The Boy in the Striped Pajamas

Last week, I watched a movie that violated all my movie rules, and I am glad I did...I think. My notes for this post began with a sheet of paper divided vertically. The left side was intended for those traits that will automatically boot a film off my watch list. The right side was reserved for those qualities that insure I will settle in for the evening with Pepsi and popcorn. The left lane got awfully long awfully fast, but it does help in narrowing my search for an evening's entertainment. Since watching The Boy in the Striped Pajamas, I will re-think portions of my list. This movie would never have made the cut, had I not been tired from Heart-A-Rama, and had my neighbor not dropped the movie off for me last weekend at the very moment I had decided to spend the afternoon watching dreadful, no-brainer movies on Lifetime.

Here's a part of the left column :

1. No swelling symphonic music. That almost always means there will be concentration camp somewhere in the movie.

2. No kids in bad or sad situations, such as missing, stolen, ill, abused, family crisis...

3. No violence toward humans or animals. It can be spoken of, but I don't want to see it. I guess that comes from reading so many Greek plays where a minor character rushes in, describes some messy scene that turns the plot in a new direction, and off he goes, never to be seen again. That I can deal with. Shakespeare, on the other hand, seems to gleefully build plenty of violence into his plays. Take Mercutio's death scene in Romeo and Juliet, for instance. Even though he's stabbed, and his death is imminent, Mercutio manages to gasp out a lengthy (and sort of funny) speech, before becoming "worm's meat." That's typical of Shakespeare. The more drawn out the death, the better. The more deaths in a single scene...oh so merry! My first reading of Hamlet proved a challenge. The truth is, there was so much bloodshed piled upon bloodshed in the end, that I couldn't finish reading. Then, wouldn't you know, I walked into class only to hear those two words that all high school students dread - POP QUIZ. I'll never forget the final question, and confess to using it myself with my own students: How many people died in the final scene? Knowing how bloodthirsty the playwright was, I took a stab at "everyone." Wrong. Close. But wrong.

4. No to movies that begin with any sort of weather (unless set in the British Isles), movies that mention or show rats, snakes, those big part pig, part rat creatures, or swarms of flying insects or monkeys (yes, that means The Wizard of Oz is out for me).

5. I do not like movies that take place on airplanes, or have airline attendants as main characters. No sports movies. No war movies. No ninjas, or doctors, either. Basically, no uniforms.

6. No to most of the big award winners. Cerebral comedies don't work for me either, such as...sorry, can't think of one. Give me a good screwball comedy. I will admit to laughing out loud at Napoleon Dynamite, all National Lampoon vacation movies, and most movies with Will Ferrell.

There's more! But I will spare you.

My perfect movie would begin with a shot of rush hour traffic in some big city with a lot of over and underpasses. There would be no accidents or traffic jams...just people going places, underscored by snappy, contemporary music without lyrics. (add to my NO list, movies with those annoying slo-mo scenes set to under engineered music with cheesy lyrics).

My perfect movie would star all or any combination of the following: the Hepburn girls, Doris Day, Cary Grant, Reese Witherspoon, Gwenyth Paltrow, and Johnny Depp. (Add to my NO list...any movie that has too many big name stars cluttering up the works, with the exception of those just listed.)

The plot? Did I mention that Johnny Depp should be in the movie?

The Boy in the Striped Pajamas has stuck with me since last weekend. I know that "powerful" is a painfully overused word, but that's the only one that works. The sucker punch of an ending is breathtakingly horrifying, and because of it, I hesitate suggesting anyone see this movie. And yet, it's a must-see if ever there was one.

Two boy meet and become friends despite the huge barrier between them. 8 year old Bruno's father has been relocated to Poland, where he supervises one of Hitler's camps. Bruno can see the "farm" from his bedroom window, and goes exploring. On one such journey, he meets Shmuel, a boy about his age, sitting on the other side of the fence in his pajamas. Bruno can see that Shmuel is sad, but Bruno's innocence prevents him from putting the entire puzzle together. He visits Shmuel often, bringing him food, playing catch over the barbed wire, and talking of the future when they will play together with no separation.

