basketball league. For lack of a better way to put it, he was terrible! At the end of the season a banquet was held. The son was given a trophy for participating. As the father and son walked to their car after the banquet was over, the son asked the father what the trophy was for. The father answered that it was for participation to which the son replied, "That's stupid." When they arrived home, he threw the trophy into the closet, and it was never seen again. Pretty smart kid, if you ask me. In an effort to make everyone feel "special" we have made no one feel special. Rather than positive results from sending the message that everybody wins, we have created apathy, and instilled a lack of drive and ambition. We have indeed told America's youth that to succeed in life, all you have to do is show up. Nothing could be farther from the truth, and we have done them a disservice by leaving them completely unprepared for rejection and failure. If you're even close to my age, 50 in a few short weeks, raise your hand if you've never experienced rejection or failure. I'm relatively sure NONE of you can make that claim. What ever happened to learning from our mistakes, trying that much harder when we lose, because the next time we want to win, looking at someone who is the best, and setting our sites to be just like him or her? I read a quote today in an article, and it sums it up best, "When EVERYONE gets a trophy, no one wins!"

Lost Connection

It's been 12 years. Sitting in my office this morning and reading Facebook posts about 9/11, I was trying to think of what kind of post to write. I didn't want to repeat myself, so I searched my own blog for previous posts I had written on the subject. I started to just share a previous post I had written in 2010 because I thought it pretty much summed up the way I feel, but just as I was about to hit the share button on Facebook, I stopped, not because the feelings I wrote about then don't still ring true for me, they do, but the picture I paint of America in that post isn't quite the same. My status update today asks the question, "Where were you?" But digging deeper, how did you feel then, and how do you feel now? 12 years ago, technologically, we were in a very different world. We listened to those reports of the attacks on a radio, or watched a TV set if we happened to be near one. If we were separated from our loved ones, we could not physically see them unless we drove to where they were. Yes, cell phones existed, but you could not call someone and see their face and talk to them on the phone. You could not shoot off a quick text of "You ok?" in between classes or coming out of a meeting at work. Today, we can communicate with each other instantly, and even if you couldn't get a call through, everyone would tweet or post, "I'm ok. Sending out prayers and love to all who have lost someone."  and the world would know just what was going on in our life at that moment. But for all of our advances in connectivity since September 11, 2001, we seem to have lost our connection. As is often the case when a tragedy of that magnitude strikes, everyone is united by their grief, their shock, their anger, their pain. We all come together. Together. I have to say, sadly, if someone asked me, today,  to name a word that describes America, together would not spring to mind. In fact, it may not be on the list at all. A friend shared something his mother used to say to him when he and his sister were getting along well, describing themselves as "Buddies to the end." To which his mother would reply, "And the end's not far away." I liken America to that. 12 years ago, we all stepped up. We thought of others before ourselves. We worked together for what was best for all. Now, we have become a people divided, caring only about being right and never admitting when we're wrong. Together isn't even in our vocabulary. It's my way or no way! Now, this seems like a pretty depressing post, but it was not my intention as I began to write this to depress anyone, more so to inspire. Do not wait for another tragedy to affect this country to come together, reach out, put someone's needs before your own. Build each other up! Don't tear each other down, and that includes celebrities! It all starts with one spark, and then another, and another, and another until there is a consuming fire of forgiveness, passion, and kindness. Be that spark! Start that fire!

The First of the Lasts

I have decided to write this blog post today because I can cry at home without attracting too much attention. Just kidding! Not really. I have already started, and I'm only 5 sentences in. Tomorrow, September 3, 2013, my youngest, my baby, will begin her senior year in high school. For this household, it will be our last ever first day of school. I cannot believe that I have watched her do this for 13 years already. I can still remember exactly what she was wearing her first day of Kindergarten, a little jeans jumper and a striped purple shirt, and no I didn't have to search through pictures to recall. She had a little bob haircut, a style in later years she told me she disliked greatly. That wouldn't be the last opinion she would share through her school years as she definitely speaks her mind. :) I walked her and her sister down to the bus top and cried just like I am now, and I am sure there will be many tears shed this year as I watch this beautiful young woman experience all the things that have to do with your final year in school knowing it's the last bit of childhood I have to hold onto. If you read this blog at all or if you know me personally, you know that our life has been a struggle. She has grown up without a father as a daily presence in her life as her father and I separated when she was 2. Some would say, "Well that's all she has ever known, so it probably wasn't that bad," and that argument has valid points. How can you miss what you never had? But on the other hand, you don't even have the memories of what it is to be daddy's little girl. Thank God for my father as he took over that role for both of my girls but especially my youngest. They shared lots of time together as we lived with my parents for her preschool years and beyond. Her older sister was already in school so that made for lots of quality time spent with my dad as he was retired and her primary caregiver for most of the day. If you asked her she would say that I have been all she has ever needed, but it's really the other way around. My children were my saviors. I pulled myself up because of them. That little girl in the jeans jumper has lifted my spirits more than she will ever know with her wisdom far beyond her years. Her depth of compassion is staggering! I know that tomorrow will carry with it bittersweet feelings as we experience the first of many lasts this year together. Bitter, well for obvious reasons as I have already gone through three tissues typing this and sweet because I am so proud of the young woman she has become. I know every parent says that about their kid, but for this one, there's something more, something none of us will ever know. Every person she comes in contact with will be touched in some way by her humor, her compassion, her honesty, and it will change them. I know she has changed me, and at the risk of her reading this, and saying, "Mom, that's so cheesy!" I will close with these lyrics: Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
                                                        But because I knew you,
                                                        I have been changed for good.
Go change the world, sweet girl! I love you!

