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.