Yes, there's symphonic music, and the concentration camp. There are mistreated children -physically and emotionally. There is violence and unexplainable hatred. But the boy's faces kept me watching. Sincerity, fear, hope, degradation, resilience...all in their little faces. Despite the situation, despite the brevity of their friendship, the relationship gave depth to their emotional lives. The impact of the ending comes, as T.S. Elliot would say "not with a bang, but a whimper" and that is what makes it so profound.

See this movie if you can. Check it out for yourself before watching it with your kids. Reviewers point out minor historical inaccuracies, but they aren't enough to negate the larger issue. Ugly as this time in human history was, we cannot afford to tuck it away, and assume that if we don't talk about it, it may not have existed. And worse, we must not assume that it can't happen again.

What am I reading? I hope to start The Boy in the Striped Pajamas if it arrives today. I also have started The Girls from Ames by Jeffrey Zaslow. The eleven Ames girls formed a bond in childhood. As adults, they moved to eight different states, yet managed to maintain an enduring friendship. the girls, now in their forties, have a lifetime of memories in common, some evocative, and many that are resonating strongly for me.

From the Heart-A-Rama files

Our circus packed up and left town on Saturday. Sorry. I was so taken with the show this year, that I didn't stop to take many pictures for you. Every night, I found something new in the show to chuckle at. Of course, there are the behind the scenes adventures,that I some day may recount for you, but all in all, this was a year free of practical jokes, theatre antics, and bad behavior.

However, I must give a standing O to Brad, one of our newest directors. Not only is he a crowd pleaser on stage, he is fast becoming a skilled director. Brad directed two short scenes this year, and, in my opinion, one of them was theatrically the best staged scene in the show. Of course, I am a little jealous of his astute stage eye, but hey, good going Bradley. Be proud!

Last week I was willed a box of HAR photos through the ages. My summer project is to do something with them. First, how to organize them! By theme? By subject? By decade? Maybe an obtuse pattern would be better... chronologically based on receding hairlines, or expanding waistlines. Perhaps anarchy would be best...no organization...randomly pick some and do something. At any rate, no matter what becomes of them, you are sure to see many of them on this blog.

We're done for another year. But guess what the big discussion was at the cast/crew party on Saturday night. Next year's show...and we're off!

You Gotta Have Heart

Well, we are three nights in to this seven night fund-raising gig, and I gotta tell you, there is some nice power at work that binds this extended family together. That's our happy Rhonda, at the top, looking all big-city. That's because she moved to New York two years ago. Last year she came back to be in the show. That wasn't possible this year, but she did surprise us by turning up unannounced on Saturday night. The bigger surprise of the night was that one of our performers, Fred, gave up his role so that Rhonda could go stage in his place! That's the kind of guy Fred is, and the kind of spirit that lives in the group. This weekend, Jacque, former employee, now friend, and daughter of Debbie and Mike, HAR committee chairs, will be home from D.C. to see the show, and my little friend, Emily, grandaughter of our general co-chairs, will come from Madison to see her very first Heart-A-Rama!

Brenda moved to Madison, but she turned up to work for a couple nights. Heart-A-Rama gets in your blood, and it is just what we do every spring. The tiny crocus pop up, spring rains fall, temperatures fluctuate annoyingly, and Heart-A-Rama beckons. Simple. Dotted thoughout the audience each night are the smiling faces of people who, for a plethora of reasons, can't play with us anymore. But they come to watch and to support the cause. I am lucky. Because of my job with the group, I get to see everyone in the audience, giving me a chance too catch up with old HAR friends.

Over the past few months, I've filled you in on how the show comes together. Here's a glimpse into my typical night at the Community House. Of the current show's directors, I am the only one who is not in the show. The other directors don't want to take a chance on me for some reason! The reality is that I don't enjoy being on stage, and have found a comfortable arena in the directing world.

