Life Lessons on the Tens

Actually, there does seem to be an unspoken age restriction. As I have gotten older, I have had to work harder to stay in the flow, so to speak, and to believe that I can accomplish whatever I put my mind to. Change becomes more difficult because one has more to loose (potentially) and with greater risk. One feels less resilient, less flexible, more attached to routine and habit. I watched this in my parents, thought them the fool, but have gradually seen the same in me.

But I have also calmed down, discovered and like who I am, have belief systems, have faith in my abilities to deal with the ups and downs of being alive.

I have shared this previously, but recently the topic came up again. I have added the 10's, 20',s and 30's in retrospect. My lessons in life, which came on the 10's are:

10: I hate school. I hate my classmates. I hate my parents. I hate my life. Men turn me on but I do not understand this (and there are no role models to help.)

20: When will puberty hit? I am still waiting. Who am I anyway? I do not know what I think, I do not know what I believe, I do not know who I am. I love college but hate studying and tests. I am still attracted to Men, there are very few role models, but I know how to hook up!

30: Finally graduated college, love teaching, love my life as an adult. Growing up late or mid-life crisis early. Quit teaching. Run away to Mexico. Work at discovering who I am. I am comfortable with my sexuality.

40: Life is linear. Some choices have to be left behind and there is no going back to those intersections. Your entire life is still ahead of you. Use it well!

50:  Life has a beginning, a middle, and an end. Most of your life is still ahead of you. Use it well!

60: In life, there is here and there is the here-after. So live for the here and try not to worry too much about the here-after. A lot of life is still ahead of you. Use it well!

70: Come back in 1.5 years to find out what I discover ��

At the Opera

Saw Renee Fleming a while back in Handel's Alcina at The Lyric Opera of Chicago. I was supering at the time in the Miller/Balcolm/Weinstein's world premier of "View from the Bridge."

After Alcina I went backstage to see if I could get an autograph on two CDs I brought along. I got in line at her dressing room door with my friend Sharon, behind four or five other couples. When Ms. Fleming had changed she opened her door and began greeting people.

When it was our turn she looked at me like, "Do I know you?" and I explained that I was a super for the Lyric and was currently in “View from the Bridge.” I introduced myself and my friend Sharon and told Ms. Fleming how much I enjoyed her performance.

I asked if I could please impose on her for an autograph knowing how exhausted she must be from the difficult role of Alcina.  She was very gracious, explained away any exhaustion compared to the joy of the performance and having people come to see her back stage. She even remembered my name as she signed the CD I had handed her, “To Michael, A Fellow Opera Lover. With Affection, Renee Fleming."

She told me that she would be at the final performance of "Bridge" and asked me about my part. The next night after the final “Bridge” performance the stage back lobby was filled with all kinds of important people and press due to the world premier significance of the opera.

As I was leaving through the lobby, Renee Fleming called out, “Michael,” as she came running towards me and grabbed my hands in hers, “You were wonderful. What an opera! I enjoyed it so much.” I thanked her and we exchanged “opera kisses.” 

Can you imaging how impressed my fellow supers were?

February 8, 2009

Our Kitty is Old Now

(This story is written for a child's point of view.)

Our kitty is old now. Not sure how he got that way but before we knew it, he was old. It is a good thing that you and I are not getting any older! Hoover is 19 years old. For a cat, that is pretty old, although sometimes cats can live to be 25 years old.

One day, many years ago, while out on a walk in the neighborhood, we passed a pet shop where we saw him in the window. We went back to the pet shop two more times and played with him to make sure he was the kitty we wanted. We paid fifty dollars and took our kitty home.

He is a “tabby.” His coat is gray and streaked with dark stripes. His fur is thick, luxurious, and feels like velvet. His tail is ringed with circles of black fur from his hind end to his tail end. His eyes are dark, circled with white and then ringed with a black line. His nose is outlined with white, as is his muzzle. He has a dark “M” on his gray forehead.

They say that cats have three names. The one you give them, the one they pick, and the one you’ll never know.

His face is beautiful. That is one of his names, Sheyna Punim, which means Beautiful Face in Yiddish. Hoover. That is his second name, the one we usually call him. He wasn’t named after the president or after the vacuum cleaner. He was named after the school nurse I worked with. Her name was Kitty Hoover. No fooling! Probably her first name was Kathleen but we all called her Kitty. So now I had a Kitty Hoover of my own! His third name, well…

When Hoover was a little baby, he would sleep at the top of the bed between the two pillows. Sometimes when we would take a nap together, he would put his paw in mine and we would both doze off holding hands.

He could chase his tail for hours, loved running after a ball with a bell in it, and would stalk a toy mouse lurking under the sofa forever.

We had a toy fish that was connected by a string to the end of a fishing pole. Hoover loved to jump up and try to catch the fish. He could jump really high into the air. He was really good at catching the fish.

As he grew older, he decided that he wanted to be an outdoor cat. While he loved being indoors with us, he preferred being outdoors with nature. He slept under the bushes, strolled around the neighborhood, basked in the sun, and chased birds, squirrels, and rabbits.

Sometimes he caught a small animal and ate it for dinner. While that might sound yucky or sad, it is what cats do when allowed. In fact, animals in the wild usually eat smaller animals when they are hungry. That is just the way it is.

During good weather, he would spend all day and all night outside. He would come home when we whistled his special whistle. Sometimes he came home to stay for the night, other times he came home just to eat some of his cat food and then would go out again.

