The Play’s the Thing

One of my favorite television shows this season is Parenthood. The season finale last Tuesday was pre-empted by a storm watch party on the local station, but I was able to see it a couple of days later on nbc.com. (thankyouverymuch)

This is a story about the Braverman family, parents played by Craig T. Nelson and Bonnie Bedelia, and their four grown children – who have children of their own. This series makes the most of the dynamics in a large family who love and support each other but on the other hand, are individuals who handle things differently. I grew up in a large family and I love this concept for an ensemble show.  I was a faithful viewer the first season of Brothers and Sisters … before they went wacko.

One of the current sub-plots is about the oldest daughter, Sarah (played by Lauren Graham). She writes a play. Just stays up all night one night and gets it done.  Her father, Zeek (Nelson), unbeknownst to her, sends the play (unedited? in longhand?) to a former friend who happens to be the greatest playwright in the whole world. (This is a cameo part played by Richard Dreyfuss). Said friend loves the play, but since he is sort of retired and out of the show business loop, he is eager to connect Sarah up with a producer who is absolutely top dog.  At first Top Dog is not interested but when Sarah charmingly accosts him at a dressy fundraiser, he agrees to at least read her play.

Guess what. He likes it too. Then, in the time in takes a rebellious teen to be involved in a car wreck and recover except for a few scabs on her face, the play is up. The season finale ends at the staged reading of Sarah’s play. All the Bravermans are there and from the looks of it, half the town.  The play is obviously going to be a hit and while this isn’t said, Sarah is probably set for life financially.

That’s why I like this show … because, oh yes. That’s exactly how it happens.

LEAVE A REPLY

Retreating

Often when you ask someone about the retreat, conference, vacation or any event they may have attended, the response is: Wonderful, hard to describe, you should have been there. You missed a fabulous (fill in the blank). Then they turn to someone and say, “Wasn’t it wonderful? Did you see abc? Wasn’t xyz funny?”  When that happens to me I find that I either wish I had been there, wish they had not been there or wish I had never opened the subject.

All that being said, I spent the past three days at Hemingway Pfeiffer Creative Writers Retreat in Piggott, Arkansas.  On the grounds of the H-P Museum and Educational Center is the barn studio where Ernest Hemingway wrote portions of A Farewell to Arms. (More info at http://hemingway.astate.edu) It was wonderful. I shall attempt to describe it and you can decide for yourself if you should have been there.

First of all, this was not so much a retreat as a workshop. We (16 of us) met at 9:00 am with the professional mentor, Roland Mann. (rolandmann.wordpress.com) We began with instruction, then we tackled a writing exercise followed by reading and discussing our work. Several of us had an opportunity for one-on-one mentoring. We had a working lunch and continued on until 4:00, when we broke for supper and returned for two more hours of evening classes.  This was a 25 hour workshop jammed into 3 days.

There are two diners in Piggott where they serve generous portions at a reasonable price.  Several of us took our evening meal there. The food is delicious and I could feel my left ventricle closing a little more with every bite. After the evening session we crashed in our room at The Downtown Inn, a delightful bed and breakfast.  My head was spinning, trying to sort through how to use what I had learned and incorporate it into my current work.

We had limited connection to internet and while there was TV in our room, we never turned it on.  Therefore I came home Saturday afternoon a little out of touch with world affairs.  I thought I should catch up. It was past the hour for network news, so I turned to CNN. An anchor man I didn’t recognize was nervously adjusting his lapel mic. “We don’t know what happened,” he said. “But the President is all right.”

I sat up in my chair. What?

The picture then flashed to familiar footage of Secret Service agents wrestling John Hinkley to the ground. The voice-over saying, “. . . as President Reagan was rushed away to the nearest hospital . . .”  Good grief! I had joined the programming of a retrospective about the Reagan years.  Be still my heart.

So, that’s it. I think you’ll have to agree that the “retreat” was wonderful. And hard to describe so that you might appreciate it as I did.  Should you have been there?

LEAVE A REPLY

Spring Break!

I work for an education service cooperative and one of the benefits is that we take a spring break with the school districts. So, for the past week I have been on a ‘stay-cation.’

