What to watch on TV?

It's a Wonderful Life.

Finding Nemo.

Elf.

Cops.

What would you watch?

Ask Dad. He knows.

I wasn't there. (We Are Marshall)

I was talking to my Mom on Friday night after Christmas Carol, and we were comparing busy weeks ahead. I told her that I was going to see "We Are Marshall" on Thursday night. I told her that it was the movie about the Marshall University football tragedy, and she said, "Oh, yes, when all those boys were killed on that bus". "No, Mom, a plane. It was a plane crash".

We lived in Cleveland Ohio at the time and I remember reading about it in the Cleveland Plain Dealer. I skimmed the article. I pretty much forgot about it until moving to this area of the country, and especially to the Huntington area. People here seemed to be obsessed with it. Now, I live close to the epicenter of the tragedy, and because of this movie it has been very much on my mind. How close you are to a historical event both in space and time makes a big difference. To mock the people who lost loved ones, would be so wrong, especially here. Yet, comedians regularly refer to "The Hindenburg", or "The Titanic", and are free to crack wise without offending anyone. 35 people died on the Hindenburg and many more on the Titanic. Is it really OK to joke about the deaths of those people just because we don't live in Lakehurst, NJ? Nobody yet jokes about the attacks in NYC, PA, and DC. Nobody jokes about Marshall.

Mel Brooks said "Tragedy is when I break a nail. Comedy is when you fall into an open sewer.", or something like that.

It's a good movie. Is it good therapy? Or do you have to distance yourself through time and space to make the pain tolerable? Is there really ever any such thing as healing? Or is there just distance?

A year in community theater

Now that "Christmas Carol, the Musical" is over, I have some reflections and comments on my year of community theater.

Firstly, Christmas Carol was a great experience. Mary Smirl's first shot at directing, and we came up with what I think was a great show. Some of the things that I didn't think would work, actually did. I didn't fall of the stairs where I made all of my Marley entrances, I only tripped on my chains once, and my eyes are now relatively clown white free. Mary, Kerri, and Larry, oh, sorry, Lara, all did great jobs. I saw frustration on all of those faces at different points, but it seems like when one was down, another stepped up to it. Reading Mary's blogs, I know she is relieved that it is over, and that she can move on to the next thing. I'm sure Kerri and Lara are too.

I've loved working (with? for? around?) these three women, each of them talented beyond my measurement in their own ways.

Plus, if you add the talents of the cast (and crew), I've been very fortunate to have been involved in the magic that is theater in Huntington over the last year. So many lovable new friends.

Since last fall I've done
Amahl and the Night Visitors (Shepherd) ARTS
Oliver (Mr. Sowerberry, Oom Pah Pah Drunk, Bow St. Runner) 5th Ave
1776 (John Dickenson) Maxxum Productions
Fiddler on the Roof (Lazar Wolf) ARTS
Christmas Carol, the musical (Ghost of Marley, Undertaker) 5th Ave
Welcome to Pauley's (Rick) River Cities Community Church Drama

I need to mention others who have directed or advised me over the last year, Beth McVey, Jerry Crank, Clint, Mark Smith, Danny Ray, Marla, Terry S., and Terri T. Plus there have been many others who have helped me be better in other ways. Too many to mention, except for Scott Black who always compiles a long list of notes for me. Scott and I were in Oliver, 1776, Fiddler on the Roof, and Christmas Carol, the musical. 4 in a row, baby. Oh, and Helga advised me several times to not touch her props if I wanted to keep my fingers. And Linda advised me to take a compliment when given, something I have trouble with at times.

If you know me well, you know also that doing theater has been therapy for me. So although, I do believe I put a lot into these shows, I got much more back. I don't know what would have become of me if Clint hadn't suggested I try out for Oliver, and even before that, if Eric hadn't mentioned that he was going to be a shepherd in Amahl.

That leads into another question. What is next for you now, Mark? Well, I'm glad you asked, Mark. I'm not sure. But, I have notified my landlord that I'll be moving as of January 1st. For the moment, I'm going to concentrate on working at my real job, and living closer to that will help. I will still be able to bop down to Huntington to see shows, I'll be able to take a couple of trips I have put off, and I'll be halfway between two great towns that I love, Columbus, Ohio, and Huntington, West Virginia. I'm thinking of taking a dance class. Not that I need it myself. Of course, not. I just don't want my gift to get stale. Piano lessons? Weightlifting? Guitar? A Howard Hughesian recluse? Lego builder? Day trader? The sky is the limit!