During bad weather, he liked to go outside anyway. He would stay out for a while then come to the door and announce in his loudest meow voice, “Let me in!” And one of us would.

He loved to hang out while you were working in the garden. He would lie in the sun and watch you dig holes, fill the holes with plant food, put the flowers in place. Sometimes he would help you dig!

When you were sitting on a lawn chair eating your lunch or reading a book, he would jump up and sit in your lap to keep you company.

Then one day before we knew it, so it seemed, he was old. Now he spends most of his time sleeping on the towel on the sofa in the living room. He doesn’t run as fast anymore and walks up and down the stairs more slowly. We think his hips hurt him.

He started having eye problems and eventually became blind. This is also known as “visually challenged.” We think he can see shadows and light or dark, but either way, he has trouble seeing. He knew his way around the house before, so he can still get around from memory and by feeling and smelling his way.

His hearing got worse so he can’t hear us whistle his special whistle. When it is time for him to come in, we have to go out to find and bring him into the house. He meows to let us know he wants something but in a much louder voice, because he cannot not hear himself. He is now almost totally deaf. This is also known as “hearing impared.”

Unable to see or hear, he has become an indoor cat. We have decided that it is not a good idea to let him outside anymore. We think he is slowly getting used to the change but he still goes to the door and announces that he wants to go out. He meows really loudly, we are patient, and he eventually gives up.

Sometimes, because he cannot hear or see, he sits in the middle of the room and yowls. We think it is because he is not sure where he is or if anyone else is around. When you go up to pet him he gets startled because you took him by surprise. He doesn’t hear or see you coming.

When you touch him, he jumps but he isn’t nervous for long. He loves when you pet him and when he realizes that is why you are there, he is one happy cat and begins to purr. He lies there while you pet him, and pet him, and pet him. In fact you will get tired out from petting him long before he will ever gives up being petted.

Besides the problems he has, he seems pretty happy. He enjoys eating, sleeping, roaming around the house, and having you pet him.

The interesting thing about animals is that they do not spend most of their life worrying about the future. Hoover never wasted a moment thinking he might become blind or deaf. It just happened slowly over time and he got used to it. He doesn’t sit around the house all day thinking “Poor me, poor me, oh woe is poor me.” He just does the best he can and has adjusted pretty well to his new life.

My guess is that he does not sit around and worry about dying some day. We worry about it a little and will miss him when he is gone but have learned many lessons from him and he will live on in our memory.

We have learned not to worry about those things that your cannot change. We have learned not to feel sorry for ourselves when we are having difficulties in life or problems with health. We have learned that our life can change and we can still enjoy ourselves. Most of all, we have learned that love is the best thing to have and to give and that nothing can take that away. We love our kitty and he loves us.

Written: May 19, 2007

Post Script June 1, 2007 – Hoover passed away peacefully today. Announcements of his death went out to family and friends who responded with an outpouring of sympathy and fond memories. Doctor Fox (yes, a fox takes care of our cats) made a contribution in Hoover’s name to the research department of the University of Illinois Veterinary School. Hoover will be missed.

Dandelions

Dandelions used to be weeds

Oh they used to be quite ugly
Their greasy stems with yellow heads
Eventually turning into white wisps

Then blowing and tumbling in the wind
To plant themselves here and there
In every nook and corner and sidewalk crack

Now that we moved to the condo
No longer needing to cut the grass
No longer needing to pull the weeds

Dandelions spread yellow spring time joy
On parkways, over lawns, in fields
Beautiful sunflower yellow in abundance

Dandelions are pretty flowers

What Does A Writer Do?

My friend Stephanie Kallos shared this on her facebook page. It is a beautfully written account of what writers do. Her two books prove that while a lonely profession, writing is a miracle when done well. I've posted links to AMAZON so you can look more closely at her work.

Stephanie's "Broken For You"

Stephanie's "Sing Them Home"

Several years ago, when I was working on my second novel, my younger son came up to my office, settled on my lap, put an arm around my shoulders, and asked, with great solemnity, “Mom, what do you do when you’re being a writer?”

Normally when my boys pay me an office visit, it is to ask questions like, "What’s for dinner?" "Can I play computer?" "Mind if I watch TV?" or, more recently, "Can you give me a ride to the mall to Café Pho/Jimmy Johns/Five Guys?" So I was thrilled by Sam’s sudden interest in the solitary life of his writer mom.

I don’t remember my exact response, but it was probably something like, “Well, I think about the characters in my book as if they’re real people. I try to imagine what clothes they wear, what foods they eat, what movies they watch…” In short, I tried to explain (in a way that a six-year-old boy might understand) that – on a 24/7 basis – novelists are essentially engaged in practicing a benign form of schizophrenia.

Very soon I realized the futility of this attempt and sputtered to a halt – noting that Sam’s eyes had glazed over and he was foraging around in my desk drawer, probably looking for the box of Peeps that the Easter Bunny had deposited on my desk a few days earlier.

“So,” I concluded, “that’s what I do…kind of…when I’m being a writer.”

“Oh,” Sam remarked. “Well…okay then.”

I retrieved the Peeps. “Would you like these, buddy? You can share them with Noah if you want.”

“Sure! Thanks! See you later!” Sam hot-footed it downstairs, having made the vital discovery that whatever his mother did when she was being a writer wasn’t nearly as exciting as crashing Hot Wheels cars with his brother or driving to Krispy Kreme with his dad and that he could definitely eliminate being a writer from his list of potential careers.