Someone Else's Skin

I can't remember the very first time I saw the film, To Kill a Mockingbird. I believe it was somewhere around my early 20's. I will turn 50 this October, and in the last 30 years I have probably watched it at least 5 times. I loved the film, and was even set to name my second child Atticus, but God gave me a girl. Seeing the film almost 30 years ago you would think that at sometime I would have read Harper Lee's novel that the book was based on. I am ashamed to say that I had not, until now. Back in July, I was cast in a local production of To Kill a Mockingbird. In some of our very early rehearsals, the director suggested that we read the novel to get a real feel of the background of the fictional town of Maycomb, Alabama, the setting for Lee's story. So, 2 weeks ago, I trotted into Barnes and Noble and bought the novel. Now, I am not much of a reader. It's not that I don't enjoy reading, I've just always been a child of television and movies. It was like pulling eye teeth to get me to do any of reading in high school. I became the master of skimming to get the general idea. In fact, I became so good at it, that I once received an A+ on a critical analysis I turned in on D. H. Lawrence's Sons and Lovers, a book I never read, but only skimmed with this comment, "This is one of the best critical analyses I have ever read on this book!" Go figure. So...I got lazy and coasted most of the time when it came to required reading. This time was different. I was really reading this book for research for a part on the stage, my true passion. I am so glad that I did. I finished it today, exactly two weeks after I started it. I cried several times. I laughed, and I thought....a lot! This book was written in 1960, 3 years before I was born. It's setting takes place in 1935, but the themes are just as relevant today, maybe even more so. Many people think this book is about race, black and white, and how we treat each other, and to some degree it is, but it's so much more. Atticus, after finding that his daughter, Scout, has had some trouble with her teacher at school tells her, "If you can learn a simple trick, Scout, you'll get along a lot better with all kinds of folks. You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view...until you climb into his skin and walk around in it." I don't know about you, but I think that one simple trick, as Atticus puts it, is the answer to world peace. I can't say that I always do that as I encounter people each day. I'm surprised, considering I must have heard my grandmother say a million times that we should follow the golden rule. If you don't know what that is, I'll enlighten you, "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." As I read this beloved story, Harper Lee put me in someone else's skin several times, the falsely accused Tom Robinson, the physically abused Mayella Ewell, the neglected Dill Harris, the poverty stricken Cunninghams, the courageous addict, Mrs. Dubose,  and of course, the reclusive Boo Radley. As I "walked around" in their skin, I learned a thing or two about myself, and hopefully next time a situation arises,  I won't be so quick to pass judgement or assume the worst about someone, and maybe, just maybe, they might extend me the same courtesy.

Give Us Dirty Laundry

One of my friends on Facebook shared a photo last night. I looked at the photo, read the name, but didn't recognize it, and scrolled on to play my next level of "Candy Crush" Then this morning, another friend of mine posted this status, Maybe one day a person who saves countless children's lives will get as much attention and recognition as a person who takes them. Why is the media negative? Because that's what we tell them we want. It made me think of the Don Henley song, "Dirty Laundry" 


We got the bubble-headed bleached blond comes on at 5,
She can tell you 'bout the plane crash with a gleam in her eye,
It's interesting when people die,
Give us dirty laundry.
We have become a society who crave tragedy! We relish in celebrities woes! We want that dirty laundry! Now, before people get offended, I am not pointing fingers at anyone in particular, and when I say "we", I am not actually accusing anyone who reads this of being a ravenous wolf salivating at the prospect of seeing death, destruction and mayhem. I am merely making an observation. Case in point: Let's go back to the picture I mentioned above. The photo shared was that of Antoinette Tuff. For those of you who do not know who that is, she is the bookkeeper, yes, you read that right, the bookkeeper who talked an armed gunman into surrendering his weapons at an Atlanta Elementary school yesterday. The result? Over 800 students, an undisclosed number of staff, police officers on the scene, and even the shooter walked away from the scene without a scratch! I had to do a google search for "Georgia Elementary School" to find her name and the story. Of the 14 hits that came up on the first page, only 2 talk about Antoinette. The others are about the gunman, the AK47, and the shots fired. I saw nothing on Facebook when this was unfolding except one mention of a gunman at a Georgia Elementary School, and then nothing else until my friend shared Antoinette's photo last night. I have two local news station that come up in my news feed. Obviously, once it was over, and no one was hurt, I'm guessing, the story didn't make the cut for the teaser to go to the news station's website or watch the evening's broadcast. No, Antoinette's heroism and bravery were trumped by the three psychopath assholes who killed a jogger because they were bored. We read of the stories of the gladiators fighting to the death and feeding people to live animals while 1000's cheered, and we think it disgusting and vile and uncivilized, but is today's media frenzy obsessed with death and destruction really that different? And if we stopped watching, and turned it off, and stopped sharing it through social media, wouldn't they stop? I caught myself today. The story of the jogger killed came up on my news feed, and I got ready to share it on my timeline with my proclamation of my shock and disgust, and I stopped myself. I'm going to try very hard from this day forward to share good news. Does that mean I won't speak out against injustice? NO! But it does mean that I will stop and think before I hit that share button what and why I'm actually sharing. 

The Man Who Made the Shower Curtain Terrifying

Today is Alfred Hitchcock's birthday. I was never a big  fan growing up, and to this day, I still have never seen Psycho. It wasn't that I didn't like Hitchcock films. I just never gave them a chance because I was a big chicken. Then, in my late 20's, I was working for Time-Life. They had just broken into selling video and music series in addition to book series. Every year they held a big sale of all the current offerings at low, low prices for their employees. Books for $1. Videos for $5 and CD's for $3. I purchased a copy of a film called Notorious. It starred Ingrid Bergman and Cary Grant, two of my favorite stars from that era. I didn't really pay attention to the fact that it was a Hitchcock film. I popped it into the VCR and watched it for the first time. It was released in 1946 and centers around the espionage and intrigue of World War II and the Nazis. It's really a mystery and suspense movie, not a scary movie, which is why I liked it so much. I had always thought all of Hitchcock's films were like Psycho and The Birds. Those genres were not to my liking, but with this new discovery of Hitchcock's mystery genre, I went in search of other titles. Thus began my pilgrimage to the master of suspense. In those days you could not get your movies streaming on your laptop, in fact there were no laptops. You had to go to the Blockbuster Video, yes video; not DVD, store and rent them. I started with  Rope, then Spellbound,  Strangers on a Train, Vertigo, The Man Who Knew Too Much, Rebecca, Dial M for Murder and my all time favorite, Rear Window. 