Here's my typical night.....

6:30...director's meeting. Directors, tech support, stage crew, producer, MC's...we all cram ourselves in the narrow stairwell on stage right. Again, luck is on my side...no make-up or costume to get into, so I can get to the meeting well ahead of everyone, and secure a steely cold cement step to sit on. My grandmother would be horrified, and would surely warn me about hemorrhoids. We discuss the previous night's show, offer solutions for problems that arose, give our producer reminders to share with the cast. We talk some nonsense with whoever is sitting closest, and then it's off.

6:50...catch up with Chad in the sound booth and share some scintillating conversation. Chad is fun, reasonably quirky, and we know one another enough now that the banter is as comfortable as periods of silence. This was Saturday's conversation:

Chad: You don't dye your hair, do you, Bev? (He excels at leading questions!)
Bev: Why yes Chad, I do. Here's a news item for you, I bet over half the cast does.

Long silence while Chad checks battery levels on the mics, and then...

Chad: But, that would mean that some of the men dye their hair.
Bev: Correct.
Chad: Hmmmmm...

Another minute or so passes. Chad hands off mics to Chris and Rick. Then..

Chad: What color do you dye it?

Bev: The color that you see.

Pause

Chad: Oh.

Too much excitement! Gotta move on! I pass out the headsets, so I can communicate with backstage and dressing room.

7:10...back to the booth to watch the toilet seat auction. Approximate totals so far...Thursday $1500.00; Friday, $1,000.000, and Saturday we got over $3,000.00.

7:25...sneak off the main floor when possible, up to the dressing room for the cast meeting, and a healthy dinner of cookies, licorice, and popcorn. Rick, our HAR poet laureate, reads his poetic reflection on the previous night, making sure to include any and all bad cast behavior.

7:27...back to the main floor, where I prepare myself for the biggest job of all...waiting for the signal to turn off the house lights to start the show.

Once the show starts, I just wait for something exciting to happen. When it does, I spring into action! Perhaps there will be a costume malfunction in "The Underpants Dance." Maybe someone the audience will faint at one of the show's naughty lines. More likely, my biggest thrill will be flagging down a heartdog seller at intermission, so I can buy two dogs for Terri, who can't escape from backstage to do so.

During intermission, Chad leaves the sound booth to me, where I generally crank Dave's guitar mic way up. He is an awesome musician, and I try to push his instrumental solos as much as possible. The downside is that, in addition to being an accomplished guitarist, Dave is a perfectionist. I get the impression, via messages from other band members, that he does not appreciate my adoration. The amplified volume, he claims, also amplifies any mistakes he makes. Too bad, Dave, I do enjoy fiddling with those buttons, and a number of people stop by the booth to tell me how good the sound is during the show. I promise (in my mind) to pass the compliment on to Chad.

I visit with, Karen, the shirt seller organizer, chat with Pat and Mike, general co-chairs of HAR, congratulate cast on good performances, track down lost props and run away performers, bug the lighting crew, shush loud talkers in the back of the house. Sometimes, a strange voice will come at me through the headset, at which point I alert everyone to the unauthorized person interloping on our equipment. We know it's just a cast member, or a curious, shy support person. I am surprised at how many people think that those of us with headsets are connected to all cast members, and can help them out if they forget their lines!

Other than that, there's nothing for me to do except watch my casts take the stage and play. For sure, I enjoy seeing them bring their crazy characters to life. Each night, they have a little more fun, and watching them never gets old for me. This year, my favorite skit was directed by Rick. It's called "Stand-up in Wonderland," and, as the name implies, its a bunch of puny jokes told by the White Rabbit, Goldilocks, and a terrifying ogre.

This is Solomon, (aka Coho Salmon) a frequent visitor to the sound booth. Coho has a cameo as the new mayor of Manitowoc. When he's not on stage, he runs errands for me, or listens to Dave rip on the guitar!

