ST. NICK

this is the best christmas story i've encountered in years.

this nick is a 4th-grader, and was cast as the narrator in a little 5-page playlet about christopher columbus at the parkside school in sebastopol.

it was obvious from the first read-thru that nick was having trouble reading his heavy line load.  he was very very hesitant, so much so that i briefly considered giving such a strong vocal part to someone with better reading skills.  thank god i let that idea pass.

i sat next to nick in our reading circle for the next two fridays, the day i was a read-to-me volunteer at the school.  when he came to a word that he didn't know, he would stop.  so i started gently saying the word out loud, then nick would repeat it and move on, until the next stop about 7 words later.

so i asked ben to be his left shoulder guardian angel, and help him thru the tough words.

then i tiold nick to take his script home over the next two weeks, and read it aloud over and over, with a parent, or a brother or sister, or a friend.  

"that way, you will make the words your own."

he was surprised to learn that he COULD take it home.

"o yes! it's yours.  you can yellow-out your lines.  you can draw on it.  you can doodle on it.  it's your script.  please have fun."

so: this past friday, nick's class had its performance date, 11 am, ms. hall's classroom, about a dozen parents in attendance.  i was now as lame a duck director as our current president.  i was there to watch.

and what i saw filled me with awe, for here was nick: fluent! in character! smiling! practically off-book! and most important: he was beaming.

i went up to shake his hand after the show, and i quite honestly said to him "that was one of the most impressive theatrical achievements i've ever seen!  way to go."

there was a woman standing with him, his mom, and her eyes shone with tears.  then another woman asked me to step outside, and this is the christmas part.

she introduced herself as the special ed teacher, and told me that nick is three grades behind in reading level, has ADD, and just got put on some medication to help him out, and she had never seen this kind of progress in a child before.

i'm thinking: a little kind one-on-one, a little attention, and some motivation, i.e. you're gonna be doing this in front of an audience soon-take the script home, and don't forget to have fun.

because: if you don't have a sense of humor?

it just isn't funny.

23 december 2008, the last day of my 50's.

the petting zoo

there exist 7 photographs from this day at the central park children's petting zoo.

they live in a shoebox in my closet.  i'm guessing it is 1950.  the year marilyn monroe made her film debut in "the asphalt jungle."

in my favorite photo, the little boy is seated in a cart, and looking back over his right shoulder at a sign which reads, "REMEMBER: EVEN BABY ANIMALS HAVE TEETH AND CLAWS!"

his fingers are crooked into a 2 year old's vision of talons.

his father's shadow overlays the photograph as he holds the camera at his son. this animal looks friendly enough:

Giving Thanks 2008

thursday, 27 november, thanksgiving, falls on what would be JA's 60th birthday.  this year, i'm grateful for/to:

-kalaa x2, and the courage to spend the $.

-all the women i'm alive/attracted to.

-lupe and her flores.

-reunions with cinnabar theater, beth, and with claire, jack, and their families.

-that i haven't given up, and that i didn't throw my head under that bus on old redwood hiway in 2006.

-rosa y mauricio.

-doctor R, Tony's place, and Mama Java's.

-david lear and working at the 6th street playhouse.

-Candide, In the Mood, and maybe Midsummer Night's Dream a-comin' up.

-for an incredible acting year: Grapes of Wrath, Christmas Carol, Into the Woods, and The Philadelphia Story.

-Toad-in-the-Hole, Red's Recovery Room and rose and jason and paul and anthony and lauren and ms. cody's left breast.

-grampa patrick and the reunion with ann murphy.

-today's surprise phone call from eileen.

-pnn.com.

-humanizing relations with desiree.

-quincy's and the new york football giants and jack carroll and stella, the hearing ear dog.

-stacy williams.

-hardcore espresso there on hwy 116.

-daniel berrigan, thich nhat hanh and the obama victory.

-angela strehli and the Blues Broads and the rancho nicasio.

-playing pool with gertrude and the little red-faced kid.

-the double bank-the-8-ball shot i made today

-Ace a-hangin' in.

-Noodles.

-having a nice room in a nice house with christine and jonathan.

-trusting in the Lilies of the Fiels story.

-gretchen giles and the lessons.

-loving the grateful dead, moe., and todd snider.

-hessel road area, hell, sonoma county.

-the beauty of cheryl itamura.

-being a good setbuilder.

-reading to kindergardeners, then tutoring on fridays.

-passing the CBEST.

-Hawkeye, Eeyore, and the awareness of the little red-faced kid.

-UASA and Bobbi Turner.

-the "ENTER" idea.

-the I Ching:23 SPLITTING APART:submit to the bad time and remain quiet; changing to 24 RETURN (the turning point): everything comes at the proper time-this is the meaning of Heaven and Earth.

grandfather, speak to me

patrick was a kindly looking man, with a big walrus moustache, holding a clarinet when he came from around the tree.

i was sitting with my three 1965 coins, dropping them six times, and writing down the heads and the tails.