A few years back Hollywood tried to recreate this movie magic with a film called Disturbia. They failed. Hitchcock has a definite style. It's very slow and methodical. Nothing big and flashy. The best turn in this clip is the slow take that Raymond Burr takes directly into the camera, and you know. That was Hitchcock, drawing you in with every take. The top grosser of all time is of course, Psycho. As I said, I've never seen it, and I doubt I ever will. Of course, I'm sure it doesn't touch some of the things that I've seen on Criminal Minds or Supernatural, but I still don't want to see it. Without it, I still look behind the shower curtain every time I go in a bathroom where it is drawn. I don't need anything else to fuel my fire of fear and paranoia. The fact that I am not alone in that fear , I'm sure, is pleasing to Mr. Hitchcock, wherever he is. He made us look at every flock of birds in a different way. He made us wonder about the stranger next to us, and he made us hold our breath hoping someone would arrive to save our hero or heroine. Thank you for making our hearts beat a little faster in the dark!

Phoenix Rising

Recently I had the opportunity to meet a wonderful young man. I had the privilege of watching him perform. He had it all, the quintessential triple threat. He could sing. He could dance, and he could act. Often times when one is so talented, especially at a young age, they are less than humble. Not the case with this young man, he was humble and polite, and he had a genuineness about him. I liked him immediately, and that is not usually the case with me. When watching someone like that, I think we tend to believe that they must have a great life, look at how happy and full of joy they seem. I was amazed to find that this young man had not had such a perfect life, and had dealt with his share of adversity. Yet, here he was, this example of everything life had to offer. It made me stop and look at my own life and the lives of my girls. If you would ask most of the people who have crossed my path whether briefly or for a lifetime, most would say that I am a very upbeat person. I have a positive attitude. I smile A LOT, and I am known for my hearty laugh. No one would guess that my life has been dotted, from infancy almost, with the consuming fire of challenge and tragedy. Now, before I even continue, let me say that this is not a blog about gaining pity or sympathy from anyone. My first brush with adversity, admitting that I cannot remember, came when I was 6 months old. I clinically died having stopped breathing from a serious bout with pneumonia. That was in 1963, and no parents took courses in infant CPR. My father did the only thing he could think of to get me to start breathing. He held me upside down by my feet and struck me on the back, and I began to breathe. First fire extinguished. I rose out of those ashes and started into childhood, a great one, and then at the age of 11, I was in a terrible car accident and the back passenger side window exploded in my face resulting in over 100 stitches in my forehead, nose and right eyelid. Oh, did I mention all I ever wanted to be was an actress, and entertainer? This second fire would be a little harder to overcome. It would bring years of surgeries and teasing, but I continued to rise above the challenges and endure the pain of surgery all the while still auditioning every chance I got. I continued to get work, even landing a modeling job for a newspaper print ad at the age of 20, just 9 years after the accident. In 1991, I lost my first child to miscarriage. I was devastated by this fire, but still came through and went on to have two beautiful children. And finally in 1998 I would face the worst fire of all. My marriage of 15 years to my high school sweetheart and the love of my life ended when he walked out after months of having an affair leaving me with nothing. Surely this would be the fire that would consume me totally. There was no way of rising out of these ashes, but I did. It really is true. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. I was determined not to let this last fire leave me in nothing but burned memories and broken pieces. I had two little girls to raise. Two little girls, now 17 and 20, who have become a phoenix in their own lives and like the young man that I met, have grown into bright and talented young women with every opportunity the world has to offer despite the fire that began their lives. If you are reading this and you are walking through your own fire right now, know that you can get through it, and you, like all of us, will rise out of the ashes a beautiful bird ready to soar.