I tell this story as a reminder that the writer’s life is characterized by an exotic – but terrifically unglamorous – solitude.

I’m always amused by attempts to portray writers on film. There’s not a lot of compelling narrative in the working life of authors. We sit. We stare. We putter. We pace. We pour coffee. We tweeze our chin whiskers. We examine ourselves in bathroom mirrors and contemplate the appropriateness of our wardrobe choices.

Eventually, we get down to business. We locate the glue that allows us to apply the seat of our pants to the seat of our chairs for an extended period of time. We begin moving our hands in the service of thought, in the blind hope of conjuring magic.

Writing, more than anything, is a spiritual act, a discipline of faith. To paraphrase Stephen King, we have to trust that we’re doing good work, even when it often feels like all we’re managing is to shovel shit from a sitting position. Writing requires us to exile ourselves to the private islands of our imaginations (in which case I suppose Mr. King would have us shoveling sand) and stay there until we have something of value, some treasure to ferry to the mainland: to you, our audience.

It is a tricky thing, balancing that necessary solitude with a sense of community and belonging. For writers desperately need the community of other writers; it is my belief that one cannot sustain a writing life without it.

On the one hand, as John Green says, “Writing is a profession for introverts who want to tell you a story but don’t want to make eye contact while doing it.” But on the other, writers need to be part of a circle of fellow authors with whom they can commiserate and grow - and to whom they can feel connected as they return, time and again, to their private islands.

This group of writers gathered for the first time on February 1st at a reception in Jack Straw's large recording studio. When the six o’clock start time arrived, I was still upstairs, finishing up a staff meeting. Around 6:15, Program Coordinator Levi Fuller entered the room. He looked worried.

“You’d better get down there,” he said, ominously. “They’re being awfully quiet.”

And indeed, in the studio I discovered a group of people, obvious strangers, interspersed among the circle of folding chairs, avoiding eye contact, sipping cups of sparkling water and nibbling noiselessly on green grapes and string cheese. It was a little like walking into a Junior High School dance.

But as the evening wore on, and each writer read their work, and shared themes and preoccupations began to emerge, tongues loosened, laughter burst forth, and by the end of the evening conversations were flowing freely: a community was born. Over the months, it has been a joy to watch that community grow and deepen, nurtured by monthly potlucks and group free-writes and performance opportunities.

There are many lenses through which one can view the work that will be presented by these writers in performance on May 3rd, 10th, and 17th. But I find myself struck by the many ways in which these authors are exploring the theme of isolation in its many forms:

You will hear of the loneliness of scientist fathers and new-minted mothers; of the preacher’s son, the theatre stage hand, the street musician. You will make a solitary pilgrimage up Manhattan Island with a nurse. You will stand in the shoes of people marginalized by poverty, race, sexual identity, and grief, and witness all the cunning, quirky, grave, and courageous ways they survive.

Welcome to the community of the 2103 Jack Straw Writers. It is my great pleasure to introduce you to these brave island-dwellers and the treasures they have harvested for you.

Documenting Your Life

According to Webster’s Dictionary, a document is a piece of written, printed, or electronic matter that provides information or evidence or that serves as an official record. Documenting is the process of writing or recording something. Documentation is material that provides official information or evidence or that serves as a record. The word comes from Latin “documentum” for lesson or proof and from “docere” to teach.

Jenny Schrider (the designer of Michael's Museum at Chicago Children's Museum on Navy Pier) and I talked about the fact that the documentation, in museum practices, actually becomes part of the museum. The record of Michael’s Museum as it currently exists in the guest room of our home, as it is packed and moved into storage, and as it is unpacked and installed in its new home ... becomes an important part of the museum itself. It is now one additional collection of the museum.

So we documented the collection. But it also looks like collecting is a way of documenting. A way of documenting a life. The accumulation of “things” that give proof of your life, day to day or special occasion, is a way of documenting your existence. 

3, 4, 5 ...

Our friend Jan recounts a visit to Maxwell Street, one of Chicago’s famous street flea markets. As she was walking through the stalls she could hear a man shouting: “Three Four Five.” What was that about? Was he counting? Was there a race? Was he “not all there?”

When she got closer she realized what she was hearing. Not “Three Four Five,” but rather “three for five.” He was selling sox. And you could buy three pair for five dollars. 

Makes sense ... now?

A Church Kind of Person

Ivanca has been here from Bulgaria almost eight years and has been our housekeeper for several years now. She is an accountant by training, cleans a mean house, has a good heart, and we love her dearly. She is a religious woman and follows Bulgarian Orthodox beliefs which includes spending a lot of time at church. For example, not only did she go to church on Easter Sunday for five hours but also on Good Thursday, Good Friday, and Good Saturday. She brought us dyed Easter eggs and a home-baked Easter bread which is braided like a Jewish Challah but with a hard boiled, red dyed egg in the center. The color red symbolizes the blood of Christ, and the egg represents new life.

Per Orthodox tradition, the week after Easter a special service is held to commemorate all those who have passed away. A sweet bread with red egg is baked again at home and shared in church, candles are lit for the departed, special prayers area said, and in memory of their departed relatives and friends each person brings something to share like cake, fruit, or candy.