My usual ritual during a normal work week is to set my alarm early enough to allow at least an hour of reading and writing before leaving the house. Therefore, one of the major perks of time off from work is that I can sleep later, wake without alarm, and still read and write before I start the day’s projects. I have enjoyed seven wonderful days of this relaxing schedule.

My big project for the week was to clean files and throw away/shred old documents. This took up a good part of every day because I can’t get rid of anything without looking at it. This created side projects of organizing the stuff I need/want to keep.

The Saturday that began my Spring Break was the night of the big moon. I suppose I had missed the announcement of this happening and as I arrived home after dark, I noticed the full moon looked especially large and bright. My first thought was, “Full moon. The crazies are out tonight.” The word ‘lunatic’ comes from the same root as ‘lunar,’ as people once thought the full moon had something to do with strange behavior. Scientists will tell you that is absolutely not so. But, I managed a crisis call line for ten years and I can find several mental health professionals who will argue the point.

Early in the week, Elizabeth Taylor died. She was 79 and had many health problems. Once an interviewer mentioned her several marriages and she replied, “I get married because I don’t shack up.” RIP, Elizabeth.

On Friday of Spring Break, I pulled out the electric heater and afghan I had put away on Monday. I made a pot of soup. The 75 ° sunny had turned to 45° rain.

One day, I enjoyed hanging out with my youngest son, Phil, eating lunch at my favorite restaurant in Searcy and arranging with Hastings to stock my book (To Find a Home) and host a book-signing in May. (More about that later.)

I didn’t watch much TV during the week at home. Alas, that used to be my favorite time-waster. But the quality of programming has deteriorated so badly. Most programs I haven’t already seen are not of interest to me.  TV programmers don’t seem to be interested in my demographic. I would discontinue cable all together but when my children visit there are usually sporting events they want to see.  I did watch some March Madness and a couple of movies.

The Third Wish was billed as starring Betty White, however she had only a small supporting role (but she had the biggest name). The primary roles were taken by Jenna Mattison and Sean McGuire. If you like Julia Roberts, Hugh Grant, Pretty Woman, Notting Hill, —  or for that matter Great Expectations — you probably wouldn’t care for this movie.

Keith, an independent film starring Elisabeth Harnois and Jesse McCartney was entertaining enough. If you liked A Walk to Remember you might like this movie, but you probably can’t find it at Red Box.

At the end of the day (or week) it was a very satisfying, restful and productive 7 days. I checked most of my to-dos off the list and — the most telling sign of a good vacation — I’m ready to go back to work on Monday.

LEAVE A REPLY

From a Writer’s Heart

I love books. I own many books. I have full bookcases in the guest room, the upstairs entry, the living room and two in the hall.  I don’t have room for a book shelf in my room, so I stack odd titles on the table near my bed.  There are texts arranged “attractively” on the stairs and other spots throughout the house. Once I own a book, I have a difficult time turning loose of it. Oh, I can pass it on to a friend or relative, someone I know will give it a good home, but when it comes to putting a copy in a yard sale, there is some separation anxiety involved. Last time he visited, my son Steve asked if I had ever seen the reality TV show “Hoarders.” I told him to mind his own business.

Even though I have plenty of books and haven’t yet read them all, each time I visit a flea market or thrift store I am drawn to the shelves of fiction and non-fiction. Thus my discovery at the new Goodwill Store in Cabot, Arkansas.  From their limited selection I picked up Anna Quindlen’s A Short Guide to a Happy Life. Then I saw a colorful book that looked familiar . . . ah, yes, I have that book . . . it’s a journal!

I pulled it off the shelf – Reflections From a Mother’s Heart – A Family Legacy for Your Children. My daughter, Kathy, had given me an copy of this journal of prompts about ten years ago.  Each page contains an open response question: Who gave you your name and why? Describe your childhood home. What was the hardest thing you ever had to do?  These guides are intended to bring out “Your life story in your own words.”

I opened the book. “Rita” had filled out the “Personal Portrait” page – names of parents, siblings and children, likes and dislikes. I closed the cover. I shouldn’t be reading this. I opened again and  flipped the pages. Several had writing; the journal less than half complete.

How did this volume of Rita’s private thoughts come to be in the Goodwill Store? Did she become discouraged and decide to discard it unfinished? If that were the case, I can see putting it in the shredder perhaps. Maybe Rita died and there was no one who cared to keep her written thoughts even for sentimental reason. But, again, why not use the shredder rather than put her words out for the idly curious to read? Maybe the book is here by accident – inadvertently put in a box of other books to be recycled and resold.