Cut, Print, Moving on

Yesterday was an anniversary of mine that I did not realize until I got on Facebook in the afternoon. 15 years ago on July 30th, 1998, principal photography was completed on an independent feature film called "When Love Walks In". Why is that important to me, you ask? Because I was in that feature film. I can't believe for as long as I've had this blog that I've never written about this experience before. It all began, for me, in the summer of 1997. I was doing a production of "City of Angels" at Dogwood Dell, an amphitheater here in Richmond. I met a new actress in the cast named Katie, and we became friends. She was just getting in on the beginnings of an independent feature film with a friend she had worked with in the past. He was writing and producing the film, and his brother was directing. They were still looking for an actress to play the role of her mother, and Katie asked if I was interested, and so it began. After several meetings with producer and casting and re-casting the roles in the film, because of conflicts, we finally began shooting in the Spring of 1998. This was bare bones  film making at its finest. Kent Williamson, the producer/writer, had a full time job, and so did most of the crew and actors in the film, so we were shooting on vacation time, two weeks in the early spring, and then two weeks in the middle of July. It was definitely a family affair. The shoot was in Kent's hometown of Charlottesville, VA, just about an hour's drive from me, so housing was provided for me, and by housing, I mean I stayed in the spare bedroom of Kent's family home. Kent's mother and wife were craft services. In film and television production that is who provides your food while on set. We were fed VERY well. :) My costumes were all my own clothes coordinated with a costumer, and I did my own hair and make-up. Now, it may sound like I'm trying to paint a drab picture. I'm not! I just want you to get the Hollywood version of filming with star trailers and make-up chairs and wardrobe rooms, out of your head. Prior to filming, the cast had met for some read-thrus and discussion, so I had been to the Williamson house before, and when it came time to make the trip, I knew the drive well. I drove up the night before because shooting was supposed to begin very early the following day. Before embarking on this journey, the only experience I had had in film was standing in the background on my high school campus while a local show shot a promo. Saying I was nervous would be an extreme understatement. I rose early and went to the "set", a house of a friend of Kent's who agreed to let us use it for filming the exteriors and interiors of my character, Nora Machiavelli's house. At the time of filming I was 34 years old. I had spent the last 24 years as a stage actress. That may not mean a lot to most of you, but ask the crew what it meant to them the first day of shooting. The scene we were filming was one where Nora's ring had gotten caught on the garbage disposal blades as she was trying to unclog it. They set up the shot, a much longer process than I ever imagined, and we were doing our first take. I knew my lines, and I began. The crew was outside shooting through the kitchen window with sound and the boom (the big microphone they hold over the actor's heads) operator was inside the kitchen with me. It was just me, and all my lines were spoken into the phone as I was supposed to be talking to my daughter. "Cut!" the director yelled. Brad Williamson, Kent's brother was the director. Brad came over to me. "That was really great, but we need you to be a little quieter in the next take." Being on the stage, I was used to PROJECTING, not thinking about the fact that there's a very powerful microphone just over my head. Take 2. "Cut!" "That was really good, but you keep moving out of the shot." Again, my stage training had groomed me to be bigger than life, and we were shooting real life. When you watch a television show or a movie, you don't think about how small the space is the actors are working in. My space for this particular scene was as big as the window. We finally got the "garbage disposal" scene shot, and we were moving on. The afternoon we were shooting me forging my daughter's signature on a letter. Just a shot of my hands signing her name, Annelise Machiavelli. 17 takes. Don't ask! I spent most of my first night in that spare bedroom rethinking what I'd dreamed of being since I was 3, a movie star. This is not at all what I thought it would be. I don't like this, and worse yet, I'm bad at it. If you knew me, you'd know how much that last phrase was devastating to me, but I stuck with it, and thanks to the EXTREME patience of the director and crew, by the end of the Spring shoot, I had learned how to act for the camera, and better yet I learned to appreciate the differences from stage acting. You can't be subtle on the stage. You can't whisper. No one can see a tear rolling down your cheek. The spring shoot wrapped, and I would put "When Love Walks In" out of my mind until summer.
The shooting schedule was to begin in mid July. I was walking into the summer shoot a whole different person, emotionally and physically. I had lost about 50 lbs. The cause for the weight loss was also the cause for my emotional change. 2 weeks prior to shooting, I had come home from a trip to an empty house, and my husband of 15 years was gone, leaving me and our two small children with nothing. A lot of people in my life at the time could not believe that I was going to finish shooting the film. Well, those people don't know me very well. First of all, I would have never done that to Kent and Brad and the crew. It costs a huge amount of money to film, and to have to scrap all of my footage from the spring and recast would have been a huge setback to the production. Secondly, when I start something, I finish it. I wasn't walking out. Writing this just now, I realize the cruel irony in that. If you've heard anything about filming, you probably know that scenes are not shot chronologically. I'm pretty sure that at least one part of a scene we shot at dinner in the living room was the heavier me, and when I walk into the kitchen that in reality is supposed to be a split second later, I am 50 lbs. lighter. Needless to say, there was a lot of Spring footage of me that ended up on the cutting room floor. It is, however, preserved on the DVD as deleted scenes. The summer shoot meant more to me than I can tell you. As an actor many times you use tragedy in your life to fuel your performance. I had a tanker full. I was surrounded by supporting, loving people, and let's face it, it was a distraction from the reeling hell my life had just turned into. Thank you, Kent and Brad and Karen and all the crew for saving me that summer and letting me laugh and cry.
Fast forward to 2005. When actors make a film of any type, often times they never see their work, and certainly not immediately, unless they watch something called "dailies" where they see the raw footage shot during the day. I had never seen anything but a trailer that had been put together from different clips of the film. Because this was an independent film, shot and financed, post production took 7 years. I had never seen the finished product. Imagine my shock when Kent called me and told me that the film had been submitted to the Bare Bones International Independent Film Festival in Oklahoma and had received several nominations, including one for me for Best Actress in a Feature Film. This was an amazing moment for me. I decided, no matter what, I was going to that festival. I ended up winning, and in my acceptance speech I said that as actors we say it's about the love of what we do, and it is, but is sure is nice when someone recognizes the hard work you put into something and honors you for it. That summer of '98 brought a lot of things into my life, mostly bad, but filming When Love Walks In with Paladin Pictures, Kent's production company, was a bright spot that brought me more than I could have ever asked for in knowledge and experience, but mostly in making that 3 year old little girl's dream a reality.

"The consequences of an act affect the probability of it's occurring again." ~ B. F. Skinner