Being a “church candle kind of person” I never miss an opportunity to light a candle for those whom I love and who have left us behind. When traveling in Europe, I never passed a church that I didn’t go into to light a candle with a little prayer for those who are no longer with  us. Following my tradition, after mom passed, I asked Ivanca to light a candle for mom when she was at her church the week after Easter. I gave her a small donation for the church and a picture of mom with “Adeline” written on it which Ivanca placed at the alter of her church. She brought a bag of candy to share with her fellow parishioners in mom’s memory.

The God Test

Based on my concept of: The Quinternity.

THE GOD TEST OF MY MOTHER'S PASSING

TRUTH: The truth is that I cannot prevent my mother’s death. The truth is that death is part of life and if you live your life to its fullest you must embrace death to its fullest. The truth is that she had a wonderful number of years enjoying all her family around her on a daily basis, enjoying Gregory and me during our many phone calls and on our brief but love filled visits to Texas, enjoying time with newly made friends. The truth is that she was alert until the end, while not in too much pain, and got to say her goodbyes to each family member. The truth is that I could not up and go to TX to be with her during her final ordeal. The truth is that I called two or three times a day, sent flowers, sent candy, sent a picture of Gregory and me to put by her bedside. The truth is that I told her she should leave when she was ready and not to hold on for any of us.

LOVE: Our relationship was full of love, expressed and otherwise. We had no secrets of significance, no undiscussed issues, no resentment, no hate. 

FORGIVENESS: I forgive myself for feeling guilty at not going to her bedside. I forgive myself for all the pain and sorrow I caused her through our lives together knowing that I did my best. I forgive her for all the pain and sorrow she caused me through our lives together knowing that she did her best.

PEACE: Knowing the TRUTH, based on our LOVE for each other, and being able to have FORGIVENESS for the trespasses of the past, I am at peace with her passing.

FAITH: I have FAITH in the STATE OF MIND that is GOD to know that she is being watched over, as am I, during this joyous but difficult transition for both my mother and myself. I have faith in my abilities to deal with her passing and to live my life filled with love.

On FInding God: The Quinternity

On Finding God

December 2, 2009

“One of the main functions of formalized religion is to protect people against a direct experience of God.” 

C.G. Jung

The Past

I have always, until recently, avoided following a given religion or believing in God. I was raised Jewish, was Bar Mitzvahed, and certainly enjoy the traditions, stories, and foods of the Jewish Holidays. 

Judaism, however, based on what might be my limited study has never given me a feeling of peace or an understanding of why life unfolds as it does. It has not given me a “personal GOD” or a “direct experience with GOD.” It certainly has provided me with “questions” but certainly not the “answers” I am looking for.

I have some knowledge of the great religions of the world and not one feels any closer to meeting my needs, although I do appreciate the traditions, stories, and foods of many of those holidays as well. 

I have always said that I have Faith, but am not sure of Faith in what. I have always admired and envied people who could feel a personal GOD (recently I have been searching,) who could Believe (but in what,) who could find solace in Prayers (I don’t.) I have always described myself as a Spiritual Person not a Religious Person and while this has given me a way of explaining myself and my moral behavior, it hasn’t given me much Peace of Mind.

Being Gay doesn’t help. How can one believe in a religion which professes that we “Love Thy Neighbor” and then denies my love. How can any religion say they are all accepting and then not accept my life as I have inherited it and/or chosen it? How can any religion say I am OK as I am, as long as I do not practice who I am? But that is a topic for future discussion!

The Quest

Recently I have been studying this GOD conundrum. With my current, difficult life situation acting as a catalyst in my “Search for God,” I have sought a way to find peace, contentment, guidance, and quite honestly just a way to get outside of myself, my fears, my sadness, and my pain. I cannot imagine seeking drugs or alcohol to do so and have never been a person who buries his head in the sand or enjoys denial. So where do I go? Where do I turn?

In my recent studies, I have read the “Bible” (Old and New Testament,) “How to Practice The Way to a Meaningful Life” by the Dalai Lama, “The Four Agreements” by Don Miguel Ruiz, “There is a Spiritual Solution to Every Problem” by Wayne Dyer, “The Evolution of God” by Robert Wright, among others. I have had deep conversations with my Jungian therapist/psychologist Dr. Peter Demuth. I have drifted off to sleep thinking about my dilemma, my search. I have talked with friends. I have become more aware of similar “searches” in the fiction reading I have done and in the movies I have watched.

While my studies have not yet given me the Peace I am looking for, I believe I am getting closer. I think I have been able to condense what I have gained from all of these studies combined with my life experiences and have begun to see a common thread. I suspect that all of them have assisted me in being closer to obtaining Peace and eventually I will be able to say:

“I HAVE FOUND GOD!”

The Present

A breakthrough came when I entertained the possibility that there could be a SPIRITUAL GOD. Until now I have thought only of GOD in terms of the various formal religions and couldn’t find a fit for myself with this RELIGIOUS GOD. I therefore dismissed any GOD. But perhaps there is, instead, a SPIRITUAL GOD. And perhaps I have found him, or her, or that greater entity!

Even with this new awareness of the possibility of a SPIRITUAL GOD, but based on past history, I must work on not visualizing a white bearded old man who is benevolent or judging or punishing. I try not to visualize a young, good looking teacher with golden flowing hair. Or a Buddha? Or Allah? I must still work at not assuming the word GOD belongs to any particular formal religion. I continue to work at not accepting the Bible as GOD’s law, cannot accept words like Sin or Evil or Ten Commandments (in principal yes but not having been handed down on clay tablets,) and certainly cannot understand killing others in the name of GOD.