So, so long to acting for the moment. Taking a break. I need to decide where I want to live and buy a house where I can "live by the side of the road and be a friend to man". I'd love that to be in Huntington, or maybe Columbus. Or New York. Or California. Or New Hampshire. Or Canada.

Kenny Rogers, Linda Davis and RCAC

In case you didn't know, RCAC stands for River Cities Arts Choir. And RCAC got to be on stage with County/Pop music legend Kenny Rogers last night in Huntington, West Virginia. We were background vocalists on the last part of the Christmas part of his program.

First, a little about Kenny. His song, "Ruby, don't take your love to town", came out in 1969 and was one of many anti-war songs that I heard as a preteenager. The song was written by Mel Tillis, and was actually about a WWII veteran, according to WIKIPEDIA. Anyway, so I have been a KR fan for 37 years, at least. That's like 250 in dog years. The song doesn't have the impact it did then, but the ending, at the time, was bone chilling, when I first heard it. So, I've liked lots of his stuff over the years. I had no personal conversation with him, but we did get a picture with him, Linda Davis and our choir, and he did speak to us. So, when I make up a story about what big buddies we are, it will be the truth, but stretched a bit.

Here is the story (lie) I'm working on now.

When Kenny Rogers was in Huntington, WV yesterday (true), I was waiting backstage to go on and sing with him. (true) You know, he does lots of duets and sometimes the people he originally recorded them with are not available. (true, but unrelated to this paragraph, and hence, extremely misleading) Well, Kenny, had supplied me with a backstage pass, (true, but again, misleading), and I was hanging around with my posse, (stretch - more like I was a hanger on in somebody else's posse), and here he comes, from off the stage, heading right for me with a big smile on his face. (true, but only because he was being friendly to the entire choir, and I was almost directly behind his chair), and he was so glad that I (actually we) was (were) able to come. (true) He said something to me that I have remembered to this day. (duh, it was last night) He said, "It isn't Christmas until the choir sings." (true, but this was said to everyone in the choir and was also in the paper earlier in the day) He said, "I'm so grateful that you are here." (true, but again, he was speaking of RCAC.)

Linda Davis has has some success as a country music artist and been in some TV shows, and such. She was attractive, pleasant, and has a very rich voice.

Seriously, they were very nice, and I was pleased to be part of RCAC. When we cut our record, we may ask Kenny and Linda to be on it. (lie)

Thanks Lara.

I believe, in lieu of paying the choir, the Huntington City Mission, an organization which you may also be supporting in your own way or through your church, will be getting a little donation. I didn't know that when I signed up with RCAC, but it is nice. (true)

Oh, and by the way, my singing was superb (lie). I mean subpar (true).

Church / Horror films / A Christmas Carol, the musical / Kenny Rogers

So, three performances down, the first of which was the best, I'm on a little play break. Brush up is Wednesday. More performances Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.

Yesterday, I went to church (RCCC), heard a sermon on 1 Peter 3, about mutual submission, but this was the wife's side of things. Next week is the husband's role. I almost left when I saw the topic, as I have no wife, and don't need to know about what a wife's responsibility is, but didn't, largely because there was a set on the podium, and I smelt a skit. Also, the music started and we were to sing some Christmas songs. How can you walk out on Christmas songs? The skit was horrible, in the true, elder sense of the word. (Arousing or tending to arouse horror. It inspired horror in me, but not at the play itself.) It was excellently done, (by Terri Tags, and Simon Woods). It was a husband/wife discord thing, and it was devastating to be there. But, it was good. There was authentic yelling and resignation to divorce. Some of the folks at night church discussed the skit, and this led to some interesting conversation. Some of which revealed things which cannot be repeated.

Getting divorced is like being in a horror film. The body snatcher/pod themed films. You feel like your spouse has been replaced because they are not acting like they used to. Frankenstein moves very slowly, but is relentless in his plodding pursuit. You can run from the divorce juggernaut, but it will get you eventually. Then there is the great horror movie theme of the unknown. What is out there? What is around the corner? Sometimes the monster is trapped in the windmill. Sometimes, the pod people are going to win. Sometimes when the monster gets close, you just give up and wait for it to choke you. I always wondered why people just stand there as the scaly green hands move slowly into the frame.

