What’s that line: ‘If you have ESP, raise my hand. . .’? Well, I’m not really claiming there’s some of it in my family, but there have been some things take place that, as I like to put it, ‘have no other ‘rational’ explanation’. I’ve had things happen, and my daughter has as well, and now I think maybe the grandson is on the same wave length. Actually, I’m pretty sure he is, starting from the day he was born.
My good friend Dawn and her family were very much in favor of Sara and Goeff getting married, even though mixed race couples were not a big thing in our area. Dawn had gotten married over the winter, and was looking forward to their wedding, when she was killed in a freak car accident. Dawn had always wanted children and couldn’t have any, and it was one sadness in her otherwise happy life. Sara’s wedding was two months after Dawn’s death. Stephen was born a year to the day after it.
Now, I am told, Stephen has gotten himself a dog, a cute little beagle. What the hell he needs with a dog, let alone a hunting dog, escapes me, but whatever. My father had beagles; he enjoyed rabbit hunting a lot. He loved going out in the winter, up in Indian Lake, after the snowshoe rabbits, and even got a beagle specially bred for that. She got named Mame, because she had sort of reddish marking, and the grandkids, very young at the time, had just seen the show ‘Mame’ at the theatre, in which the star had red hair. (Oh, don’t get me started on naming animals, how we named the cows is a story of it’s own.) Mame had pups, and one had sort of yellowish markings, so she got named ‘Lemon’.
Now, all of this was long before Stephen was even a thought, in fact my father died and my mother gave the dogs back to the person my father had gotten them from when Sara was a teenager. We may have told a story about the dogs when he was around, but nobody remembers doing that.
Stephen’s beagle has sort of dark yellow markings, and he has named it Lemon.
Go ahead – if you have ESP, raise my hand. Or raise Stephen’s hand. Or pet the beagle.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Friday, September 11, 2009
September 11
A date that forever changed for all Americans eight years ago. Ceremonies are being held in many places to commemorate the day, the events, the victims. Even if you don’t go to one, take a moment and have your own. Say whatever type of prayer you do for the victims, that their fate was as easy as it could be. Say one for those they left, that they are able to continue their lives in as much peace as possible. Say one for all of us, that we can continue to use this to make our country, our patriotism, our selves stronger and braver. Say one that we and our children and our children’s children never know this again.
Being involved with the rescue squad and fire department, I am especially saddened by the number of those victims. Someone had the photo of the firefighters carrying Father Michael Judge out of the rubble on their blog this morning; the photo always makes me tear up. Likewise the one of the firefighters raising the flag on a beam sticking out of the pile of destroyed building. When I was down there the sight of the destroyed fire and EMS equipment was heart-wrenching.
Last night at intermission of dress rehearsal we spent a few minutes playing ‘what were you doing when’. Andrew had been working and his wife called to tell him. Lynne remembered me coming to their house to tell them ‘turn on your tv – we’ve been attacked’. I was home, heard then-President Bush’s statement on the radio station I had on, and put on the tv to see the second plane hit. I watched for a while, and when they declared no flying, I went to the cast house, I was supposed to take one of the company guys to fly home later that day – told him he wasn’t flying anywhere for a while. Then I went to Lynne and Linda’s to tell them.
Called Sara, called my sister – my sister and I went to lunch on Main Street later, and noticed that the village flag was still at the top of the pole. Happened one of the police force was in the restaurant, and I asked him why and he said something to the effect they hadn’t said to put it at half mast but they probably would. So, my sister, and I (being doers, not waiters) went and put it at half mast.
Talking to my daughter the next day I mentioned I hadn’t slept well last night and she wisely said “I don’t think anybody in America slept much last night”.
I did go to NYC about 10 days later, with the rescue squad, and it was an experience I will never forget. http://www.picturesandwordsbybarb.com/WTC.Story.pdf
As I write this, the radio station (WKLI, 100.9 FM: albanymagic.com) is playing a song that has many clips from things like the Kennedy assassinations; they’ve played ‘God Bless America’ and other patriotic songs this morning.
It’s sobering, the number of events of this nature we’ve seen happen in recent history. Let’s see what we can do to keep any more of them from happening in the future.