On the RELIGIOUS GOD’s side, formal religions vary. Catholicism has the Trinity: Father, Son, Holy Spirit (formerly The Holy Ghost.) Hinduism has the Brahman and his many representations in the form of deities. Islam and Judiasm have One God. Buddhism does not deny the existence of god but rejects subservience to any kind to a supreme God. 

Prayer to the RELIGIOUS GOD, for most people, seems to consist of begging or bargaining or pleading and reciting rote materials which look for, praise, or give thanks for an external existence and/or intervention. While praying at home is acceptable, going to a house of worship where one can “talk” with GOD, seems to get greater results and in some religions, the only place to get results.

NOW FOR THE EPIPHANY. “I’ll take curtain number 3 please”

epiphany |iˈpifənē|

noun ( pl. -nies) (also Epiphany)

the manifestation of Christ to the Gentiles as represented by the Magi (Matthew 2:1–12).

1) the festival commemorating this on January 6.

2) a manifestation of a divine or supernatural being.

3)  a moment of sudden revelation or insight.

On the SPIRITUAL GOD’s side, I have found GOD to be a personal ... STATE OF MIND ... not an external entity. With a SPIRITUAL GOD, I have discovered that instead of a Trinity, or a “One God,” and closer to Buddhism’s lack of a Supreme God, for me a Quinternity exists. The QUINTERNITY of GOD as a STATE OF MIND includes: 1) Truth 2) Love, 3) Forgiveness, 4) Peace, and 5) Faith.

The five parts of the QUINTERNITY are related to and build on each other. This QUINTERNITY exists internally, has to do with how I think, and is part of my moral behavior. It does not exist externally, outside of me in a god, a heaven (and certainly not in Hell.) 

Also I have found SPIRITUAL PRAYER to be a STATE OF MIND that exists internally and reflects my understanding of the five parts of the Quinternity which are the basic principals which guide my life, my thoughts, my actions. Spiritual Prayer consists of meditating on these principals, drawing on them when needed, and in making them part of my daily life. I call this mediation THE GOD TEST of a situation.

The QUINTERNITY of the SPIRITUAL GOD as a STATE OF MIND

TRUTH: Behind every situation (action, event, thought, feeling, illness, response, etc) there is a Truth as to why it is happening or why it has happened. I believe that when one looks for, is aware of, and understands the “Truth in It,” one is better able to accept and deal positively with any situation. I also believe that merely by being aware that a Truth exists, even thought one may not understand the Truth itself (or that a particular Truth has been lost forever but at one time did exist,) one is better able to accept and deal positively with the situation. To me, GOD is the STATE OF MIND behind looking for the Truth in each situation.

LOVE: When you deal with each situation and approach every aspect of your life with Love for others and Love for yourself, you are acknowledging that we all come from and are part of the same Source. We all share similar experiences with differing levels of understanding of the Truth behind those experiences but in one way or another, we all share being alive. To me, GOD is the STATE OF MIND behind Love of self and others.

FORGIVENESS: When you acknowledge that everyone is somewhere along the continuum of awareness and understanding of Truth and Love; you realize that differences, conflicts, and negativity will arise. Forgiveness of others is the ability to realize that these differences, conflicts, and negativity are not personally directed at you and are not indicative of a failure on the part of others. Forgiveness of self is the ability to realize that these differences, conflicts, and negativity should not be blamed on others and are not indicative of a failure on your part. Forgiveness is the ability to move on. Forgiveness allows you to hold on to Truth and Love. To me, GOD is the STATE OF MIND behind Forgiveness of self and others.

PEACE: By always looking for the Truth behind the seemingly uncomfortable and difficult day to day occurrences in your life, by affirming with gratitude the Truth behind the seemingly pleasant and easy day to day occurrences in your life, and by doing so with Love and Forgiveness, conflict and negativity will be minimal or nonexistent. The feeling that comes with this state of being I call Peace. To me, GOD is the STATE OF MIND behind being at Peace.

FAITH: Having Faith allows you to hold on to the understanding that as life unfolds, through its joys and sorrows: (1) Truth exits even if it is not visible, (2) Love allows you to show respect and understanding for yourself and others, (3) Forgiveness allows each of us to be at our unique place on the continuum of Truth, Love, and Forgiveness, (4) Peace will be yours with these realizations, and (5) Faith will help you hold on to these understandings and help you live your life in a way that will allow you to find a Spiritual GOD, your personal GOD, the GOD within you, the GOD who is you, and to have a direct experience with GOD.

25 Random Things About Me

This activity was prompted by posts going around on Facebook. "List 25 random things about yourself." (Couldn’t do only 25. Ended up w/ 30.) Some of the facts are "out of date" as this was written in February of 2009.

.5 I like to do random acts of kindness. Like leaving pennies or loose change in unexpected places for people to find. Used to leave quarters on the floor of the back seat of my car so my Aunt Annie would find them and sneak them into her purse with glee. 

.6 Love baking cookies for people I love.

.7 Will help someone in need on the street as opposed to walking away.

.8 While I will not give money to beggars, I will acknowledge them as I pass by with a “Hi, How ya doin’” or something like that. I respect them as human beings.

.9 Find it easier to say YES to a request for help than to say NO. 

1. I once served a cup of tea to Barbara Streisand and got her autograph. I was working at the time at Schrafft’s on 57th Street in N.Y.C. and she was filming “Owl & the Pussycat” across the street. Nice thing about Schrafft’s was at the end of the night, we got to take home all of the unsold bakery goods at half price!

