Unselfish Certainty

I love my cousin, Debbie. She's a distant cousin who we didn't get to know until about 20 years ago, but she's a part of the family now.

Debbie is whip-smart, funny and down to earth. We played a question/answer game the other night when the family got together for a mid-winter gathering. The thought provoking questions made most of us pause and ponder to consider our answers. Debbie spit out her answers like rapid-fire bullets.

What would you try if you had no fear? Drugs.

Who would you trade places with for one month? Hilary Clinton.

If you could have front row seats to any concert who would you like to see? Elvis

Would you stop eating all junk food to live 5 years longer? No!

There are some smart people in my immediate family. Eight of the nine brothers and sisters have advanced degrees, and there is a doctor, a couple of lawyers, a couple of writers, an artist, and a few successful business folks. There's not a slouch in the bunch, but none of us can hold a candle to Debbie in the brains department. Being with her is stimulating and always entertaining; add the size of her heart into the equation and you've got a formidable force.

Debbie is about to launch her youngest child, who heads off to college in the fall. Yet her parenting days are not over. In early summer, she will take over raising three of her sister's children, ages 8. 10, and 12. These are children who have been brought up so differently than she would have brought them up--no formal schooling, little in the way of resources, fundamentalist parents--that it will be an adjustment for everyone. Her sister needs her help right now, and while Debbie is mourning the loss of her empty nest opportunity, she hasn't a selfish bone in her body. Of course these children will be welcome in her home. Of course she will love them and keep them safe and do her best for them. She's quite sure we would all do the same,she says.

She is probably right, but it is the certainty that she packs into her words that makes me believe it to be true. It is that certainty that she brings when she answers a question or shares an opinion, that she applied to her life when she went to medical school while raising two little girls with her husband, Jeff. Part of her success as a physician, wife and mother is due to her clear minded thinking, to her ability to see her way forward.

And so, with certainty, she is the one stepping up, rearranging her life and opening her heart and home for three more children.

I love my cousin Debbie. . .

The Perfect Word

I woke up whimpering. My body is healing (I hope!) slowly, but I've never had such long lasting pain before and I'm surprised at how challenged I am at managing it.

I'm at my best when I'm up and moving; sitting for even short periods of time causes painful stiffening and night times are difficult.

So why am I so pleased?

I love the word "whimper!" It so perfectly describes what comes out of my mouth throughout the night that the writer in me found an overpowering desire to share.

No need to feel bad about my situation. This is a "ta-da" moment for me; I get to indulge in a little catharsis by complaining to my faithful readers, and the writer in me gets to indulge in a little wordplay.

As always, things could be worse . . .

The Play Closes and Life Goes On

The end of a show is always bittersweet. A lot of effort, a lot of time, a ton of emotion goes into any play--the writing, producing, directing, collaborating, and performing takes months. There are the practical details--is the show too long or too short, can this actor or actress play a certain part, can you stage the play in the available space, how much is too much to charge for tickets, where are we going to get those tuxedos, when is your cast going to turn in their bios for the program, when are they going to finally memorize those lines . . . it goes on and on.

There are the creative details--have I developed the characters sufficiently, are they varied enough; can they be angry, or off-center, or silly, or unintelligent and still come off as approachable during the improvisational parts of the show.My plays are comedies and I have a good ear for dialogue, but after you've rehearsed a show for a month or more, after you've heard those lines done a million times with no audience to react, the doubts creep in. Who am I fooling? Will that line really get a laugh?

Having done this sort of thing for 25 years, having worked with many of my actors for almost that long, picking a cast is often the easiest part--and the hardest. I write parts with specific people in mind, I play to their strengths, I try my best to take care of them. Winging It was a recycled play, written a dozen years ago for a corporate event; modifying it to include my regulars was a challenge. I found spots for 4 regulars, 2 actors I'd worked with once before, and 2 new ones who answered a casting call. In the end, they came together beautifully. The chemistry I hoped would develop between the bride and groom--and there are no guarantees when it comes to chemistry--showed up beautifully about two weeks before opening night.

You hang your hopes on your cast; your work is in their hands. A play is a symbiotic relationship between the cast, the playwright, the director and the audience, but in the end, it's the cast that goes out there night after night and needs to bring it home. I always encourage them to adjust their lines for comfort, to give me their feedback. They bring fresh insight to something I've labored over for months and I always end up with some great new lines or a wonderful twist on one of my own creations. I always feel I give my cast some great material to work with; they pay me back every time!

Defined, the noun "cast" is a group of performers, brought together to put on a show. Of course, as with many words in the English language, other meanings exist, and there is one other meaning that applies nicely to those hard working, funny, talented entertainers who took part in Winging It. "Cast" as a verb, also means to radiate. And they did . . .

So, the hard part is over and we go on with our ordinary, non-performing, not-so-creative lives that exist when we are not in play mode. Katz (who played Enrique Schlimovitz--the worst wedding planner ever) and I are glad to have our lives back, but then, there is the bittersweet part: I miss Isabel and Philip de Vigny,the Reverend Joshia, Aunt Tootie, and the Kozinsky family--Bea, Max, Celia and Fitzwallace, and, of course, the actors who played them. Still, I'm catching my breath, regathering my creative juices, and looking forward to "casting" my net over them again in years to come.