I received an email the other day from a longtime friend who regularly reads my blog posts. She said in the email that she was surprised that she had not seen a post from me about the Zimmerman verdict. When the verdict was released, I thought about writing a post. It would have been a knee-jerk reaction post. I remember how shocked I was almost 18 months ago when this actually happened. I changed my profile picture on Facebook to Trayvon's picture to bring awareness and in memoriam for a young life lost senselessly on February 26, 2012. I remember the news items that came out after the shooting, and I was amazed that George Zimmerman was not arrested and charged. As is the case with most stories like this, the media grabs on and will not let go, and most of what we see and hear is exactly what the media wants us to see and hear. They try to shape our opinions and form our thoughts, and most of the time, albeit probably subconsciously, we let them. How many of us really try to read the details of exactly what happens? How many of us make a snap judgement because of a sensational headline we read on our newsfeed or a 15 second sound byte from a reporter on television? Do we really delve into the facts of the case? Originally George Zimmerman was released for lack of evidence. Then the media stirred the racism pot, and 6 weeks later he was arrested for murder. Was George Zimmerman a racist? I don't know. Did he go out that night with the intention of finding a young black man to kill him? I don't know. What do I know? George Zimmerman shot and killed Trayvon Martin. What I don't know is exactly what happened that led to that event. Only two people know that, and one of them is dead. From reading the accounts of what happened that night and listening to the 911 calls, this is what I think. George Zimmerman acted irresponsibly out of fear and frustration and a little bit of power gone to his head, no pun intended. There had been break-ins in Zimmerman's gated community, and because of this the neighborhood thought it would be a good idea to form a neighborhood watch group. Sounds reasonable, right? George Zimmerman was elected by his neighbor's to be the coordinator of the program. On the night of the shooting Zimmerman was not on patrol. He was actually running an errand and saw Trayvon and felt he was suspicious looking. He called the NON-emergency Police number and reported his observations. While on the phone with the dispatcher, he says that the man is running. When asked if he is following him, Zimmerman replies yes, and the dispatcher says "we don't need you to do that." Zimmerman answers with "okay" The call ended at 7:15PM. By 7:17PM, Police arrived on the scene and Trayvon had already been shot. What happened in those 2 minutes? Zimmerman says Trayvon confronted him, and after an altercation he shot Trayvon in self defense. Eyewitnesses do say they saw the "fight", but no one seems to give an account of what started the fight. There is testimony of Trayvon making a call to a friend expressing concern over someone following him. Apparently, the friend tells him to run to where he is staying. The "running" is what seemed to start the wheels in motion for Zimmerman. Zimmerman also gave a statement that Trayvon had circled his car, and that he had put the window up to avoid confrontation. If that was the case, why did he get out of the car to chase Trayvon while he was running? Why didn't he just stay in his car and wait for police? Here's what I think happened: George Zimmerman was extremely frustrated about the state of his neighborhood. In the span of a little over a year, police had been called to the gated community 402 times, that averages out to more than once a day. The neighbors are concerned and more than that, they are afraid. They want to feel safe, and so they decide to elect George Zimmerman to coordinate a Neighborhood watch program. My guess would be that Zimmerman took this job seriously, maybe a little too seriously. I think that night that he was running his errand in the rain, and saw someone he didn't know in his neighborhood, he decided to be the hero. I'll catch this one, he's thinking, and so he follows him, observing his "suspicious" behavior. Did he follow him because he was black? No, I don't think so. It was dark and raining, I doubt he could even tell his race from the car. From Trayvon's perspective, he's walking home in the rain from a convenience store in a neighborhood where he is a guest, not familiar to the locals. Testimony was given that he was on his phone with a friend and that he noticed that this "creepy ass cracker" was following him. She told him to run to the townhouse where he was staying. I don't know about you, but if I were a 17 year old boy and a grown man was following me in a car, I would run too. Unfortunately, that's all Zimmerman needed to assume Trayvon was guilty of something, and he was going to do his duty, and get this "asshole that always gets away" Even though he was told not to pursue him, Zimmerman did, and he had a gun. When the two came face to face, I'm sure they did fight. If I were Trayvon, I would try to beat up some creepy guy who had been following me, and now was right in front of me. Zimmerman had no legal authority to do anything to Trayvon, but report what he thought was going on, and let the police handle it. That was the problem. He made a choice to take on the role of cop for a day, and then things got terribly out of hand. He put himself in a situation he was not trained to handle, and he ended up shooting and killing a 17 year old boy that was a visitor to his community. Welcome to the neighborhood.
I am not a legal expert. I was not in the courtroom to listen to the trial each day, and I do not know the intricacies of Florida law. Do I think the jury was wrong? No. What we seem to forget is one tiny little phrase, "beyond a reasonable doubt" If I was on the jury, would I have voted guilty? I don't know because I wasn't there. I didn't hear what they heard. I didn't see what they saw, and that's just the point. I've never even served on a jury for a traffic ticket, let alone a high profile murder case like this one. I cannot imagine the responsibility! I keep thinking of the movie 12 Angry Men. If you haven't seen it, rent it, and watch it. It will change the way you feel about the justice system and juries in general.
Do I think George Zimmerman shot Trayvon because he was afraid for his life? Yes, I do, but I still think he should have been held accountable for taking another life because he set all the wheels in motion that put him in that situation of feeling like he had to use "lethal force" to protect himself. To me it's like someone picking a fight with me, and then because I'm kicking their ass, they shoot me. Not really a fair fight, is it? Trayvon was not committing a crime. He did not deserve to die because an over zealous guy with a gun thought he was up to no good. We know he shot Trayvon, we have the weapon he used. His actions led to the altercation which led to a death. How can we say he is not responsible? How does he not suffer any consequences? A lawyer friend of mine said it best, "If he broke the law, he should be punished. If he didn't, they [Florida] need better laws."