2. I worked for my uncle at the Carriage House in Chicago. Entertainers and actors who were performing long runs in Chicago would stay there. I delivered cleaning to Eve Arden and she invited me in for a coke. She was on the early T.V. series “Our Miss Brooks.” She was one of those actors who just played herself. I also met Robert Preston, of broadway musical fame, who was staying there. I think he tried to pick me up but I was “not yet aware” of those things at the time.

3. At 30, I went on an adventure to Mexico for two months. It was my “teenage running away from home” late or my “mid-life crisis” early. I spent a month in San Miguel de Allende where I taught Spanish to an English speaking couple in exchange for a room. When he found out I was “a professor from the United States,” the Mayor of the town treated me to a bull fight as his guest. I spent a month in Mexico City.

4. Gregory and I have been in a committed relationship for 33 years. We like to say, “We are slow learners!” We have owned three houses, five cars, and three cats. We are best friends, soul mates, life partners, etc. We even still like each other after all those years.

5. I was held back in school after 6th grade because Mr. Rosengarden thought I was too immature. He had one drawer in his desk devoted to the toys and stuff he confiscated from me. My mother cried when she found out he was going to fail me. That is the only time in my life I thought about suicide. I was going to stick my head in the oven like I once saw Lucille Ball try on T.V.

6. I was a street mime clown and received a grant from the Chicago Council on Fine Arts. I wasn’t the kind of mime who tried to get out of glass boxes. My street performance persona and interaction with people was done without words. Lots of people hate clowns, but I was really a good one and made lots of people laugh. I performed all over Chicago but mainly performed on the steps of the Art Institute, at Lincoln Park Zoo, on the Michigan Avenue Bridge, in front of the Water Tower, and in schools in Uptown. My name was Maybe the Clown. The show was called “Maybe the Clown & his Back Pocket Review.” The joke was that I had so many props that I pulled a trunk around with me, my props could never have fit into my back pocket. Maybe the Clown no longer exists.

7. I received a fellowship from the State of Illinois for my work in Gifted Education while serving as Coordinator for Talented & Gifted Education (TAG) for the seven schools of Glenview Public School District #34. I created the program from the ground up for the district, worked with students, teachers, and parents. I was a founder of the Illinois Association for Gifted Children where I also served as secretary for four years. I presented workshops for the State of Illinois Gifted Education Conferences. I taught a course in “Creative Problem Solving and Divergent Thinking” and “Gifted Education” for National College of Education.

8. I received my BA from the U of I at Champaign/Urbana, my MA from National College of Education in Chicago, my Certificate of Advanced Study from the U of I at C/U, and completed my doctoral studies and 75% of my dissertation at the U of I. Then the State of Illinois offered early retirement to teachers who were 50 years old. I grabbed it and decided that the rest was bullshit and ceased my doctoral work. “There is life after retirement” and I am enjoying it very much thank you.

9. I have been a Supernumerary (acting extra) for the Lyric Opera of Chicago for 10 years (1998//99-2008/09) and have been in 17 operas: Mourning Becomes Electra, Mefistofele, La Gioconda, Die Meistersinger von Nurnberg, View from the Bridge, Carmen, Attila, Tosca, Faust, Lucia de Lammermoor, Madama Butterfly, Aida, Carmen, Turandot, Dialogue Des Carmelites, Madama Butterfly, & Cavalleria Rusticana. My spirit soars when I am on stage in the middle of all that amazing music. If I sing or humm, they fire me.

10. I am an avid photographer and would like to make something more artistic than hobby out of it. I have a good eye for framing what I see. While I didn’t live my vacation through the lens, I did take over 4,000 pictures while we were in Spain for a month. With that many photographs, some of them had better be pretty spectacular ... and they are.

11. I have worked with opera super stars Cynthia Lawrence, Kim Josephson,  Sam Ramey, Patricia Racette, Denyce Graves, Natalie Desay, Andrea Gruber, Judith Christin, Andrea Rost, Ildebrando D’Archangelo, Felicity Palmer, Lauren McNeese, Scott Ramsey, Lauren Curnow, and renowned director from England, John Copley (I love that man!)

12.  I was instrumental in getting the City of Evanston to change the stop lights along Green Bay Road so that there was a delay between RED to GREEN. Many accidents and also a few deaths had happened at our corner of Livingston and Green Bay  as well as at the other intersections between Emerson Street and the town of Wilmette at Evanston’s border. The east/west streets meet Green Bay under a viaduct and the sight lines are limited. I would hear the squeal of breaks and the crash from my house a block away from Livingston and would call the police to send an ambulance.  My work helped cut down on the accidents.

13. I was instrumental in getting the City of Evanston to create a limited parking zone for our neighborhood since commuters on the Metra would fill the streets, especially Poplar Avenue, leaving little room for residents to park.

14. I have had experience with three fires. a) I had my clothing, books, and property destroyed when my room at the fraternity house caught on fire. b) I carried a bed-ridden man to safety from an apartment building fire. c) I ran down six flights of stairs - through smoke - to escape a fire that started in the basement of my apartment stack and was fed by a broken gas line.

15. I once helped a woman get medical care after she fell down a flight of stairs from her second floor apartment in the two flat where I was living while in Queens, New York. Blood was everywhere. I prevented her from choking on her blood, covered her with a blanket, comforted her until the ambulance arrived, drove her husband to the hospital when he got home from work. She never talked to me again and would cross the street when she saw me coming down the block.