Divorce is so stupid. I hate it. Moses gave you divorce because of the hardness of your hearts but from the beginning it was not so.

So, Christmas Carol went pretty well. Minor things. I stood on somebody's trap door, I think. They were unable to come back out. My facial skin is raw from the dozen or so applications of makeup. I have to put on white, go to flesh, and back to white, so that is three per performance + rehearsals. Then there is the cold winter wind. Ouch. I understand that Saturday, I scared fellow play actor Susan's 2 year old with my scary antics on stage. She evidently had visions of ghosts as she was going to bed that night. I've had a couple of other small people, Tristan's sister for one, be a little afraid of me, but all the little folks in the cast want to grab the keys, open my pocket watch, and look at the coins in the box. I feel badly about scaring people, but it is part of the gig.

After the play little boys came up to me and wanted to see my costume, and see how heavy my chain is. I did several photo ops with little boys. One wouldn't get too near me as he feared I would drop my chain on him. Pictures with Santa? Easter Bunny? Scooby Doo? Barney? The Wiggles? and Marley? It's a new one on me.

So, I'm in a choir thrown together over the last couple of weeks that, on Thursday, will be singing with Kenny Rogers. I'm really looking forward to it. It will be another story I can parley into 6 stories of hanging with the greats, ala, (So, I was in Chicago, and I stopped by to see (Mr.) T....), etc. It is a nice group of people who sing well, and it should be a hoot. I think Clint will be actually performing on stage with or instead of Kenny.

Kenny: "Oh, Roo-oo-bee...."

Clint: "For God's sake. Turn around."

I'm paying $14.00 to have my $4.00 tuxedo dry cleaned before Thursday, just in case I'm called upon to sing the second part in "Islands in the Stream". It has clown white Marley makeup all over it. But now, being a theater veteran, I know to not make up my hands until I have everything on. I'm so stupid.

Winchester Cathedral, you're bringin' me down

Winchester Cathedral, you're bringin' me down,
You stood and you watched her, my baby left town.
Abodeodo Abodeodo Abodeodo Abodo.

I'm flying in Winchester Cathedral,
Sunlight pouring through the break of day.

Listening to Crosby, Stills and Nash yesterday in the car, I was reminded about how both of these songs, one by the New Vaudeville Band and the other by CSN were about the same place.

I like both of them for different reasons.

The first one was a hit when I was a kid, and everyone would imitate the sound of the vocals, which, if you are under 45 were a Rudy Valleesque vocalist singing through a megaphone. It is goofy, and I like it.

The CSN was big in my circle of friends when I was in college. I have the album somewhere. There is a mysterious aspect and a passion in this song.

The first is a silly song where an inanimate object is blamed for not ringing bells to stop his girl from leaving town. Huh?

The second also contains an element of blame, as in the lines,
"Open up the gates of the church and let me out of here!
Too many people have lied in the name of Christ
for anyone to heed the call.
Too many people have died in the name of Christ
that I can't believe it all."

Interesting. Shall we put the blame where it should be?

In the first song, maybe the cathedral saw that the guy was a real jerk, and she was right to leave him. Maybe the bell portrays a silent assent to her plans to leave her abuser. Any way you see it, the cathedral can't be held responsible for the breakup of this relationship. Even if it did give them bad relationship advice. Which it didn't.

In the second song, maybe Christ is being misrepresented by his followers, and we are a stumbling block to those who would come to Christ if not for us. Maybe we should be lights instead of jerks. (Let love be without hypocrisy. Abhor what is evil; cling to what is good.) Maybe we should show love for one another, like God demonstrated His own love for us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. I guess He could have run over us with a tank. That would have been a solution.

Or maybe the "blame the bad Christian" gambit is just an excuse to ignore Christ, and a refusal to allow Him to be seen as he would be seen in the scriptures and in the lives of those who take his name. Seriously.

What do you think?

http://www.winchester-cathedral.org.uk/

I'm flying in Winchester Cathedral. Winchester Cathedral, you're bringin' me down. And I am high, above the altar. All religion has to have its day.
Abodeodo Abodeodo Abodeodo Abodo. Doh!