Don't It Make My Brown Eyes Blue

When I was in 5th grade in the Henrico county school system, we had two high school students come and visit our classroom once a week to "teach" us something. At least that was their goal. We never thought of it as a lesson, though. To us, it was an hour a week where we got to hang out with High School kids, and that was cool. The organization the students belonged to was called S.O.D. A. ( Student Organization for Developing Attitudes) I knew from that moment on when I got to High School, I wanted to participate in that organization, and I did. My junior and senior year of high school I was on a SODA team that went to elementary schools, specifically 5th grade classes to "teach" When you become part of SODA, you are given   reference material that has several examples of lessons to use with your class. Most are activities that all have underlying themes to teach the right attitudes toward ourselves and others. One of the ones I remember was "Warm Fuzzies/Cold Pricklies" My partner and I made little fuzzy characters with google eyes and had a bag of the prickly "gumballs" that fall from trees. Each student was given 1 of each, and asked to describe what holding each one felt like. Then we would talk about our words and how they can be just like warm fuzzies or cold pricklies, and how we should speak to each other with kindness. You get the idea. We had a lesson like that one each week through the whole school year. By far, the most powerful lesson we ever did, was the Brown Eyes/Blue Eyes lesson. My partner and I came into the classroom as we had done each week, and without any explanation, we asked all the children with Brown eyes to raise their hands. My partner then asked them to line up at the door, and he took them outside. The blue eyed group stayed in with me. In a fairly stern voice, I told them all to take out a piece of paper. Questions were asked where the other group was going. I told them they were going outside to play. When questioned further about why they couldn't go, I told them it was because they had blue eyes. They had to stay in and do work. Harsh warnings of "NO TALKING!" were given. The Blue eyes were treated less than nice. Both my partner and I were active in our school's theatre department, so we played it to the hilt. After 20 minutes or so, we reversed the groups and they were given the same treatment. The children came back in and then we all discussed how they felt when they were the group being kept inside. No one said they liked the way they were treated. I'm sure you have figured out that this was a lesson on discrimination. That was back in 1981, a time that was past the civil rights movement and huge strides had been made, but it was still a powerful lesson about being treated differently for being different. There is a video floating around Facebook right now of a classroom teacher, Jane Elliott, who created and did this exact experiment with her third graders ( all white) back in the 1960's in response to the assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr.

I watched it today. There are parts that actually made me cry as you see the looks on the faces of the students who are being discriminated against. I did not know that the SODA lesson I was teaching 20 years later actually began when I was a child myself. I'm sure these children's lives were changed after what Miss Elliott taught them or better yet let them see, firsthand, what it was like to be treated as a lesser person, to be called stupid or slow just because you were different. Some groundbreaking events are happening this week that deal with exactly this issue. We should all be ashamed of ourselves that the highest court in the land needed to tell us the simple truth that Miss Elliott tried to teach her third graders in 1964 and I tried to teach my SODA students in 1981, that we should all be treated the same, equally, no matter what our differences are. What color are your eyes?

Just a Day

Father's Day ended 15 minutes ago. This day has been just another day for me for several years now since my sweet daddy died. My children are not really involved in their father's life, so this day comes and goes without much to do, but because my sister posted a wonderful status about my dad, I have been thinking about him for the past hour. I probably didn't say it near enough when he was alive, but Thank you, Daddy! And yes, he was my "Daddy" I called him Dad occasionally, and for a while we went through a "Pop" phase, but even as an adult I called him Daddy. Through my childhood and teen years he had his issues, but I never once doubted that he loved me, and would protect me. Eventhough he was  extremely non-confrontational, let someone say something bad or attack one of his girls or his wife, and WATCH OUT!!! He was always honest with me, even when  I didn't want to hear it. I knew I got that quality from somewhere. :) But for all the things he did for me through my life, and there were many, the thing I am most thankful for is the fact that he stepped into the role of father to my two daughters when their own father left when they were 2 and 5. For that I will forever be grateful that they got to feel that special bond between a daddy and his little girl, just like I did. You left us way too soon, Daddy, and you would be so proud of the amazing people that those two little girls ( now 17 and 20
) have become. I know that somewhere you can see them, and I know you are smiling and shedding tears of joy. I love you, Daddy! Happy Father's Day!

The Road Less Traveled

In December of 2009 I played Mrs. Fezziwig in Theatre IV's production of A Christmas Carol. As is often the case in musical theatre productions, I played multiple roles throughout the show. Mrs. Fezziwig was just my featured role. One of the smaller ensemble roles I got to play was that of an upper class mother walking with her little boy through the Dickensian streets of England in the opening number. That little boy was Robert Timberline, known to me then as "Cooper" His featured role was Tiny Tim in that production. I had seen Cooper's work in other shows, and I knew he was extremely talented, and not just "talented for his age" He had it! He was natural, which can be so rare for a child actor. I have been a child actor, and I have worked with several. Many try to trade on cute, going way over the top to the point of the audience member being lulled into a sugar coma. Or.. they've been told to ACT and that's what they do. Cooper didn't do any of that. Now, I will have to say, he was as cute as any 8 year old boy could be with his mischievous grin and dimples, but he wasn't relying on the cute factor. He wasn't flashing the smile expecting everyone to just fall head over heels. I don't have any other word for it. He was as natural as if he lived in those times. I remember giving him a ride from rehearsal one night, and as we rode up Broad Street we had quite a nice conversation. I told him how talented I thought he was. He was extremely humble when accepting my praise, and not false humility, genuine sincere appreciation for someone noticing his talent. That, my friends, is rare. I started acting professionally when I was 10, and it is very hard to keep an ego in check. To your peers, you are famous, for lack of a better word. You're doing something that most people would be scared to death to do, and, not only that, you are successful at it. Shortly after Christmas Carol, Coop, as I had taken to calling him, booked a gig with a touring company doing the Radio City Christmas Musical, and not long after that we, being the Richmond theatre community, got the word that he had landed a role in a film. You're thinking that by now this kid must be impossible to be around. Well, you'd be wrong! I ran into him at our local awards show this past fall, and he's still the same old "Coop" that played my little boy. There's a lot of hype surrounding Robert Timberline, as he prefers to be called now, because that "film" role he landed was young Clark Kent in one of the most anticipated films of the summer, Man of Steel, which opens this Friday. Not long ago I watched a video interview Robert did about his film experiences, and I was so impressed with how down to earth he was and just basically a normal kid. He's decided to pursue other things besides acting. Most people, me included, would kill to be in film and have those chances and experiences, but Robert knows what he wants and that's more than most adults can say. I admire him so much for having the thought and conviction to follow his dream and not give in to the pressure that "Hey, everybody wants to be a movie star, right?" mentality. What an amazing, grounded young man you are, Robert. I know you will be successful whatever path you choose even if it's different than the one everyone expected you to take.