16. I was a singer and dancer in “Little Me” by Cid Ceasar while in school at the University of Illinois in Champaign/Urbana. I was also in a comic farce entitled, “She Laughs too Much.” I loved it, was good at it, but never continued my love of the theater until fifty or so years later now that I am a Supernumerary for the Lyric of Chicago.

17. I am really good on the computer. I began with the old Apple II before there even was a Macintosh. I was working with gifted kids at the time and personal computers were just beginning to come into the schools and since gifted kids needed something extra to do with their time they let them write programs for the computers. That was before the days when computers were used for the productive programs we use today like photoshop, word-processors, databases, etc. That was before the days when operating a computer was intuitive. I have used a computer for over 30 years.

18. I used to sing as a soprano, before my voice changed, in my Hebrew school choir.

19.  I have never been good at sports but I can say that when I was nine or ten, I sprained my ankle playing football. I was at the park with a friend and was tossing a football around (badly.) I went to get a drink at the fountain and fell off the piece of concrete on which it was mounted.

20. I am the curator of my own museum of small things, Michael’s Museum. It contains over 100 collections of trinkets, curiosities, oddities, artifacts, miniatures, folk art, etc. The museum is currently in storage in a climate controlled warehouse next door to the likes of collections from the Art Institute or the Museum of Contemporary Art. Michael’s Museum will become part of The Chicago Children’s Museum and is waiting until the CCM on Navy Pier (and then at its new home in Grant Park) can find a home for MM among its exhibits. Check out www.michaelsmusuem.org

21. I am currently creating assemblages in various cigar and other antique wooden boxes. Each box has a different theme or represents a person, place, or thing that is important to me. The boxes are filled with antiques, found objects, things from dime stores or resale shops. The inside of the box is covered with a background and the front of the box is covered with glass. These boxes are in the style of Joseph Cornell, a famous outsider artist who worked out of his garage in the 40’s. I love creating them but not finishing them. So I have approximately 13 boxes ready to go but haven’t glued in the backgrounds and pieces or cut the glass fronts.

22. I make jewelry. Mostly crocheted seed bead rope necklaces. I love the crocheting so much that sometimes I get carried away and the necklace turns into a belt that can be wrapped around your waist two or three times. As a jewelry artist, I was represented by the Pumpernickel Inn Gallery in Union Pier, Michigan for several years where a number of my pieces were sold for one or two hundred dollars each. Then the gallery closed so I have 30 or 40 necklaces in a box my closet. Maybe I will do something with them some day.

23. I am a bookbinder. I make new books and can restore old ones. I have taken a number of classes and had a show at the old Jane Adams Hull House on Broadway in New Town in Chicago. For five or six years I taught my Gifted Education students how to create children’s picture books and to bind them so they looked quite professionally library like.

24. I am currently thinking about compiling a book (non-fiction, memoir type) of the writings I have done and quotations I have collected over the last five or so years. I will call it “The Museum of Michael’s Mind.”

25. Places I have been: Florida, California, Michigan, Indiana, New York, Massachusetts, Vermont, Road Island, Pennsylvania, Washington, D.C., Colorado, Illinois, Louisiana, Nevada, New Hampshire, New Jersey, South Carolina, Tennessee, Texas, Connecticut, Hawaii, Maine, Ohio, Wisconsin. (22 out of 50 and counting.) United States of America, Spain, Mexico, Germany, England, Italy, Canada. (7)

February 2009

Psych 100

Chanukah, Hanukkah, Hanukah, Chanukkah. The various spellings always confused me and still do but being Jewish, at least I know how to pronounce it. 

Which leads me to two stories from my college student days. I was in Psych 100 as a beginning freshmen (really enjoyed the class and went on to minor in psych) at the University of Illinois. Being an entry level course, there must have been 1,000 students in the huge lecture hall. 

The lectures were telecast to several other halls around the campus. There must have been 20 TV screens suspended from the ceiling. Also being an entry level course, seats were assigned and attendance taken. 

Story One: I got friendly with the girl sitting next to me. We would chat or compare notes before class and we got to know a little about each other. Half way through the semester she said to me, “I bet I know what your father does for a living.” She was being really serious. 

I, surprised and confused replied, “Oh?”

“Yes,” she said, “I’ll bet he is a tailor!” (You may pause to laugh here.) 

Apparently I was the first Jew she had ever met, being from some small town in the South, and the stereotype just kicked in. I was sorry to disappoint her. "My father is an electrician."

Story Two: Same lecture hall. A different time. There is an unspoken law that if your professor doesn't show up you must wait at least 15 minutes before assuming the class will not take place. 

Here are 1,000 students sitting in their seats. The broadcast runs into technical difficulty and doesn't begin on time. The grad assistants take attendance anyway and leave. 

After twenty minutes still no lecture. Still 20 fuzzy screens. So people begin to leave. I sit for a while longer chatting with my small town, newly knowledgeable, non-Jewish seat mate. We finally decide to leave to get a cup of coffee and continue our visit. 

Just as we get to the door the TV technological difficulties are corrected and the lecture begins. Picture this ... twenty of the professor lecturing to an empty lecture room.

January 2009

A Trade Off

I am not sure if I would rather be loved for my age, experience, and wisdom,

Or for my youth, beauty, and innocence?