And now, for a clumsy segue...what am I reading? The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster. After twelve year in business, you would think I would be comfortable interpreting financial statements, especially when you consider how small a business we are. Nope. They still baffle me. While pouring over my March books, and ending up with the same questions I have every month, I heard the quiet voice of my grad school research stats prof. Years ago, she told me to read this book to calm my fear of numbers. I thought this the perfect time to dig in, but I must say, I am finding it more about language than numbers. Maybe I am just numb to that world. Fun book, with shade of Alice's Adventures in Wondrland, The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, and A Wrinkle in Time.

I am halfway through a movie that violates all my movies rule...but I like it and will watch the last half tonight.

Until next week...when your luck is batting zero, get your chins up off the floor.

Dog Bytes

Finally, the first edition of THE DOG BLOG! Aren't those people who anthroporphisize their animals silly? They put childish words and thoughts into their head, making them sound like hairy, little children, instead of the feeling creatures they are. Think about it...if you tickle us, do we not laugh...if you wrong us, do we not seek revenge? Oh, sorry, my person, You-Know-Who, (heretofore to be referred to YKW) just informed me that those line have already been taken by someone named Shakespeare in a thing he called The Merchant of Venice. Sorry if I haven't read it. The reality is that I can no more read a book than YKW can sing...but yet we both try!

Now, you are probably wondering how I got this chance to post. The truth is, YKW is all tied up with Heart-A-Rama, and hasn't been reading too much. I have beau coup time home alone with nothing to disturb my daily joy of following the sun around the house, and basking in its warmth. I have other responsibilities, of course, like polishing off a bowl of yummy dog food, and barking the birds off the deck. I'm making sure no bluebirds move into the house that was just put up, blocking my sight line into the neighbor's yard. If there is a leather shoe left anywhere on the floor, I must eat it. Other random duties arise during the day, and I attend to them as I see fit.

There's a comfy yellow chair in front of the windows that overlook the backyard. That is where YKW likes to read on Sunday mornings, on Monday nights, on Wednesday afternoons...basically anytime I have designs on that chair. I hop onto the seat, then to the arm. From there it is just a tiny leap to the back which is long enough and wide enough for me to stretch out upon. From this spot, I can watch the squirrels running across the fence, check out where the bunnies make their yard deposits, and, on lucky days, the window is open and I throw my head back and feel the breeze rush up my nostrils. Aren't nostrils wonderful!?! The chair was occupied a lot this weekend, and books are still on the seat, so I can't hop up today. Here is what I found:

Nice book about a little boy with a big dream. He wants to plant a garden along a railroad track where people think nothing can grow. His real dream is to fill the world with green - one garden at a time. I guess the writer was inspired by the development of gardens along an elevated railway in Manhattan.

The pictures are real pretty, and are perfect inspiration to help me prepare for flowers popping up for me to sniff.

I have no clue what this one is about, but it turned up right after YKW went away for an entire evening to see Garrison Keillor somewhere. The best part about this book is that since it appeared, I have been given a respite from the feeble attempts being made to sing show tunes at all hours of the day and night. Here's what the back says"

In the spring of 1926, the Soderbjerg brothers, Ray and Roy, plunge into radio and launch station WLT (With Lettuce and Tomato) to rescue their failing restaurant and become the Sandwich Kings of South Minneapolis. For the next quarter century, the "Friendly Neighbor" station produces a dazzling array of shows and stars, including Leo LaValley, Dad Benson, Wingo Beads, Slim Graves and Little Buddy, chain-smoking child star Marjery Moore, and blind baseball announcer Buck Steller.

Well, that's it for my first DOG BLOG. Better than a dog log, wasn't it? I was warned about using that line, but, hey, dogs rule, and I'm not backing down.