The Best of Times

Last night I saw a production of "La Cage aux Folles" at Richmond Triangle Players. Go see it before it closes in June. You will not be disappointed! But this is not going to be a post/review about this production. Not to say that I didn't have a great time, I did! I laughed and cried a little, and even got the chance to sing along, but obviously this production affected me on a different level. I spent most of last evening dreaming I was in "La Cage", not the production, the world. I don't remember any specifics just that my everyday life was being spent with Georges, Albin and the Cagelles, and it felt real, and right and natural! When I woke up this morning it got me to thinking. What a wonderful world to live in! The show begins with several chorus "girls" (really men in drag) singing these words, "We are what we are" filled with the witty little lines of the hes becoming shes. It's a fun little number and a great way to start the show, but the same fun little number, later in the show, turns into a grand statement of pride and affirmation when Albin as his stage persona, Zaza, sings his true feelings when he realizes that his true love Georges and the son they raised together, Jean Michel, want to hide him away because of "what he is" It's an emotional moment because up until that hurtful realization Georges' and Albin's world has been free from that reproach and judgement. They have raised a son together as man and wife, married, committed and creating an environment loving their son and each other. Obviously, my subconscious longs to be in that judgement free world. RTP (Richmond Triangle Players) creates that world in their little theater on Altamont Avenue for anyone who walks through their doors. The audience last night was dotted with couples, gay and straight, old and young, men and women. An older male couple sat in front of me and several times during the show they reached over and touched each other with affection. It was so sweet, and later in the lobby when the show was over and the cast was mingling with the patrons, straight and gay alike, it felt like home. No one was casting condemning glances or making belittling comments. In our little world inside that theater we were in the world of "La Cage," and I liked that world. So thank you, RTP and the cast of "La Cage" for creating that world for me for a few hours on a Friday night, and thank you for all you do to extend that world past your doors!

Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God?

If I read one more article, or see one more video with some idiot who uses the identifier as Christian claiming that tragedies, whether they be perpetrated by man or naturally happen, are a judgement from God, I may explode!!!!!!! At the very least I am going to start my own faith that does not have the word Christian in it because these buffoons have ruined the world's view of what I think a Christian is and should live like and treat others. What has spurred this outburst from me, you may be thinking? Well, it has been building for a while. I guess if I wanted to be honest, probably since 9-11, but recently with the Sandy Hook Shootings, the Boston Bombing and now, the Oklahoma Tornado, it seems the crazies have really come out of the woodwork in full force! I have a strong faith! I believe in God! Anyone who knows me or has followed this blog knows that, so if anybody reads this and wants to call me out as a heathen and condemn me to Hell, COME AT ME!!! I am so sick, of mainstream Christian leaders mouthing off answers to questions that people write in and ask or call in and ask about these tragedies and what part God played in them and why? If I were a lawyer and this was a courtroom, as soon as the dolt would begin to answer, I would shout, "Objection! Calls for speculation!" How dare you presume to know the mind of God! And while I'm at it, SHUT UP!!!!!! Every syllable you utter makes me, as a Christian, embarrassed that a group I belong to has  leaders who would make such stupid statements! You are the Taliban equivalent in Christianity. No, I am not saying you cause death and destruction or cause physical harm, but you are radical and extremist and when people believe the drivel you say as God's own words you are harming them spiritually and emotionally. Is the world in a crappy state? YES! Is evil running rampant? YES! Do I think that makes God unhappy? YES! Do I think that he caused all of the above mentioned tragedies to make us get our act together? NO!!! I believe in God, as a parent. I believe He loves me and cares for my well being. I believe that He sends me comfort when I need it, and that when I do something wrong, He is disappointed, but do I believe that if I step out of line that He will punish and kill thousands of people until I "repent?" NO! If I've got it wrong, then I guess I'll be the one who's surprised at the world's end, but for now I will believe that my God is a God of love and forgiveness. Isn't that why he sent his own son to die? If he was just going to kill all  of us when we ticked him off, doesn't that negate the whole "Jesus" thing? Don't know about you, but it's pretty hard to repent if you're dead. I know I might sound blasphemous to some, but I am enraged at the attack on my faith. I am saddened that my faith is being thought of as a group of idiots and hate mongers. Who do you think you're winning over? Isn't that our job as Christians to spread the GOOD news? Just letting you know that you're turning people off. You're driving people away from God and his love! So while you're yelling at people to repent, try getting on your knees yourself to explain to God, oh I forgot, you know what he's thinking, so I'll rephrase....Send him some telepathic thoughts of explanation as to why you're scaring the sheep away from His flock rather than bringing them into the fold with love and care.