God Bless all those who lost their lives, those they left behind, and all those who continue to do so helping and protecting the rest of us.
NYC still has tributes to the fallen; every fire station was affected and many have plaques listing their fallen. The hotel we stay in for auditions has a plaque in the elevator lobby commemorating those from the fire station around the corner who were lost. A friend put on Facebook that he was heading for the train to go to the city for remembrance ceremonies this morning.
They remember. We should all remember. Never Forget.
Being involved with the rescue squad and fire department, I am especially saddened by the number of those victims. Someone had the photo of the firefighters carrying Father Michael Judge out of the rubble on their blog this morning; the photo always makes me tear up. Likewise the one of the firefighters raising the flag on a beam sticking out of the pile of destroyed building. When I was down there the sight of the destroyed fire and EMS equipment was heart-wrenching.
Last night at intermission of dress rehearsal we spent a few minutes playing ‘what were you doing when’. Andrew had been working and his wife called to tell him. Lynne remembered me coming to their house to tell them ‘turn on your tv – we’ve been attacked’. I was home, heard then-President Bush’s statement on the radio station I had on, and put on the tv to see the second plane hit. I watched for a while, and when they declared no flying, I went to the cast house, I was supposed to take one of the company guys to fly home later that day – told him he wasn’t flying anywhere for a while. Then I went to Lynne and Linda’s to tell them.
Called Sara, called my sister – my sister and I went to lunch on Main Street later, and noticed that the village flag was still at the top of the pole. Happened one of the police force was in the restaurant, and I asked him why and he said something to the effect they hadn’t said to put it at half mast but they probably would. So, my sister, and I (being doers, not waiters) went and put it at half mast.
Talking to my daughter the next day I mentioned I hadn’t slept well last night and she wisely said “I don’t think anybody in America slept much last night”.
I did go to NYC about 10 days later, with the rescue squad, and it was an experience I will never forget. http://www.picturesandwordsbybarb.com/WTC.Story.pdf
As I write this, the radio station (WKLI, 100.9 FM: albanymagic.com) is playing a song that has many clips from things like the Kennedy assassinations; they’ve played ‘God Bless America’ and other patriotic songs this morning.
It’s sobering, the number of events of this nature we’ve seen happen in recent history. Let’s see what we can do to keep any more of them from happening in the future.
God Bless all those who lost their lives, those they left behind, and all those who continue to do so helping and protecting the rest of us.
NYC still has tributes to the fallen; every fire station was affected and many have plaques listing their fallen. The hotel we stay in for auditions has a plaque in the elevator lobby commemorating those from the fire station around the corner who were lost. A friend put on Facebook that he was heading for the train to go to the city for remembrance ceremonies this morning.
They remember. We should all remember. Never Forget.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
The Fair
The county fair was the past weekend. Besides marking the end of summer and meaning that school would start in two days, the fair was quite a deal when I was a kid.
When I was – oh, gosh, maybe 7 or 8, my sister and I were in the Juvenile Grange. We had made things to put into the Grange exhibit at the fair and my parents were going to take us to look at them – except it kept getting put off because of things to be done on the farm, and by the time we got there on the last night of the fair, the exhibit was taken down. My parents promised us that would never happen again. And, since during the year following we got involved with 4-H, it never did. From then until we quit farming, every year summer was all about getting ready for the fair. Mainly getting the cows we were going to show ready, although we did also practice making pies or cakes or cookies or whatever other food things we were going to enter, and also putting finishing touches on our sewing projects. But mostly it was about the cows. They had to be taught to wear halters and walk on the lead, had to be brushed, washed and clipped. Then they had to be loaded into the truck and taken over and put into the stalls and brushed some more and fed and cleaned up after and washed – and shown. They went into the appropriate age class, and we did Fitting and Showmanship, and any other classes we could qualify for. Ribbons piled up along the rail above the animal’s heads. I think the fair was three days long when we started and may have gone to four days at some point. My sister and I usually spent the whole time there, sleeping in piles of hay next to the cows (I remember one afternoon I was taking a nap, laying against my cow, when she got up and proceeded to lift her tail and crap all over me!). We’d talk to friends, compare cows and prizes, and of course take time out to go to the midway. Got in some fair food, although my mother always made sure to have lots of ‘good food’ for us. We would have those little packets of cereal that used to come with wax paper in the boxes, so you could eat right out of them. We’d wait until some ‘city people’ were coming along and take a box and go to the cow and squirt milk onto the cereal so they could see it – grossed the city kids out every time.