Don't forget to go the Heart-A-Rama. You can still get tickets for this Thursday, and for next Wednesday and Thursday. Just stop at Piggly Wiggly, or Inman Jewelers in Two Rivers. They'll set you up. Hey, even LaDeDa is waving the HAR flag. The show is funny, I am told. How often can you spend a night laughing for heart health? Come on...

where else can you see Judge Olson dressed like a big hot

dog, or check out a pre-pubescent photo of our new mayor?

How often do you get the chance to make a donation to

a charity and get something back in return?

This must be tons of fun, cuz each night, much to my chagrin, when YNW comes home, she is humming a snappy little tune. Tonight I will be waiting at the door for her. I will wag my tail and smile, pretenting to honor the sounds as music. I will usher her to the yellow chair, and place a brand new book at her feet. If I am lucky, the humming will end.

It's Twitter Time!...by guest Blogger, Steve Head

But first, a word from our sponsor!

At every turn, someone twitters or talks about tweets. Even the host of my addicting A.M. pseudo news shows are twittering...some while they are supposed to be talking to me, helping me to wake up, getting my morning started with a bright smile and some cheery story to start my day. Instead, they are pushing buttons before my eyes, and then the TV screen fills with a view of the tweeterer's computer screen, showing the *#%&^ tweets.

I adore Drew Barrymore - always have - ever since she played adorable Gertie in ET, but this morning, she solidified my adoration. She was supposed to promoting her new movie, "Grey Gardens." Instead, she did a Drewish rant on technology. She has no Facebook. She figures if she hasn't contacted someone in twenty years, there must be a reason. She still uses a yellow, rotary phone. And she will not Twitter. Even though the whole "Grey Gardens" concept disturbs me (saw enough of the documentary to determine that) I will go...because it's Drew. My bud!

Here's our guest blogger, Steve Head's, take on Twitter:

I had a boss the often used the line "you know you are _____when _____". Lately, I've been feeling "You know you are old when...". Even though I am a guy, and love electronics and gadgets, it took me a while to make the switch to CD's back in the 90's. And even though flat screen, digital TV's are five years old, I have not acquired one yet. I still use a cell phone I acquired in 2004 -no camera, browser, or jukebox included. PDA - had one - did not like it. IPod/MP3 player - not interested. I have not even tried teeth whitening so Blue Tooth is out of the question.

The introduction of the fax machine back whenever, was viewed as a revolutionary development. At first, it was used similar to long distance. For those old enough to remember - getting a long distance call probably meant bad news, and it was always expensive for the caller. Businesses purchased a single machine, and judiciously monitored usage. Then computer peripheral manufacturers bundled printer, scanner, and fax into a single device. Now fax machines are ubiquitous, and we can order coffee and bagels, apply for a loan, and make restaurant reservation without uttering a word to another human.

I recall my first mobile phone. It was big, came in a black leatherette bag, and plugged into my car lighter. In less than six months, it was an antique, and handheld units that hung from belts or were stored in purses were available. Like the fax machine, the cell phone went through a cycle starting with professional people and gadget freaks before exploding into an everyman essential. My first observation with this development was that most people's telephone conversations were trivial, annoying, and much too public. While I am not a fan of texting as it has perverted the language, it is much quieter and not in the least bit annoying unless you become the target of some text terrorist making threats or promises. Easy to block.

But the event that precipitated my "You know you are getting old when..." moment is the constant reference to "twitter" and "twittering". I am not entirely certain what this new faux communication method is all about, but the mere idea of being labeled a "twit" -i.e. "one who twitters" - is revolting. I accept being called a nerd, geek and old fart - reluctantly to that last one. But a "twit" is simply one label too far.

If ANY of these developments - fax, cell phone, texting, or twittering - have improved out ability to honestly and intelligently communicate with one another, to better appreciate and understand our similarities AND differences, to make this a better place to inhabit, I would sing their praises, sign petitions, and march in the street. My concern is they distract us with the trivial, contribute to the national attention deficit disorder, and foster alienation.

bout a year ago, I took a job at an institution with a "culture of greeting". That means when you encounter another person, you are expected to acknowledge them with a "Hi," "Morning," or similar greeting. Nothing elaborate or intrusive, even a smile may do. This small action has interesting results. It requires you to make eye contact, notice and register the other person for a moment, and share something. While it is not world peace, it is a move in a direction away from the depersonalization and isolation all our electronic gadgets provide under the guise of "communication".