Something I Almost Missed

When I was a teenager I never did the babysitting thing. If people I knew had new babies I never wanted to hold them. I didn't work in the nursery at church or help with the little kids Sunday school classes. I just didn't have any desire to be around children. I really thought I would never have kids. It just wasn't my thing. In fact before I was married I considered taking care of things permanently to never have children. I didn't take that step, thank God! I waited a while after I was married, almost 10 years, but I did finally actually want a child. I'm not sure if I've ever shared this before here, but I lost my first baby to a miscarriage, but luckily I did get pregnant again and about 40 weeks later I had a little girl, then 3 1/2 years after that another little girl. The teenager who didn't want any children was now a woman in her early 30's with 2. In 1992 and then again in 1996 I became a mother. Then, as life does sometimes, I was thrown a curve ball, and in 1998 I became a single mother. This thing that I started out never wanting to do at all I was now doing alone. Today is Mother's Day. A day set aside to honor those who gave us life, but this post is about honoring those who gave me a life worth living. Being a parent is hard work. Don't ever let anyone tell you anything different. It is the most important job in the world because, in essence, you hold the future in your hands. The  people you create and bring into this world will watch and learn from you. They'll pattern their behaviors after what they've seen you do. They'll treat people the way you raise them to, and they'll value and love themselves only if you treat them as valued and loved. You never stop being a parent. It is a tireless job 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year, but I would not trade it for anything! I am not rich. I do not have a high paying corporate job. I do not have a beach house in Malibu. In fact I haven't taken a real vacation in almost 10 years. Some people would look at those statistics and pity how unsuccessful I am at 50, but they would be so wrong. I have something so much more than material success. I have raised two amazing daughters, daughters that I know will make their mark in the world! Hell, they already have by the way they treat people in their everyday lives and the impact they have had on everyone they come in contact with. They are my legacy. They are my success! I have poured everything I am into being the best Mom and Dad that I can be. Am I the perfect parent? No, I have made tons of mistakes along the way, but I try to admit them and move on. I could not ask for a better relationship with both of my girls. We talk. Nothing fancy or ground shaking here. We talk. I treat them like people, and have always been honest with them and valued their input and opinions on whatever level they could offer them. More times than I can count they were teaching me something rather than the other way around. And as they continue through life and maybe become mothers themselves one day I pray that they will have the same awesome experience they have given me. I will be forever grateful for the privilege and honor of being their Mom and thrilled that life didn't work out the way I had originally planned.

Johnny Mein

I am 1 of 4 grandchildren, 3 girls, 1 boy. We are like stair steps in age, and I am the baby. The step above me was my cousin John. We were only 6 months apart, and consequently, we were very close. He was the closest thing I had to a brother. He and his sister lived in a town called Seaford, VA just outside of Hampton, VA, so we didn't see each other every day, but we spent every holiday and at least a week in the summer when we were little at one of our houses. When we were elementary age, our visits were spent playing hide and seek, swimming in the pool at his house, making plastic bugs out of goop or sprinkling Nestle Quick on Vanilla Ice cream to create our own special treat. As we grew up to the middle school years and he would come to visit, We listened to the radio together waiting for our favorite songs so we could tape them on a cassette tape. At that time, John wanted to be a deejay, and he would take those cassette tapes and put in his own radio voice over. His radio persona was "Johnny Mein" (pronounced MINE) and I loved listening to those tapes. He had a great sense of humor, and we loved being crazy together. I'll never forget one summer we were listening to the radio, and in those days, the deejays would ask a trivia question for a prize. The question was, "Who played Jackie Robinson in the Jackie Robinson story?" John looked at me and said, "I'm gonna call and say, 'Jackie Robinson'" He meant it as a joke. To his shock the answer was right, and he won tickets to the movies. He loved sports and played just about all of them starting with the Pee Wee leagues right up into his high school days. Those days were when we grew the closest. Our favorite songs back then were "My Sharona" by The Knack, "Born to Run" by Bruce Springsteen (ironically I think John resembled Springsteen in his early days) and "Bad Case of Lovin' You" by Robert Palmer. We would belt them out in his navy blue '68 Mustang, and he would always yell, "1,2,3,4" just before we would both tear into "Doctor, Doctor, gimme the news..." He spent the week at the beach with my family more than once, and we were always partners for Password against my mom and dad. I don't remember whether we won or lost, but I do remember that we laughed...A LOT! He called me "Tree" My name is Terri and he was playing around one day, and pronounced it [tuh - ree] then said it quickly like that and it sounded like Tree. It stuck, and he called me that from then on. In the past several years we haven't really been in touch with each other. Life kind of got in the way. My sister called today to tell me that John died this morning from a heart attack. I was shocked.  He just turned 50 two weeks ago. I know he will be missed, especially by his 6 children. It made me think today how very precious time is, and we should never waste a day because we never know how many more we will have. Rest in Peace, cousin, and thanks for the memories!

Raise Your Hand

Something happened this week that may seem inconsequential to some. One Facebook status made their feelings very clear by stating they "didn't give a shit" And that's what Facebook is about sharing with the world how we feel. But this particular event, to me, was one of the best and most courageous things in a long time. I am speaking of Jason Collins, the NBA player who came out this week. Coming out is a brave step for anyone, but to come out in a profession that is pegged as a very heterosexual environment is paramount! How hard it must have been for him to deny himself with his teammates for all those years, to, as he put it, "act straight" I am straight, and I think it would be extremely difficult, if not impossible to live my life pretending to be gay, not because being gay is a bad thing, but because it goes against the nature of who I am. So what! He's gay! Big deal! It is a big deal to him, to his family, friends, teammates, and every kid who's on a basketball team right now who's afraid to tell anyone who he really is. But the real test is not in Jason's brave announcement, it will be in how we react to it. We are the ones who are tested right now! We are the ones who must support him and everyone like him. Former president Bill Clinton was quoted as saying, "It is ... the straightforward statement of a good man who wants no more than what so many of us seek: to be able to be who we are; to do our work; to build families and to contribute to our communities. For so many members of the LGBT community, these simple goals remain elusive. I hope that everyone, particularly Jason’s colleagues in the NBA, the media and his many fans extend to him their support and the respect he has earned." It seems so simple, doesn't it? Why can't people just be who they are? Why do we not allow that? Maybe it isn't a concern for most. How much of a concern would it be if you were being forced to deny yourself and live a life that was a lie? Jason said this. "I didn’t set out to be the first openly gay athlete playing in a major American team sport. But since I am, I’m happy to start the conversation. I wish I wasn’t the kid in the classroom raising his hand and saying, 'I’m different.' If I had my way, someone else would have already done this. Nobody has, which is why I’m raising my hand." So to me, Jason Collins, it is a big deal, and to millions of others! Thank you for raising your hand!