The Haasienda on Shroyer…

Sunday, just as Pastor Monte was starting announcements, he said, “Merry Christmas… or should I say, ‘Happy Holidays’?” The crowd of Lutherans began jeering with boos (and a few hisses) which confused me because I thought Lutherans only jeered at the end of the sermon and I had completely missed it! Of course, there would be no booing or hissing following Pastor Monte’s sermons as he ranks up there with pastors Mike Johnson and Steve Makofka. Monte was, of course, deliberately poking at the recent controversial wave of “Happy Holidays” vs. “Merry Christmas.”

I have always purchased cards with “happy holidays” as I always considered it to include my New Year’s greeting as well, and never thought more about it… I always write notes so “Merry Christmas” was always on the inside – and that was it.

A few years back, I tried to do the right thing with the politically correct fad that was so short lived… now, I just don’t even try. African Americans are back to being “Blacks” – which many seem to prefer; I never played cowboys and Native Americans as a child; and the heavy set disgruntled customer in front of me at Meijers last week became “that fat old biddy.”

I was raised knowing one can never please everyone… afterall, has God ever truly won this battle??? If He can’t accomplish this after billions of years and dealing with so many personalities, why should I try anything other than my best? So, if I accidentally greet a Jewish brethren (who has no name tag with Joel Frankl) with a “Merry Christmas,” I goof. If Ahkmead, the pharmacist at the CVS pharmacy counter is offended by my”Merry Christmas” – great! At least it might change the blank expression he generally wears…

Like I tell my sons, sometimes it is more effective being the small stone that makes a ripple rather than the big boulder that makes a splash. Sometimes, splashes are necessary – very necessary to get some of the excess water out of the pond or puddle; however, with a small stone, there are ripples and you generally do not loose much, if any, water…

I walk through the stores with a smile on my face – if it catches on, great. If it doesn’t – great. I at least tried… and that fat old biddy in front of me in the check-out lane cannot go to bed that night saying, “No one smiled at me today.”

“Someday, I hope that someone will take the time to consider the role of the First Lady and assess the many burdens she has to bear and the many contributions she makes.” Harry S. Truman, President, 1945-1953

Lady Bird Johnson, Pat Nixon, Nancy Reagan, Barbara Bush, Roselyn Carter, Betty Ford; 1993

Before the invention of photography most Americans had little idea what their president or his wife looked like. As photograph and film images became available it was easier for the American public to develop a relationship with the First Family. The activities of the First Family became a part of the everyday life of John Q. Public. Researchers call this kind of relationship, “para-social interaction.” Viewers begin to believe that they know the people they see in print or on television in the same way they know their friends and associates. Psychologically these relationships have the same characteristics as a real friendship or enmity which is why there is often a massive outpouring of public grief when a President is injured or ill, or a national frenzy over a wedding in the White House.

Lady Bird Johnson

America’s interest in and affection for the various women who have served as First Lady has depended largely on the way the media has portrayed her. Jacqueline Kennedy was the first president’s wife to have her own press secretary who managed the relationship between the President’s wife and the media. Each First Lady since then has developed her own relationship with the press through her own efforts and through the careful attention of the President’s advisers. Presidential advisers closely monitor the way the First Lady is perceived by the media and the public because her approval rating can have a direct effect on the popularity of the President.

Bess Truman

The role of the First Lady of the United States of America has evolved since the days of Martha Washington. Each of the women who served in this capacity has made her own contribution to the position. Some of the women such as Abigail Adams, Dolly Madison, and Eleanor Roosevelt publicly played active roles as adviser to their husbands and were influential in his decisions about political issues. Other women such as Leticia Tyler, Lucretia Garfield, Eliza Johnson and Ida McKinnley played little or no role in public life after their husbands were elected. The first three women had serious illnesses that prevented them from participating in social or ceremonial activities; Mrs. McKinnley was in deep mourning for her son who died shortly before her husband’s election.

Eleanor Roosevelt

Even though she is neither elected or appointed to her position, the job requires that the First Lady be on call twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, 365 days a year. She receives no salary or other monetary compensations for her work. She has to be willing to accept that everything she says, everything she wears, every action she takes will be closely monitored, reported, and commented on by the media. Every thing she does in her role as First Lady will be criticized and praised. Her life before her time in the White House will be closely scrutinized and it will be necessary for her to build a relationship with the American public that is based primarily on how the media portrays her.