Death Anniversary - more than just JFK.

Mae West, Michael Conrad, Scatman Crothers, Arthur S Sullivan, Blackbeard, Bill Bixby, C. S. Lewis, Sterling Holloway, Mark Lenard, Shemp Howard, Lorenz Hart, Jack London, Aldous Huxley, and JFK.

Mid Ohio Con and Three's Company and Christmas Snow and Lou Ferrigno

OK, this is essentially a comic book convention. Why is Joyce DeWitt going to be there? Firstly, I have absolutely no opinion of Joyce DeWitt, positive or negative. I'm sure she is a fine actress, she has made a living acting, which is something that I would do if I had the talent. (I am a community theater actor, BTW.) But do the legions who love comic books really crossover into Three's Company? I never watched Three's Company, because I hated it. OK, maybe I should explain why. I hated Three's Company because of the theme song. Before, or since, there has never been a sappier, worse sung theme song for a TV show.

I consider the actual show smarmy as well. Pornography for tots. The sexual equivalent of a fart joke. At least pornography is an honest attempt at stimulating prurient interest in venality. Smarm winks and hints and demands to be taken as clever and sexy. None of the characters was appealing to me in the slightest, except for Christmas "Crissy" Snow, played by Suzanne Somers, who at least bordered on winsome on occasion. And she was darn cute. Yes, if TC was on and I flipped by and SS was on screen I would pause and watch her. I'm only human, man! She was the Benson and Hedges girl on the ad in the window of drug stores across America, the thigh-master girl, American Grafitti's girl in the white T-Bird, and a heroic cancer survivor. God bless her. She still looks awesome, and she's older than I. But, I digress.

Norman Fell was the poor man's Ned Glass.

The Soup Nazi will be there. I'm looking forward to meeting him. I will ask him to sign, "Come back. One year." instead of the usual "No soup for you". I'm sure he is sick of writing and saying that one.

The biggest TV star that will be there is Mira Furlan who plays somebody on Lost. (The French Woman.) I quit watching Lost, but I remember her being on the first season. But, I would rather meet June Lockhart again. Or Lou Ferrigno (Happy Brithday(55) today, Lou!). Or Cissy from Family Affair. And Beau Smith will be there! I can't wait.

Did I ever tell you about the time Mr. T. told me, "It's all about the kids"? Can you imagine a convention where you could meet Suzanne Somers and Mr. T?

God Bless Mr. T. Another heroic cancer survivor. God Bless Annie Black for the same reason.

And Happy Birthday, Lou. Happy Birthday Edward VII.

Happy Halloween? Bah Humbug!

"Happy Halloween? Bah! Humbug!"

"Halloween a humbug, uncle!" said Scrooge's
nephew. "You don't mean that, I am sure?"

"I do," said Scrooge. "Happy Halloween! What
right have you to be happy? What reason have you
to be happy? You're poor enough."

"Come, then," returned the nephew gaily. "What
right have you to be dismal? What reason have you
to be morose? You're rich enough."

Scrooge having no better answer ready on the spur
of the moment, said, "Bah!" again; and followed it up
with "Humbug."

"Don't be cross, uncle!" said the nephew.

"What else can I be," returned the uncle, "when I
live in such a world of fools as this? Trick or Treat!
Out upon Happy Halloween! What's Halloween time to
you but a time for buying candy on credit; a time for
dressing up in a goofy costume, pretending to be
Jack Sparrow, a ghost, a crayon, or a can of SPAM,
finding yourself a year older, but not an hour richer;
a time for balancing your books and having every item
in 'em through a round dozen of months presented dead
against you? If I could work my will," said Scrooge indignantly,
"every idiot who goes about with 'Happy Halloween' on his lips,
should founder on tootsie rolls, and be buried with a pixy stik
through his heart. He should!"

"Uncle!" pleaded the nephew.

"Nephew!" returned the uncle sternly, "keep Halloween
in your own way, and let me keep it in mine."

"Keep it!" repeated Scrooge's nephew. "But you
don't keep it."

"Let me leave it alone, then," said Scrooge. "Much
good may it do you! Much good it has ever done
you!"