I brought the journal home. Though the clues are scant, I’m of a mind to try to find a family member who wants this journal, values Rita’s words. But, if I discover the book did not arrive at the Goodwill Store by accident, that it was carelessly tossed away with the bulk of Rita’s personal belongings, how will I feel about that? I don’t know. I think I will be sad.

In the meantime: Rest in peace, Rita. Your journal is safe with me.

LEAVE A REPLY

Bye Bye Blackbird

It’s time for me to weigh in on the bird happenings in Beebe. I mentioned this in my first post of 2011 – two months ago. But this past week National Geographic Channel spent four days in town filming a segment of a documentary about wildlife deaths around the globe, bringing a camera crew and an ornithologist, a bird expert, with them. This has caused citizens to revisit the mystery again.

When 5,000 blackbirds fell from the sky on December 31, 2010 within a one mile area of the Winwood neighborhood, questions abounded. Men in hasmat suits picked up the birds while telling the residents all was well. Early theories were: lightening struck the birds; a mighty wind shear drove them to the earth; freezing temperatures aloft caused the birds to die from hypothermia; and they were offed by chemtrails.

“The chemtrail conspiracy theory holds that some trails left by aircraft are actually chemical or biological agents deliberately sprayed at high altitudes for a purpose undisclosed to the general public in clandestine programs directed by government officials. The existence of chemtrails has been repeatedly denied by government agencies and scientists around the world, who say the trails are normal contrails. The US Air Force maintains that the theory is a hoax . . .” (Wikipedia)

Within days the official cause of death was named. Blunt force trauma. Well, the birds did hit the ground after all. But what made them fall? The next projection was that the trauma happened when the birds panicked and flew around bumping into houses, trees, telephone poles and each other. So the question arose, why did they go berserk and leave their roost in the middle of the night, fly into each other and fall onto rooftops, into hedges and bushes and into the middle of the street? “They” had an answer for that, too. Fireworks. The birds were frightened by the New Year’s celebratory popping sounds in the neighborhood. Not your daddy’s firecrackers – industrial strength fireworks. Loud.

Now here’s where I have to suspend disbelief. First of all, a friend who lives in the neighborhood and had a yard full of dead birds on January 1 heard no such mammoth fireworks. Every July 4 is filled with rockets and Roman candles with never a report of injured birds. Also, each fall the Beebe Badgers play football not far from the trees where blackbirds sleep. Several times each Friday night (if we’re lucky) there is a cannon shot when the home team scores. That boom bothers my dog, a quarter mile away, but so far as I know it has never frightened a bird out of its roost.

But on the other hand, regarding the bumping into each other theory, I have noticed that blackbirds don’t fly very well. They don’t line up like geese, say, and choose a leader and proceed in an orderly manner. Nor do they travel alone or in small groups like robins or martins that arrive in your yard singly or in pairs. Blackbirds gang up and take off and go every which way.  It’s kind of like watching NASCAR . . . with wings. And I suppose, just like NASCAR, they could run into each other.

Here are some odd bits of information learned this week: One tenth (10%) of all the blackbirds in the United States live in Beebe, Arkansas; PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) wrote a letter to the Beebe City Council requesting they make it illegal to ever shoot fireworks in Beebe (residents are allowed to use fireworks to celebrate Independence Day and New Year’s Day) lest there be more bird deaths; the council “ignored” the request; dead birds are still found occasionally in the yards of Winwood residents. The theory around this last item is that the birds were injured in the big smash up and (after having survived 10 inches of snow in February) are now dying sixty days later.

As a local writer commented, “It will be interesting to see if their (NatGeo Channel) filming here will bring any more clarity as to what actually happened.” (Lee McLane, The Beebe News) However, the consensus of those who took part in my limited, unscientific survey (my friends and co-workers) is, “We’ll never know.  It will be like those goings-on in New Mexico in the Fifties or the assassination of John F. Kennedy.” Many people have so little faith in the media or government officials at every level to tell the truth that they doubt everything that is said. And that’s just sad.

[photo by Thomas Hudson, Arkansas Democrat Gazette]

LEAVE A REPLY