One year A couple of older ladies came down through the barns, got to the animal at the end of our group and started their conversation: “Oh, look at that one laying down – I think it’s going to have a baby”. “Oh, it might be” and to me: “Is that one going to have a baby?” “No, Ma’am, it’s not.” “Ooh, are you sure? It looks to me like it is.” “Yes, Ma’am, I’m pretty sure it’s not.” “Oh, I think it is. Are you really, really sure.” “Well, yes, Ma’am I am really sure that one’s not going to have a baby. That one’s the bull.”
Yeah, the fair was fun.
We couldn’t wait to get there, and at the end couldn’t wait to load up and go home. If we had food in the 4-H building, we’d go get it as soon as we could on closing day, and eat it, prize winner or not.
I get my nostalgia fix, walking through the 4-H building (and getting my baked potato with all the fixings, which they didn’t have when I was there), and going to the barns and looking at the people and their animals. And I’m very glad there are still people bringing exhibits and animals to the fair. I hope that never changes.
When I was – oh, gosh, maybe 7 or 8, my sister and I were in the Juvenile Grange. We had made things to put into the Grange exhibit at the fair and my parents were going to take us to look at them – except it kept getting put off because of things to be done on the farm, and by the time we got there on the last night of the fair, the exhibit was taken down. My parents promised us that would never happen again. And, since during the year following we got involved with 4-H, it never did. From then until we quit farming, every year summer was all about getting ready for the fair. Mainly getting the cows we were going to show ready, although we did also practice making pies or cakes or cookies or whatever other food things we were going to enter, and also putting finishing touches on our sewing projects. But mostly it was about the cows. They had to be taught to wear halters and walk on the lead, had to be brushed, washed and clipped. Then they had to be loaded into the truck and taken over and put into the stalls and brushed some more and fed and cleaned up after and washed – and shown. They went into the appropriate age class, and we did Fitting and Showmanship, and any other classes we could qualify for. Ribbons piled up along the rail above the animal’s heads. I think the fair was three days long when we started and may have gone to four days at some point. My sister and I usually spent the whole time there, sleeping in piles of hay next to the cows (I remember one afternoon I was taking a nap, laying against my cow, when she got up and proceeded to lift her tail and crap all over me!). We’d talk to friends, compare cows and prizes, and of course take time out to go to the midway. Got in some fair food, although my mother always made sure to have lots of ‘good food’ for us. We would have those little packets of cereal that used to come with wax paper in the boxes, so you could eat right out of them. We’d wait until some ‘city people’ were coming along and take a box and go to the cow and squirt milk onto the cereal so they could see it – grossed the city kids out every time.
One year A couple of older ladies came down through the barns, got to the animal at the end of our group and started their conversation: “Oh, look at that one laying down – I think it’s going to have a baby”. “Oh, it might be” and to me: “Is that one going to have a baby?” “No, Ma’am, it’s not.” “Ooh, are you sure? It looks to me like it is.” “Yes, Ma’am, I’m pretty sure it’s not.” “Oh, I think it is. Are you really, really sure.” “Well, yes, Ma’am I am really sure that one’s not going to have a baby. That one’s the bull.”
Yeah, the fair was fun.
We couldn’t wait to get there, and at the end couldn’t wait to load up and go home. If we had food in the 4-H building, we’d go get it as soon as we could on closing day, and eat it, prize winner or not.
I get my nostalgia fix, walking through the 4-H building (and getting my baked potato with all the fixings, which they didn’t have when I was there), and going to the barns and looking at the people and their animals. And I’m very glad there are still people bringing exhibits and animals to the fair. I hope that never changes.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Last day of the theatre season
Today is the last day of the theatre season – or at least the last day of what we now call the ‘regular’ season. We still have Footloose happening for the next two weekends, but most of the company will be leaving after tonight. It’s always a bittersweet time. No matter how talented the group is, and how much we like them, after being together almost 24/7 for 3 ½ months, it’s time to break. This group was very talented and a good bunch to have around, very nice, all got along well as far as I ever heard, anyway. Many of them we’d like to have back, but of course that all depends on what our shows are next summer and what they are doing. No doubt a few we’ll try for.