Jackie Kennedy

All of them have faced challenges that might break a lesser woman. Each of them has touched a different place in America’s heart. Being the First Lady is a difficult job that each of these women performed with their own particular grace and style.

The first musical I ever wrote was begun the spring of 1987. I was intending to write a rather lengthy choral piece on the life of Lincoln and was including a moment with Mrs. Lincoln. I had always believed her to be the shrew portrayed in history, and thought, “Poor Abraham Lincoln, married to Mary Todd.” After finishing my initial research my thought was, “Poor Mary Todd, married to Abraham Lincoln.”

My musical, Love Is Eternal, is a tender, thorough portrayal of the vilified former first lady, opening with the widow in the asylum to which she was confined after her eldest, and only surviving son had her committed for fear she would spend his inheritance.

The story of Mary Todd Lincoln, one of history’s most misunderstood heroines, cannot fail to leave its audience moved and breathless, no matter what their age. The fierce divisions and blistering passions of post-Civil War America, as well as the ever-changing influence of women in the halls of American power, are made profoundly personal in this highly accurate account of an extraordinary first family.

Historians have often recognized Mrs.Lincoln as America’s first “first lady,” in the modern sense. Never content to sit idly by, Mary Todd took an active interest in her husband’s administration, causing ever-increasing controversy and uproar among congressional leaders who resented her access and influence. Also, she took it upon herself to redesign and refurbish a White House that had been woefully neglected. She added heating and plumbing, often at personal expense, ultimately throwing herself heavily into debt. Having already lost two sons prior to the horror at Fords Theater, she plunged into a depression made even worse by bankruptcy. Then, in what seemed a final finishing blow, she lost yet another son to illness and in her grief became delusional and uncontrollable. Though well intentioned, her oldest and only surviving son, Robert, added one last insult to injury. Fearing for her safety, he went to court to have her committed, causing a lasting rift in both her family and in the already scandalized southern society in which she was raised.

Mary Todd made a miraculous recovery. Swiftly recapturing her sanity and grace, she held tenaciously to the wit, lucidity, and love for life and family that were the hallmarks of her character. Hers is a story of an unquestionable triumph. Against all odds, Mary Todd Lincoln emerged as an indomitable woman who refused to surrender her spirit and dignity, and found the strength to rise above the unbelievable trauma and loss that had been repeatedly dealt to her.

To see photographs or portraits of our country’s first ladies, please visit: http://images.google.com/imgres

I often joke at the coffee commercial “celebrate the moments of your life” and it has become an even more poignant statement since purchasing my first coffee maker this week. Well, this turned out to be one of those days of celebration, as it was a wonderful day through and through.

En route to church I chatted with Mother, a Sunday morning ritual, either on a long Flyer walk or driving to church. We turned on to Kurtz and the cars were lined up for the church’s cantata! Thus began our day…

Cantata
The church had the most wonderful cantata this morning. The 10 piece orchestra was comprised of some of the Miami Valley’s most talented, and they certainly did a phenomenal job. The choir, a little larger than Sunday mornings, filled the front of the church and right up the altar steps. They did such a great job. The cantata, Journey of Hope, was written by two of my favorite contemporary composers, Camp Kirkland & Tom Fettke – and they did not let me down with this particular setting. The entire service was just exceptionally great. Since he was playing “second fiddle” this morning to the performers, Pastor Monte sat with us in the front row (I felt like my grandfather sitting right up front! How Methodist of me!). Towards the end of the cantata I saw a blue church bulletin being shuffled back and forth. Since we were face to face with the performers, I was especially concerned with any distractions. As I turned to retrieve the bulletin from my two sons, I discovered it was heading back to Pastor Monte who began the bulletin-mail. How reminiscent of Grandma Donna and me (as a teenager) at our home Methodist church…

After the cantata, I got to meet Chris Stevens’ parents, Margaret & Cash, from Columbus, as well as her younger sister, Barbara. Chris suggested a family portrait since Adam was wearing a tie, so I set up a bench in front of the tree and a stained glass window, and posed Chris, Monte, Nathaniel and Adam while a parishioner with a camera took the photographs.

Afterwards, the Stevens family, Chris’ parents, my sons and nephew, Andrew, who is staying with us for the week, took off for Anticoli’s for lunch.

Concert
After lunch, we hurried to Vandalia-Butler High School for the choral department’s holiday concert. Kevin Wilson, one of the area’s stronger choral directors, put on a good concert with a hundred plus voices. His repertoire was very well selected, and proved to be a great afternoon of choral singing.