I am getting old. And age should result in wisdom and not just antiquity. Although I do wonder at the consequences of disconnecting from the bullet-train of technology. Will I live long enough to see my entertainment technology become the equivalent of the 8-track tape?

I am getting old, and that is not a bad thing.

Coming next week...THE DOG BLOG!

Oh Joy!

Lorna Landvik showed up on my doorstep years ago...literally. Someone stuffed a copy of her first book Patty Jane's House of Curl, between my doors. A note, instructed me to "Drop everything and read this." Then the joker added, "I can't wait to hear what you thought." No signature. To this day, the phantom gift giver has not identified him/herself, but since this book comes up in random conversations I am assuming that my feelings about the story have been delivered. I remember enjoying the book, and I remember it making me think. Patty Jane opens a beauty/cultural salon in a small community that is not exactly resistant to her idea, but doesn't totally embrace it either.

Landvik continues to turn up here and there, and a few years back, our book group read Angry Housewives Eating Bon-Bons. That book, with the quirky title, came on the heels of Rebecca Wells' ever so popular Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya sisterhood. I figured Bon-Bons was just a knock-off of a pretty good book, but it turned out to be much better. Now we are reading Landvik's latest paperback release, The View From Mount Joy.

Let me tell you, after my recent fisticuffs with a Jodi Picoult Lifetime Movie script, (oops, I mean a Jodi Picoult novel!) I wasn't all that anxious to pick up another novel riddled with obvious social awareness. But, I settled in Saturday night, and kept turning those pages. Landvik has never disappointed me. She's tricky, and that's one reason I like her. Her titles set you up to think they are going to be light...marginally stupid...works best meant for rainy afternoons, or to fill that spare 45 minutes you find yourself with when reality TV wears thin..

Not even close! Landvik skillfully builds upon day-to-day occurrences, often told through the voice of a witty narrator, relating the story in a memory-like manner. Those events become the foundation upon which she constructs subtle, issue oriented plots. Her titles and plot scenarios do not announce: HERE COMES A BOOK THAT WILL STUN YOU WITH DETAILS ABOUT A CURRENT, DEBATABLE SOCIAL ISSUE OF WHICH WE MUST ALL BE AWARE AND MUST ALL HAVE AN OPINION...THE OPINION OF THE AUTHOR BEING PREFERRED!

Through multi-dimensional characters, and realistic events, Landvik develops more esoteric themes. The concept of joy is central to the book we are reading. Early on in the novel, a private family issue prompts a mother and son to discuss what it means to have an open heart. The mom offers several, common sense definitions including being glad for others' happiness, allowing people to embrace what they feel is important, and not letting what happens in life make you bitter."

More on this later, but, speaking of bitter......I'm sure you all saw the wonderful article Noelle Rulseh wrote about our store in Sunday's HTR...accompanied by the photo I have titled "The Double Chin Disaster." In case you missed it, I have included it to fulfil your daily laughter requirement. Oh well. That's my chin. Talking with Noelle got me thinking about how things have changed since we opened in 1996. Do you remember (why would you?) any of the best sellers from that year? I'll help you out. 5 Days in Paris by Danielle Steele, The Horse Whisperer by Nicholas Evans, and Miss America by Howard Stern. Also earning high marks that year were books by Clive Cussler, William Bennett, Ellen DeGeneres, Ann Rice, Mary Higgins Clark, Stephen King, James Renfield, and Colin Powell.

*****From the front page of the Heart-A-Rama Gazette*****

We move into the Community House in Two Rivers on Sunday, set up, and gear up. Dress rehearsals are Sunday and Monday, and we open on Thursday. How did this happen so quickly? Was it really in June that we met to pick a theme? Did we really finish writing our musical and tweener skits by the end of October? And now...Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Heart-A-Rama 2009! Unbelievable. I can't wait!