"There are many things from which I might have
derived good, by which I have not profited, I dare
say," returned the nephew. "Halloween among the
rest. But I am sure I have always thought of Halloween
time, when it has come round--apart from the
veneration due to its sacred name and origin, if anything
belonging to it can be apart from that--as a
good time; a kind, spooky, charitable, pleasant
time; the only time I know of, in the long calendar
of the year, when men and women seem by one consent
to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think
of people below them as if they really were
fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race
of creatures bound on other journeys. And therefore,
uncle, though it has never put a scrap of gold or
silver in my pocket, I believe that it has done me
good, and will do me good; and I say, God bless it!"

The clerk in the Tank involuntarily applauded.
Becoming immediately sensible of the impropriety,
he poked the fire, and extinguished the last frail spark
for ever.

"Let me hear another sound from you," said
Scrooge, "and you'll keep your Halloween by losing
your situation! You're quite a powerful speaker,
sir," he added, turning to his nephew. "I wonder you
don't run for Governor."

A Brush With Greatness

And what is the point when greatness brushes us?
Is it to prove the common touch?
Or is it a desire to be above and have admirers?
I don't know.

A brush with mediocrity,
What can be the point?
To lower and to condescend?
To feel and be above!

Or can it be to pull and lift and wrench
until in imitation,
(from common clay),
the great are reproduced?

Ah Superman,
your love and hope for Lois I can see,
but why give that watch to Jimmy Olsen?

The reality of Fiddler on the Roof

Well, the run of Fiddler on the Roof is done. It ended up being a pretty good show. I made a few mistakes here and there. Mac was quite good, and lots of other people were good as well. I made some new friends and got to hang out with some old friends. Scott Black and I were both in Oliver, 1776, Fiddler, and now Christmas Carol. Danny Ray was associated with the last 3 shows. Mac is associated with 3 of the 5 shows I have done in the last year. 5 or more of the Fiddler cast will join the already in progress Christmas Carol rehearsal process.

No bottles were harmed during the wedding bottle dance in the last three performances. One thing that I observed on Thursday that Beth McVey, our director also mentioned after the show. On Thursday during a morning student performance, a couple of bottles went falling to the floor. They didn't break, but they fell nonetheless. And because they fell, the ones that stayed up there were proved to be more authentic. Authentic actions sometimes involve risk. Everyone wanted all of the bottle dancers to keep their bottles "on-hat". But because a couple of them fell, everyone in the audience knew that there was no velcro, glue, or trickery. There was risk.

We could have used bottle hats with glue or velcro, but the guys that did our dance were not acting. They WERE bottle dancers. There are, within the play, moments of pure unadulterated reality. My reality in the play was less exciting. I was sitting on a bench, and on a stool at a table with my dear friends, and that part was reality. Of course, we weren't drinking alcohol. We were only pretending to be drunk, but when Tevye and Lazar hug at the end of the play, there is some reality there too. And Reb Mordcha was really singing. Motel really did a somersault. (Somerset to you Beatles fans.) The fiddler really was on a roof. Was the fiddler in Tevye's imagination? Is that who he talks to when he breaks the fourth wall?

Sometimes reality invades our play. There is no avoiding it. Right now, I feel like plays are invading my reality, and that's ok too.

$60,000 a year for wandering in the parking lot from 9:30 to 3:30 one day per week.

Crossing my clawed fingers as I sit looking out the window, one of many puppies, waiting to see my master's car in the driveway, to hear the distinctive squeak of his brakes gently applied as he coasts to a stop. Will Ronnie return today? I wag my tail. Today could be the day where his warm gaze and kind eyes will once again bathe us in their love and concern as he pours the kibble. Anticipating the sound of the canine cereal bouncing about in and out of the plastic bowl, I salivate.

A pound of salt, please.

My head is stuck

So, I like plants and animals. I always have. I have owned a series of cats, turtles, newts, fish, frogs and snails. (A snail is perhaps the easiest pet to keep, as the nastier their container gets, the happier they are. But I digress.)

I own no pets at the moment, but I do feed the feral cats at school (work). I used to feed them daily, but lately, due to a big construction project tearing up their world, or some other reason known only to the feline mind, they haven't been around in the morning or evening. Some of them will disappear for weeks and then show up for no apparent reason. 5 or 6 of them were here every day all summer. They have been coming around less and less as school is in session and they don't like all the people and the cars. One showed up today, as we have no school on Columbus day, so I went out and dumped a can of food out. A second one showed up. The first one was frightened and ran off a ways. These two cats are siblings and eat together all the time, but not today, at least at first. The first cat, the one with the bandit mask, was very wary and stood off a bit. The second cat was wearing a red and white babushka.Well, that was my first impression.