I love the story behind Handel’s “Hallelujah Chorus” from The Messiah. Apparently, during the second performance in London, King George II, tired and stiff from sitting so long, stood just as this particular chorus began – well, when the monarch stands, the subjects stand. At the next performance, those who had been present at the with the king must have thought it was a royal decree to stand nearly 250 years. Since we are no longer a “Merry Christmas” society, I am sure the Christian faith is blamed for this tradition… blame it on Georgy!

Coffee
After the concert, Chris & Monte invited us back to their home for coffee. 13yo Adam rode with us, and of course, he and Jose are a pair! As we drove down their street Adam shouted, “There’s our house!” We all laughed as we were surrounded by houses.
Monte & Chris’ new home is so much what I would like for a brand new home of my own. It is a two-story Springbrook design, and the layout is absolutely perfect. Chris is an amazing decorator, and even more so with a glue gun and her own creations. With some encouragement, I believe I could become as creative in the home decor department. Oui! “Creations by Jolliffe-Haas” could be my next venture.

And then there was coffee… since I am now an official coffee maker owner, I am keen on learning more. Chris’ coffee had such a wonderful flavor – and I learned a great secret – a dash of cinnamon with the coffee grounds. As I write this, I am on my second cup, with two more to come!

The best part was the laughter and conversation. I do feel my life has been enriched by meeting the Stevens family, and I know my sons feel the same. On the drive home – a beautiful snow filled sky straight out of a Currier & Ives print, “Silver Lumina on I-75” – Matt said, “Dad, I didn’t know ministers could be such fun people. I thought they would always be dull and quiet and have homes that were like most churches – but they’re not like that at all.” I had to laugh, as I had grown up with ministers, teachers and police officers all my life!

How this moment began…
This “moment of my life” actually began in 1991. I moved to Dayton in 1990, and in February 1991 I began my tenure as director of worship & music at Faith In Christ Lutheran Church in Springfield, Ohio. There I met this wonderful family, the Posts. Bill & Cindy’s children were all very young, Simon, their youngest was only five. Now, Stacey is a mother of two, Elaine is in her third year of college, and Simon is a freshman in college. One summer, Cindy’s sister, Valerie Lockhart, drove over from Indiana with her new born, red-headed son, Jackson. After leaving Faith In Christ Lutheran Church in 1993, I remained in touch with the Post family.

In January of 2002, I received a telephone call from Valerie – Jackson was in the fifth grade and was wanting to take piano lessons. They showed up for their first lesson and I got to meet Jackson’s younger sister, Sophie, who eventually became a piano student as well.

In 2003, Valerie introduced me to her friends, the Berlons – Amanda, Scott, Zach and Caleb. Zach, a year younger than my son, Matthew, became a piano student. When Jose arrived, he and Caleb were in the same pod/family at Van Buren Middle School. Both Matt and Zach are in concert choir and show choir at Fairmont, and Jose and Caleb are still good friends. Scott and Amanda and I are very similar in parenting styles and values, and our sons are very similar in personalities. This summer I enjoyed several outings with the Berlon & Haas boys, and our families tend to see a good deal of each other.

Last month, Chris Stevens called. “Hello, I am a friend of Valerie Lockhart and she…” Chris and Valerie had grown up together in Columbus and remained in touch all these years. Several times, when we were church shopping, Valerie, knowing I had a deep appreciation for Lutheran liturgy, suggested we visit North Riverdale Lutheran Church. To be honest, I was so spoiled by the sermons, ministry style and friendship of Mike Johnson at Faith In Christ, I was not terribly interested in exploring another Lutheran church – no one could do it as well as Mike. And, I have eaten my thoughts. Once I met Chris and Nathaniel, I was easily lured to Monte’s parish. It was an easy sell – and for those who know DLJH know I am terribly critical in this arena!

Tomorrow afternoon, one of the Havener children will begin piano lessons. The Haveners are also friends of the Lockharts, and have six adopted children!

So today, it seemed as though I was continuing to celebrate a moment in my life that began nearly fifteen years ago with the Post family. With so many new friends this past year, reconnecting with a number of college friends, and the many wonderful friends I dearly l
ove, I feel so blessed this Christmas/holiday season.

And last Wednesday morning, following the Van Buren Middle School music concert, Valerie Lockhart said, “Since I have had success in introducing you to the Berlons, the Stevens, and now the Haveners, there is one more I want you to meet – he’s fresh out of college and is our children’s choir director at church…”

Valerie should build a career with her tremendous skill at matching family friends!