"enthusiasm!" he thundered, "weren't you 16 when my son john joseph joined me over here?"

i remembered ken kesey hosting a grateful dead concert broadcast, citing hexagram #16, Enthusiasm: music held the power to unite the souls of men, and ancient chinese religious rituals were held, inviting the souls of the ancestors to descend, and how theatre developed out of these rituals.

"you want speak," he said, "here's speak. move along the lines of least resistance.  when it's time to move, hesitation will bring remorse.  you have been persistently ill, but still you have not died.  you have had a problem with deluded enthusiasm: wanting the new york giants to go undefeated was a deluded wish, and i'm glad cleveland burst THAT bubble only hours after you made the wish. (how much better to lose your first game in october than in january, nich wahr?) but, little red-faced kid, no blame."

i was so glad to finally see him that i didn't speak.  he pulled out a trumpet, and, standing in the driveway now at 50-24, he blew me a solo.  then he smiled, and continued.

"16 turns to 53, son. Development, or Gradual Progress.  it's image?  upon a mountain, this tree you lean against.  hey! it says here, "the maiden is given in marriage!  who is she?"

i didn't know.  sometimes it's tough being a little red-faced kid. so i remained silent.

"i see. well, just work on your own personality, and give no time to worry. because perseverence prevents slow progress from dwindling to nothing.

willfully provoke no conflict.

you can achieve reconciliation despite some deceitful people in your life.

if, perchance, you fly too high, and disappear up there, perhaps you will let drop some of your feathers for use in the sacred dance.  do you think you could do that, for me?"

15 november 2008

NOT KIDDING

DATELINE: 1352, Rome: prankster puts "Practice Random Acts of Kindness" bumpersticker on Nick Machiavelli's carriage.

1651, Paris: Rene Descartes stops thinking for a moment, and dies.

Now, Here: great new book out there: "Plato and a Platypus Walk into a Bar...Understanding Philosophy through Jokes."

buried treasure!

veteran's day, 2008

the little red-faced kid, before he got too red in the face, was exploring the mysteries of the attic in the bayside house.  this would be around 1956.

there was a curious book on parenting that showed a little boy being spanked in black silhouette.  he stayed away from that side of the attic.

the center of the room was floored, but under the sloping eaves, the joists were exposed, and between them lay strange gray cotton-y clumps.  of course now we know those clumps as insulation, 30's style, but the little red-faced kid thought that these clumps must be Grace, a word he had heard in a prayer to someone named mary.

and under the edge of the Grace, he found money, many many bills, and he ran as fast as he could down the attic stairs, and down the upper hall stairs, past the graphicly scary color painting of the Sacred Heart, dripping blood from those sharp sharp thorns driven deep into the muscle, to the kitchen.

there, at the kitchen table, playing Gin, and drinking Schaefer beer, were his mom and his dad.

"i found money in the attic!!!!!" he yelled, as he charged down the last steps, careful not to fall.

his parents scattered cards in their rush past him up those stairs, for he learned later that during the depression, they had stashed cash around the house, not trusting the banks.

he felt very proud.  he was the hero, finally.  he had found a lost treasure, under the Grace.

he ran behind them up the stairs, but did he get a surprise!

they were not happy!

"this is Monopoly money, little red-faced kid." his dad said, not very kindly, either.  his mother, as usual, said nothing.

he felt very sad as he watched them disappear down the attic steps.  sad for them, too.  he knew they could use a little Cheering Up.

it would certainly make the house a little safer.

he hid the book under the Grace on the other side of the attic.

then he went to his brother's room, which was now his.  he built a castle for his knights out of books.

under Heaven rolls Thunder

so: the day after obama won, i'm bouncing.

bouncing from a fog of bad forgotten dreams, being chased,

caught from behind in wild flight and going down hard.

then bouncing up: pinch me! i'm not dreaming, he won! and

in this brave new world, what will the killers do now?

so: the little red-faced kid watches hawkeye throw the coins, and listens to todd snider sing "turn it up-i don't want to hear a word i'm thinking tonight!" and,and it's 25 again Innocence (the Unexpected): under Heaven rolls Thunder, a gentle reminder of trust and first principles, and the kid snuggles into hawkeye's left hip, just like isabella on the kindergarden couch as they read the velveteen rabbit on halloween, and the voice on the boombox has a sense of humor the kid can feel safe near, and 25 changes in the fourth place:

"we cannot lose what really belongs to us, not even if we throw it away.  therefore we need have no anxiety.   all that need concern us is that we should remain true to our own natures and not listen to others." 

the 59 year old man turns the cd back to track 5.  they all three sing along as around a campfire in the 1700s: "i think i'm an alright guy (x3), i think i'm alright."

then the kid gestures to see what 25 turns into: it turns into 61, Inneer Truth.