What it was actually, was a tubular plastic wrapper that used to be full of hamburger. Like a large sausage skin, but made of vinyl. Evidently, the kitty had been trying to get the last morsel out of the wrapper, and had been unable to back out of it. The cat eventually had the major portion of it wrapped around her neck, and her head was sticking through. Comical, yes. Dangerous, maybe. I thought, I need to try to get that off of her. Now, I have (two small and one big) scratches on the back of my hand. Why would the cat scratch me? Well, I grabbed at something that was hanging around her neck and held on, as she leaped in the air and bared all of her claws. Was it worth it? Yes, I will heal. I washed the wounds, so I should be OK. The cat will be happier, now, even though I scared the heck out of her. I don't think she has any idea that I was trying to help her. She was in defensive mode. If she had known me and my heart, she would have laid down and waited while I got some scissors and carefully, slowly, gently removed her burden. Fear! What a waste of the cat's energy and my skin.

"Swing down from the winner's seat, ears ringing to an ancient beat, lie down in the grass, lie down in the grass! A voice in the daytime, a dream at night, out the screen door, in the moonlight, LIE DOWN!" - Charlie Peacock

A Christmas Carol - Marley

When you tell people that you will be playing "Marley" in "A Christmas Carol", and they say, "You're playing Bob Marley?", of course, they are joking. Aren't they?

Well, cultural references being what they are, Bob may end up better remembered than Jacob. Of course, Bob was an actual person, and Jacob is a plot device. Ebenezer Scrooge is one of the most widely understood literary icons in western literature, but he and Marley are probably better known from the thousands of Christmas Carol references pushed at us via TV and movies.

Who can remember all of the versions starring Mickey Mouse, Mr. Magoo, Bill Murray(Scrooged), Alistair Simms, Vanessa Williams(A Diva's C.C.), Reginald Owen, Tom Everett Scott (Karroll's Christmas), Jack Elam (Scrooge's Rock n' Roll Christmas), Cicely Tyson (Ms. Scrooge), and countless others? The version we are doing was done starring Kelsey Grammer, but I have yet to see that one.

The All Dogs Go To Heaven, Bugs Bunny, Flintstones, Jetsons, Muppets, and Blackadder franchises all had Christmas Carol related output.

I won't even start with all of the episodic TV Christmas Carol related stories, except to say that the TV show "The Odd Couple" was the best of that genre that I have seen. Who can forget Al Moliraro playing Murray the Cop playing Tiny Tim? Watch that one all the way through and you will be cured of your fear of clowns. Oh, you will still have nightmares, but you will see Al's huge hammy face saying, "God bless us, everyone."

Duck Tales is a cultural reference for anybody under 25 or so, and I would guess that more folks under 20 would associate Scrooge with Scrooge McDuck than with Ebenezer Scrooge.

Carl Barks, what have you wrought?

A breakfast on a charcoal fire (a meditation on John 21:1-17)

A breakfast on a charcoal fire
(a meditation on John 21:1-17)

A breakfast on a charcoal fire
for tired fisherman prepared.

A wasted night of nothing caught,
their weary muscles stretched and sore.
The dawn is here and hunger too.
They row their little boat toward shore.

An early riser on the beach
instructs them one more time to dip
the net into the empty sea.
The net is full enough to rip.

It is the Master, John tells Pete,
who jumps into the sea and swims.
The others guide the boat to land,
and beach it, spending weary limbs.

Bring me some fish that you have caught,
and come and eat. The breakfast's on!
There's bread and fish and fellowship
with Him who made the sun and dawn.

The Son of God who made the stars,
is cooking fish and serving bread.
The Lamb of God, The Lord, The King
who chose the servant's role instead.

Simon Peter, Love Thou Me?
Feed the lambs I've left with you.
I will provide your daily bread.
Which kind of fishing will you do?

A breakfast on a charcoal fire
Retired fishermen prepared.

Copyright 1996 Mark Near