Whew! I cannot believe it is now December 16th, but am also relieved. Jose’s concert at Van Buren Middle School was Wednesday morning, and he was NERVOUS. As we were tying his tie, he asked me if I got nervous.

“Well, not since 1987. I finally told myself there was no need to be nervous and I stopped being nervous before shows.”

“1987? That was five years before I was even born,” he sighed.

The concert was great and the seventh grade chorus – comprised of 26 men and 31 women (great guys!) – was outstanding. In fact, they sang better than the eighth grade chorus. Poor Jose was still nervous and he could barely open his mouth – which truly surprised me. His face had terror written all across it. Jose smiled now and then, but for the most part he was stone. After school he bounced into my study, excused himself to my student and proclaimed, “I will be better the next time because I know what to expect. I won’t be as nervous.” Yes, Jose put another positive spin to one of his life experiences.

Wednesday night I ran over to the high school for the dance call-back auditions for The Music Man. The new music wing is now open and the auditions were held in front of the new mirrors in the choir room. Matthew got off work at 8:00pm and came over for the auditions, so I took a few minutes to show him all the neat stuff in the new Performing Arts Center.

Thursday, today, was busy with all sorts of activities and errands. The snow began around 10:00am and did not stop until after 4:30pm – not too bad, but a wet, heavy snow. I began boiling a chicken for a chicken noodle, mashed potatoes and corn dinner – and while I was working the chicken broth boiled over and began smoking. It was not until the haze became so great in front of my computer screen that I actually realized there was smoke… then the alarm went off. I had doors and windows open, fans running, Flyer and Logan hiding (but still wanting to haunt the kitchen where they knew the chicken was)… When my first student arrived at 2:15pm there was still a gentle haze – of course, he figured it was one of my theatrical lighting tricks.

The weather was nasty and all evening events were canceled. So no concert tonight for the bands and choirs – which was basically a repeat of Tuesday. After dinner, the boys and I ran errands of grocery and Christmas shopping. I now have most of it completed. We tripped into Wal-Mart for a few items and I found a three-piece set of a coffee maker, a stainless steel toaster, and a stainless steel crock pot for $24.95. What a bargain. I have never had a coffee maker, and I was excited. I am not really a coffee drinker, but if it is there, I will drink it. When Mother is here for visits, or Jeff Carter, I feel bad as I don’t have coffee.

We got home and unloaded the car, put groceries away and I busied myself with some odds and ends. A little after 10:00pm, Jose and I returned to Wal-Mart so I could get coffee, creamer and filters. Saturday is the 102nd anniversary of the Wright Brothers’ flight at Kitty Hawk, and Jose’s Language Arts class is watching a video and having a party, so we got some tiny donuts to add to the celebration. While we were in Wal-Mart it began snowing and within 20 minutes, the parking lot, already a sheet of ice that came within an hour of our first visit – was covered with snow. At home, I set up my new coffee maker – not too difficult and I did not even need to call Brody, Jeff, Mother or Dena to figure out how to operate it.

So, here I sit, on a beautiful December evening – a full moon, and a light snow falling – celebrating the moments of my life…

Wow! I hear folks say that I look younger than my 41 years, and have more energy than most my age… well, after an all-nighter this past Friday, and a near all-nighter Sunday night, I am feeling less energized this week.

Monday was spent resting. Today, I had an interview with Susan Pringle at the MUSE Machine (http://www.musemachinedayton.com/) concern a part-time position with the education department, but she indicated that with my strong theatrical background, they were toying with possibly turning it into a full time position to include the production territory. Interesting, but I am not sure how it will fit with my teaching and family life. Maybe, the time has come for a complete change. Time will tell.

I returned home to teach and then hurry with Jose over to the high school for the orchestra/choral concert, and then a complete combined-ensembles (symphony orchestra and band, and all the choirs) for A Christmas Festival and Hallelujah Chorus. Thursday will be the concert for the bands, followed by a repeat performance of the two combined pieces.

Brody told me that we now have possession of the new facilities. After the concert, I gave a quick tour to some of the senior parents who I felt deserved a peek. So, all my work for next week’s move may be slightly altered.

Phil called and would like the boys to come to Cincinnati Friday evening for dinner, a movie by the fireplace, and an all-boy slumber party. Saturday he would like to hike around the parks, maybe take in the art museum with Matt and Jose. He also wants to discuss Matt traveling to Europe with him this summer for a week or two.