Wind over the Lake, now.  the superior man discusses criminal case to delay executions.  and...must not one then be cautious?

but it is the change in the fourth place that really catches their eye, and their heart, and their faith: (in reference to the victory by barack obama) they read: "truly the country is transformed."

so they hold onto their hats, and take deep breaths, and prepare themselves inwardly for the change in the weather to come.

A LESSON in FAITH

5 november 2008

i have NEVER in my life been so glad and over-joyed to be wrong.  could someone as obviously intelligent, well-spoken, with his heart in all MY right places as obama have a chance at the presidency?  No way.  no way the people of america are EVER going to elect a black man to the oval office.  bottom line: too much unresolved racism.  to those who had the faith to wear the obama buttons: thank you for at least getting out my vote. 

now why would a state that landslided obama also pass prop 8?

4 November thoughts

leaving the polling place, excited about the american political process for the first time since bobby kennedy 40 years ago, the sun was just coming up.  i picked a tape at random, and handel's "hallelujah chorus" came on.  coincidence or serendipity?

we lost william wharton last week.  he wrote "birdy" among other things.  the new york times obituary shared that when his daughter Kate met the man she would eventually marry, she called him and asked "what is love?"

he replied, "as far as i can tell, love is Passion, Admiration, and Respect.  if you have two of these, you have enough.  if you have all 3, you don't have to die to go to heaven."  it's as good a definition as i've ever heard.

then, 2 days later, we lost studs terkel.  asked about chicago, he said "it's not that great, really.  in fact, it's often horrible.  but it's like being married to a woman with a broken nose.  there are lovelier lovelies, but never a lovely so real."

but on the other hand, you have different fingers.

Dear Gertrude, 30 0ct 08

Well, mom, me and Hawkeye, and the little red-faced kid sure stepped in the shite last week, just two days after running into father heinz in st. sebastions on the 43rd anniversary of dad's death.  but i'm sure you saw it all, cause in some way, we all know you're at least keeping an eye on all of us down here.

about two months ago, i was in beth's office, and i had just heard that the theatre critic for a local paper was also the artistic director of his own company here in the county, and i definitely saw this as a conflict of interest.

so i said, "i think i feel a letter-to-the-editor coming on!"

beth replied vehemently, "ABSOLUTELY NOT! VERBOTEN!I FORBID IT!"

but you know us, mom, all that irish blood (and a couple of jamisons later), but i get ahead of ourselves.

so: last wednesday, the 22nd, i'm out at the hopmonk tavern in sebastopol, because said local paper is hosting an awards ceremony for several artistical types in the county, and one of them is a friend of mine, recently resigned as education chair, but here to be honored for her work in children's theatre. so i'm there to support her work.

where i really want to be is at jasper's watching game 1 of the world series (go rays, mom, 'cause they remind me of the 69 mets).

also at the affair is a BEAUTIFUL woman named desiree.

as soon as my friend gives her acceptance speech, and steps away from the microphone, I step out and make it for the rest of the game.

mom, those phantastical phillies won it all last night, but that's another story.

so, around 10 pm, i go back to the hopmonk (looking for desiree, but she was gone)which by now has reverted to its true nature, i.e. a tavern.  there's a rock band playing over there, but over here, mom, stood the editor of the paper.

i walked over to her, introduced myself (no mention of my last name or any of the theatre companies i work with, mind you), and say, "brunhilde, hello.  do you think you might have a conflict of interest? in that your theatre critic (i'll call him archie) is also the artistic director of his own company, and is writing reviews which might steer his readers AWAY from rival productions, in that we live in an era of a tremendously shrinking leisure dollar?"

or words to that effect.  unfortunately for me, mom, brunhilde did not perceive the words to MY effect, but she saw a LOUD, OBNOXIOUS, THREATENING GUY that apparently had her ready to call SECURITY.

she replied, eventually, "this conversation is over! good night."

so i left.  i did say, "you've got a problem" in parting.

the next day, beth gets a call from brunhilde at home after 10 pm, asking her if this chris murphy guy represents the views of the 6th street playhouse?

then, 5 minutes later, she gets the same kind of call from archie.

then, 5 minutes after THAT, she gets another irate call from someone she won't even tell me who.

so, on friday afternoon, i get called into her office (the same office she once upon a time told me not to write a letter to the editor in?) and i hear this, mom:

"YOU HAVE CREATED A PUBLIC RELATIONS NIGHTMARE FOR ME!!!!!!!!!!!