*****We've got a review from Steve on deck, but Blogger is being uppity and won't let him post today. Stay tuned!

This should help cleanse your palette from the scary chin picture. My little friend, Jacob turned two a few weeks back and stopped to share a birthday cupcake with me. Today, I was surprised and happy to receive a funny little picture of Jacob in his birthday mask.

Old Friends and New

A couple old friends stumbled across the blog last week, and they surprised me with pictures, and details of what they are up to. The first email came from Katie, a former student. Katie was one of those kids that just had a unique vibe about her. She was an explorer - open to whatever we had to offer, and she excelled. Katie was a musician, a writer, and a thespian. But, even bigger than that, Katie was insightful beyond her years, judicious in the people she allowed into her life, and amazingly tolerant, and even accepting, of those who did not share her views...and believe me, there were many. For a while, she found quiet space in my classroom before the first bell, to read from her Bible. Katie has finished college, had done a retail gig, worked in radio, and is currently in divinity school.

The second note actually came from Katie's mom, Judy. She read my post about the great bluebird hunt and shared the photo at the top with me. Her daughter Amy has a pooch, Olly, who is carrying on a love affair with the bluebird you see at the window. Each day, the bird flies head first into the window, before settling in to gaze into Olly's eyes for hours on end. What fun!

On the new friend front, this is Corrie, getting all gussied up for her role as Lily in Heart-A-Rama. She looks quite happy for someone about to be married to a frog, wouldn't you say? We have given Corrie the great HAR newcomer challenge - three skits in a row. That means casting all modesty aside and changing backstage amid mingling cast and crew. Now, don't go getting the idea that the scene-behinders look forward to these quick change shows. Seasoned cast think nothing of this exercise, throwing one costume off with reckless abandon. Some even relish the opportunity to be sans suit in order to cool off from the hot lights and on-stage anxiety, before suiting up for the next bit. But for a new person, there is sure to be trepidation. I hear that Corrie is hard at work building a personal, little dressing room that will fit snugly into a backstage corner, and serve as a quick change retreat! My guess is that the changes are so fast she will have people tugging at her clothes the minute she steps out of the light. This girls doesn't stand a chance of getting to use her little dressing room. Watch for her (in three in a row) and in the show finale. She sings, she dances, she acts up nicely, and has taken to our brand of wackiness quicker than anyone I can recall.

Each year, I have two simple goals for HAR: 1. to cast at least one new person in my skits, and 2. to get to know one cast member a little better. These perks are what it's about, that, and knowing that the group is doing so much good. After the show ends, after the sets are packed, after the bills are paid, we get to puff up and send lots of money to the American Heart Association - usually $100,000,00 or more. We have general ideas on how the money is used, but we seldom know, specifically, how our efforts have changed lives. Occassionally, someone will slip quietly into the dressing room, or seek out one of the event chairs to share a story of a surgery or other intervention that saved a life. We just never know, but that kind of not-knowing if OK.

We just never know how we fit into the picture others have been painting. Hearing from Katie and her mom was one of those feel-good things. In addition to sharing personal updates, they spoke a bit about my teaching days. Amid the day-to-day business of planning, deciding, teaching, organizing, grading, and the many other things a teacher does each day, you just don't have time to stop and ask if you are doing the most important job of all...inspiring! I would like to think that there were a few moments in my career when I did that.

But hey, Katie, if you're reading this, thanks for keeping me on my toes. You challenged me, and demanded the best of me each day. And, do me a favor, keep surprising people from your past - you just never how meaningful that is!

*****Just for or kicks and giggles.......

This is Connie, out Heart-A-Rama pianist. Connie's camera shy, and this is the best shot I have gotten of her for you. I'll keep trying. Connie claims to be a "mediocre" musician. Boy, I would love to be as mediocre as she is at something.