roar of the greasepaint, smell of the crowd

The Time Warp is upon me, and I don't mean "...a step to the right."

Flashback to 1978 (use the 'shrooms, it'll help). I begin my fledgling stage career as a chorus member in a high school production of "Once Upon a Mattress." Fun, but not really what I had in mind as an actor - where are the accolades?

1979 - senior year: I work as the understudy to the devil in "Damn Yankees." Got one time on stage when he had the flu. Ah, that's more like it...applause, yes, thank you, thank you.

1982 - back to the chorus in "Cinderella." What - no handsome prince?

1983 - Yes!! I am cast as the bad guy, the ne'r-do-well, the evil Harry Beaton in "Briggadoon." And I die in the second act! Spewing stage blood from my mouth, I am carried to the stage and laid out for the village to see. Delicious! Give me more!

Sadly, that theater went under and I became an out of work actor. Until...

1992 - Yes! I've still got it! Cast once again as a villianous character, the Russian constable in "Fiddler on the Roof." I get to smoke a pipe, carry burning torches, and kick the Jews out of Anatevka! I audition for more roles, but time, family, and not wanting to travel 30 miles both ways just for a chorus position keep me off stage. Until...

2009 - At the urging of my family and friends, I audition for a play I have never heard of and no nothing about. "It will be good for you" they say. "You need some creative outlet" I'm told. "Get the hell out of the house and go already" the Wife says.

I spend a few weeks reading the script a home - "The Foreigner" by Larry Shue. Funny stuff - part British farce, part comedy of errors. Small cast, several juicy roles for men. I settle on trying out for one of the leads, Froggy, a British military demolitions expert. After watching "My Fair Lady" several times, I head out, confident in my lines and my accent (The rine in Spine fawls minely awn the pline).

2 hours of cold readings from the script. Working with people I don't know. Read this. Go here. Thank you, next. Woof - and you thought teachers got butterflies on the first day of school!

Then, last night, the phone rings. "We were really impressed with your stage energy and your ability to hold a cockney accent for so long. We'd like to offer you the role, if you're interested."

No, I'm not interested - the whoopin' and hollerin' you hear is just my way of saying no. Of F'ing course I'm interested!

So now, instead of reading the latest James Bond novel or hitting the theaters for the debacle that is G.I. Joe, I've got my nose to a scriptbook, sitting on the lawn, sipping lemonade. Rehearsals start in two weeks - just about the time I've got to go back to school and remember how to teach English. And I couldn't be happier.

milestones

Happy Birthday Anthony. Today you turn 18 and become an adult in the eyes of the world. Your mom and I are very proud of you and all you have done so far, and we have great hopes for you in the future. I still remember holding you in my arms the day you were born, screaming for all you were worth, making your presence known. My hands trembled a little as I cut the umbilical cord and spoke your name for the first time. We discussed your name for a long time - we wanted something strong, but did not want to name you after anyone in the family, lest we get besieged from either side. So, we took your name from a book I had read, the character being the sworn protector of the future king of an empire. Fitting, since you spend much of your time watching your younger brothers!

As you grew and matured, your personality began to show...impulsive, excitable, intelligent, and very VERY funny. It was only natural that in your final years of high school that you joined the theater and improv groups, and became one of their stars. I can only hope you continue sharing your gifts with others.

We are equally proud of you becoming an Eagle Scout. In a world where many young people turn to drugs, violence, and apathy, you have become a leader of others, sharing your knowledge of what is right/wrong with younger boys, becoming an example of how to do the right thing.

Yes, we have our differences - all people do. You and I butt heads more times than I would like. But know that we are always here for you and will support you as best we can.

Congratulations son. We love you.

happy shiny neighbors

Every neighborhood has its pros and cons. Good location, friendly neighbors, nearby gang activity, overabundance of a particular ethnic group, chickens running free next door. I tend to think that my NB is pretty nice. The people are pleasant, the yards look nice - typical suburbia. I don't mind much of the crap that goes on, as long as it doesn't affect me too much.

However - when I know kids are in the 'hood, and little ones at that, I expect my neighbors to comport themselves accordingly: don't drive like Andretti, don't swear like a sailor on leave in public, keep broken bottles/trash out of the yards...the easy stuff.

So imagine my surprise to see a sign in a yard that said, in BIG BLACK MARKER:

"Don't Shit in My Yard"

Yeah - I know, dog owners can be stupid. And this guy probably has had his share of poo bombs left on the porch. However - his front yard slopes. Steep. It's covered in iceplant. And it's about 3 feet deep. Not so much a yard as a landing strip, and most dogs I see pass it by.

Now, the sign itself would not matter too much (free speech and all). However - my kids play across the street. Lots of kids play near that house. And Wife was livid. So, being the Dutiful Dad, I sauntered up to the door to ask politely if the sign could be removed. Hmmmm - now I know how the sign got such a potty mouth.

So, last night, Kid #1 and Wife made a commando raid to the house to remove the sign in the dead of night. It went out with the trash today. And our daily dog walks will be passing that house regularly to make sure no further vulgarity threatens our children.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to our family TV hour - it's time for True Blood.