IF WE DIDN'T HAVE A 25 YEAR RELATIONSHIP AS FRIENDS AND THEATRE COLLEAGUES, YOU'D ALREADY HAVE BEEN FIRED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

AND IF YOU DON'T SEE HOW WRONG YOUR ACTIONS WERE, THEN YOU HAVE GOT AN ego THAT'S TOTALLY OUT OF CONTROL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

HAVE A LETTER OF APOLOGY TO THAT WOMAN ON MY DESK BY MONDAY MORNING, OR YOU will BE FIRED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

end quote, mom.

it was just like that scene in "Network" where peter finch is called into the inner sanctum, and ned beatty looms over him at the long table with all the green lites, and thunders:"you have messed with the primal forces of nature, and YOU WILL ATONE!!!!!!!!!!!!"

i think that movie came out after you passed away, but you could still probably find it on DVD.

anyway, mom, i wrote the letter, cause maybe it was the wrong time and the wrong place, and cause even though theatre pays for shite, i love this job, and you know, crow doesn't taste so bad.

GREAT NEW BOOK FOR KIDS 11-3-08

check out "emily gravett's big book of fears."  it's a workbook, describing all the things Little Mouse is afraid of, and inviting the child to write down what s/he fears.  i'm 59, but i'm working on it, too.  great inventive layout, and very very funny.

dragons

11-3-08

and, in the dark of my

mind's frightened

closet, the green recycling

truck's 2 pronged

forward fork lifts

become the horns

of the Monster as

they pass past the

tree i stand beneath

in this rain.

Humor @ the pace of political change in america!

a little snail is crossing thru central park when he is mugged by two turtles.  they take everything he's got.  he tracks down an NYPD mounted cop, and reports the crime.  the cop asks for a description of the perps, and the snail says, "i don't know! it all happened so fast!"

MEMORARE 11/1/08

i was thinking about you all day thursday, trudy.  i was thinking about how the story went that you hated the name gertrude, and how you were a perfect trudy all along, only no one bothered to call you that.

i was thinking about how to observe the 10th anniversary of your death here today, 1 november 2008, all saints day.  did you know that you are named after a german mystic, st. gertrude the great, and that you were the patron saint of souls in purgatory?  isn't that too rich?

then you left, and here i am alone since, "sitting here in limbo," as the song goes.

i was thinking how having no money really S**KS, but i love all these jobs, and i was wondering if you might possibly help me with the smoking cessation, too, 'cause you never did THAT.

rain is a-comin', mom.  pray for me, please.

maybe i'll go to a lake and feed the ducks for you.  like that time in '96 when i checked you out of the convalescent home, and we bought sandwiches, and you fed yours to the ducks.  you were very popular with them.  and for a very good reason.  if only you could have been a little kinder to yourself?

i know: i'll take your picture to one of the los dias de los muertos altars.

you comin"?

so i threw the i ching thursday, listening to willie nelson.and got 59, dispersion, about how only gentleness can dissolve the blockage when a man's vital energy is dammed up inside him, about how the dissolution is of divisive egotism, and about how i bring help with the strength of a horse.  

willie is singing "i'm running out of time," and "my broken heart belongs to me, my broken heart belongs to you,"  and i'm crying, i'm thinking "NO, not NOW!" with the running out of time thing,

and then i'm wondering "why didn't i ever just pull up a f*****g chair, and ask you to please bring the bottle out of its hiding place, and let's have a few together.

or better yet, after all the bottles i found and poured down the sink, why didn't i ever think to bring my own bottle to your table, and invite you to join me.

(boy, i must have pissed you off plenty, having this little 10 year old booze cop finding all your brilliant hiding places: my favorite was the hanging shoe sleeves inside the unused closet: you were pretty clever.)

so #59 has changing lines, and i was sitting there cringing, here comes the other shoe kind of thing, what horrible misfortune is 59 going to change into:

42.  uh-oh, i think that's DECREASE, here comes the knee-jerk reflex, always expecting the worst.

well, trudy, 42 is INCREASE.

we can accomplish something for the good of the world.

cue willie:"i've fallen on better days."

ya comin'?

1954 Halloween Story

the little red-faced kid was about 5, when his evil stepsister invited him into her room in THAT house, and then, further in, onto her bed!

the light in the room was dim.

and CC began spinning her tale, about how the floor of the room, 16 inches(!) away was crawling and seething and writhing with poisonous red centipedes, and deadly black widow spiders, and..and hissing green snakes, coiling and uncoiling themselves just below the boy's face, and he began to think he could see their forked tongues sliding maliciously in and out of their mouths, and god knows what other kinds of horrible horrible serpents and insects and creatures he had NO IDEA existed were down there!

then, in a soothing voice, CC said, "you are perfectly safe up here above them.  why don't you lean out a little further so you can see them better?"

and the little red-faced kid trusted her, so he leaned out as far as he could, and that is precisely when CC pushed him off the bed.

and in a way, he has been falling ever since.  he must be, because he never landed, right?