It’s a trade-off isn’t it?

January 2009

Opera

Notes from a Northwestern University Opera Master Class with Susan Graham:

Posture/alignment

Body movement in place

Body movement across stage

Physical strength

Facial expresion

Hands position

Voice control

Breath control

Delivery

Emotional expression

Subtle communications

Action/reaction

Melody

Pronunciation

Foreign language

Word meaning

Story line

Character

AN OPERA SINGER MUST BE AWARE OF

ALL OF THESE AT THE SAME TIME!

It's All About Churros

I am on a subway car in New York City with a three other people. I do not know them but we share the subway ride experience in common. It is as if we are all going to the same party.

I am young, vital, in shape, good looking. I have the underlying feeling (which I usually have when in NYC) that there is so much of what is going on in this amazing city and I am missing most of it. 

Read: Anxiety over not being able to be in the right place at the right time and missing most of the opportunities around me including the “sexual seething” that is Gay New York!

The blond, beautiful, vibrant woman overflowing with exuberance asks to borrow my sweater. She disappears at the next stop taking it with her. 

The older, good looking man excuses himself from joining us in the experience looking off into the distance, and gets off one stop later. 

The third person is a friendly, attractive, “old soul” Latina girl, maybe 18 or 20 years old. I ask her to come back to my place as I think I could fall in love with her.

She thanks me and refuses by saying: “It’s all about Churros." She goes back to reading her graphic paperback novel.

So it is all about the Churros. The blond woman doesn’t even know they exist. The older man makes Churros at home but doesn't have anyone with whom to share them. My problem is that I know Churros are sweet but I am always looking for the perfect one! Or the next better one.

I think I’ll get off at the next stop.

(Churros, sometimes referred to as a Spanish doughnut, are fried-dough pastry-based snacks, sometimes made from potato dough, that originated in Spain. They are popular in Latin America, France, Portugal the United States,and Spanish-speaking Caribbean islands. The snack gets its name from its shape, which resembles the horns of the Churro breed of sheep reared in the Spanish grasslands of Castilla. There are two types of churros in Spain. One is thin (and usually knotted) and the other, especially popular in Madrid, is long and thick (porra). They both are normally eaten for breakfast dipped in hot chocolate that is almost as think as chocolate pudding. Wikipedia.)

Written November 2008

Good Enough

In a previous post you noticed that I have begun a new adventure: Michael Beads. I have been making crocheted seed bead rope necklaces for some time now. I had a gallery representing me in Union Pier Michigan but it closed several years ago. My "stock" of necklaces have been sitting on the shelf since. 

Across from our condo a new shop is opening called The Galleria of Evanston. Its main store is an artist collective in Andersonville with over 100 artists. This new store in Evanston will have over 40 artists and I am one of them.

The difference between my previous gallery and this collective is that at the collective the artist is responsible for designing and maintaining their own space. At the previous gallery all the work was done by the gallery owners. 

I have been working on space design, logo and signage, pricing, layout, etc. In some ways I have no idea what I am doing but also I am good at the above skills so have a certain level of confidence in myself.

When Friday came and it was time to install, I panicked. I was wide awake at 6 am, wondering what I got myself into: any talent? will anyone like or buy the necklaces? will I recoup my set up expenses? do I really want to add another thing to do to my already busy overwhelming schedule? will the space look good or amateurish? will none of the necklaces sell? will they all sell so I will have to be crazy making new necklaces? etc.

In an e-mail I mentioned this "panic" to a friend and she wrote back: "Oh, baby. It will turn out all okay. The booth will be good enough. Some necklaces will sell, if you know what the right price is. The Galleria people can help with both. You want it to be great. How about looking at it as a new adventure, and relax into the concept of 'good enough.'"

I answered her e-mail simply, "I don't know how to do good enough?" This caused me to have to ponder. I am far from a perfectionist. Check out behind the doors in my closet. I am of the school of belief that everything I do does not have to be my best. Some stuff will be OK if I just scrape by. When I was in school, often I was grateful and excited about earning a "C." Often I am just happy to "get it over with" and not worry about the quality.

But I guess when my ARTIST self takes over, the standards shoot through the sky to the heaven of impossibility. The end product really matters. In some way, I do not completely understand why or how, my art work represents who I am and it is very important to me to present myself to the world in the best possible way. 

My therapist said (and don't you hate people who quote their therapists but this one is a wise man) "There are four audiences with levels of acceptance and artist satisfaction."

BEST is if you love your work and your audience loves your work. You are home free. You love what you are doing and will get customers and praise and sales with your work.

GOOD is if you love your work but the audience doesn't love your work. At least you love what you are doing. Most likely your audience doesn't know how good you are or perhaps you have found the wrong audience and should look for another or perhaps you don't even need an audience, you have yourself. There are options.

BETTER is if you don't like your work and your audience doesn't like your work. This way you can just quit. Stop doing what you do, change what you do, improve what you do. The options are manageable. 

WORSE is if you don't like your work but your audience loves your work. You don't enjoy doing what you do but you have an audience who demands more and more. Their compliments and accolades are aggravating because you don't agree and feel they are pandering. 

If I am pleased with my work that is where "enough" comes in. Others may not like it but if I do, good enough. 

I am pleased with my necklaces but not the art of sales space design. So before the completion of my installation, and before the opening I am in the place where I am not so sure about the presentation or design of my booth. 

We will see what happens and I'll let you know.