Nice as it will be to have evenings free again, I’ll miss the music. Won’t miss things like solving all the problems, like last night when I was so tired after a long, long day, and one of the girls ran a car out of gas so at midnight I was holding a flashlight under my arm and trying to fit the too short spout on the gas can into the gas tank and getting gas all over my sandals – all the while hoping nobody came over the hill and clipped the back of the car that was just barely off the highway.
Will miss Quinto and his outrageous actions – like fully flashing me by lifting his shirt up as I was going past him out the door to the deck – and comments like his ‘It’s a fat kid’s Christmas’, about the chocolate fountain at the opening night party. Laura, peeking into the office as she waited for her entrance in aisle 4, telling me about what’s on stage: ‘Did you know there’s a big fight happening on your stage? You should check that out!’ and ‘Did you know there’s a trolley car on your stage? You should check that out!’ Rich: ‘Is this a record for the number of straight guys you’ve had here in one season?’ The apprentices: ‘Barb, what do we do with……’ And many more.
Yeah, there’s some things I won’t miss but I won’t go into that. Well, I won’t miss having to call the ambulance every other thing, it seemed like. I have to count up how many times, but way, way more than any other year, or any couple put together. And the whole thing with leaking roofs, seems like every single building we owned had that problem, and the house the tree fell on still isn’t fixed, 5 months later! But that’s another story. And cars – every one of them had a problem this year, and right now two are out of service and both the others need work but are running – except when out of gas. And air conditioners, two went belly up, a small one in the rehearsal room and one of the big, old ones in the theatre-that wasn’t a problem because it was pretty cool all summer, but the rehearsal room one was missed both at dance rehearsals and during coffee house. Nope, won’t miss that – oh, wait, I still have to deal with all that, to get things fixed for next year. Sigh.
There will be a lot of tears tonight, as always. There already were, at the cabaret yesterday, as always. But the summer has formed friendships and given growth and helped people move along in their careers and lives. And given a lot of people a lot of pleasure. And that’s what we’re about.
Nice as it will be to have evenings free again, I’ll miss the music. Won’t miss things like solving all the problems, like last night when I was so tired after a long, long day, and one of the girls ran a car out of gas so at midnight I was holding a flashlight under my arm and trying to fit the too short spout on the gas can into the gas tank and getting gas all over my sandals – all the while hoping nobody came over the hill and clipped the back of the car that was just barely off the highway.
Will miss Quinto and his outrageous actions – like fully flashing me by lifting his shirt up as I was going past him out the door to the deck – and comments like his ‘It’s a fat kid’s Christmas’, about the chocolate fountain at the opening night party. Laura, peeking into the office as she waited for her entrance in aisle 4, telling me about what’s on stage: ‘Did you know there’s a big fight happening on your stage? You should check that out!’ and ‘Did you know there’s a trolley car on your stage? You should check that out!’ Rich: ‘Is this a record for the number of straight guys you’ve had here in one season?’ The apprentices: ‘Barb, what do we do with……’ And many more.
Yeah, there’s some things I won’t miss but I won’t go into that. Well, I won’t miss having to call the ambulance every other thing, it seemed like. I have to count up how many times, but way, way more than any other year, or any couple put together. And the whole thing with leaking roofs, seems like every single building we owned had that problem, and the house the tree fell on still isn’t fixed, 5 months later! But that’s another story. And cars – every one of them had a problem this year, and right now two are out of service and both the others need work but are running – except when out of gas. And air conditioners, two went belly up, a small one in the rehearsal room and one of the big, old ones in the theatre-that wasn’t a problem because it was pretty cool all summer, but the rehearsal room one was missed both at dance rehearsals and during coffee house. Nope, won’t miss that – oh, wait, I still have to deal with all that, to get things fixed for next year. Sigh.
There will be a lot of tears tonight, as always. There already were, at the cabaret yesterday, as always. But the summer has formed friendships and given growth and helped people move along in their careers and lives. And given a lot of people a lot of pleasure. And that’s what we’re about.
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