My sister’s youngest son, Andrew, 6, will be off school all next week and she was expecting to find a babysitter for the entire week – however, I called Dena and arranged for him to stay with us next week. So, we may need to alter our Saturday plans to meet her half way for a child-exchange. I also need to finish all my shopping so I can send some of the packages home with Dena so we have enough room to return in the car with three boys, myself, Flyer, suitcases and other gifts.

We are all looking forward to spending next Friday, December 23, with Jeff and AJ for fun in Indianapolis. Although I tend to dread this time of year, I have really enjoyed a more social life these past few weeks with Monte, Phil, Jeff and AJ – all of whom are such wonderful role models for my sons – and good friends to me.

Well, the Sunday for a concert and a party which I had been eagerly awaiting, arrived. After church, the boys and I grabbed a Chinese dinner and then I hurried home to change in to my new suit. I arrived at St. Peter in Chains Cathedral in downtown Cincinnati ten minutes before the concert began ( http://www.stpeterinchainscathedral.org/Final.asp). The Vocal Arts Ensemble is conducted by Earl Rivers, the choral conductor at CCM. Earl is also the ex-husband of an old Fred Waring/show choir friend and choreographer, Stephanie “Stevie” Rivers. My good friend, Phil Clary, had a ticket waiting for me at will-call, and I enjoyed one of the best choral ensembles I have heard in years. It made me dearly miss my years with the Ball State Chamber Choir. Their repertoire was phenomenal and I could have listened for several more hours. For more information on the Vocal Arts Ensemble please go to: http://www.vaecincinnati.org/

Following the concert, I road with Phil to a restaurant overlooking the city of Cincy so he could purchase several gift certificates for the ensemble staff. The view was breathtaking and I wish we could have enjoyed a dinner there. We picked up my car and I followed Phil to his home in Eden Park which is another wonderful view of the city, right next to Playhouse In The Park. Phil’s new three story condo is gorgeous, and he certainly knows how good taste – very impressive. Phil changed into his suit, and then we took off for a north eastern suburb, Indian Hills, where Phil teaches choir at the high school.

The party was held at an estate called Peterloon, a landmark estate, for the benefit, education, and enjoyment of Greater Cincinnati. Peterloon was built in the Georgian style between 1928 and 1930 and designed by the architects Delano & Aldrich. The home’s deceptive scale ingeniously obscures its five stories, 36 rooms, 19 fireplaces, and 21 baths.

The home of Mr. and Mrs. John J. Emery, its major reception rooms and bedroom suites are fitted with authentic 18th-century English carved pine paneling. Peterloon’s rooms contain their original collections of furnishings and art, including a drawing of Mr. Emery by the artist John Singer Sargent and portraits by Mrs. Emery’s father, Charles Dana Gibson.

Walled gardens, terraces, and lawns extend down a hill to a terraced circular pool and on to an eight-acre lake, which the house overlooks. In 1979, the Peterloon estate and 72 of its original 1,200 acres of land were placed in a foundation which opened the home and its grounds for both public and private enjoyment and use.

John Josiah Emery Jr. (1898-1976) was a patron of architecture and the arts in Cincinnati as well as one of the region’s outstanding civic and industrial leaders. He was a nephew of Mrs. Thomas J. Emery, who designed and founded the Village of Mariemont, 10 miles east of Cincinnati. He was the principal developer in 1929-1931 of the 50-story Carew Tower and the adjacent Art Deco masterpiece Netherland Hotel (now the Netherland Hilton), which serves as a centerpiece of downtown Cincinnati.
After World War II Mr. Emery developed the Terrace Plaza Hotel (now the Crowne Plaza). Artwork created for the hotel’s public spaces by Alexander Calder, Joan Miro, and Saul Steinberg now resides at the Cincinnati Art Museum, where Mr. Emery was a long-term Board Chair.

Irene Langhorne Gibson Post Emery (date-1973) was a daughter of the artist and cartoonist Charles Dana Gibson and a niece of Nancy Langhorne, Lady Astor, who was the first female member of the British House of Commons. Mrs. Emery was, along with her sisters, one of the original “Gibson Girls.”

The party was first class – all the way and I thoroughly enjoyed myself. I met one docent who was assisting at the party and she shared a good deal of history with me. While the ensemble sang for the guests of the party, the docent took me to the “guest wing.” Wow! I got to read some letter written by the architect, William Delano. Delano was the uncle of Franklin Delano Roosevelt, and was quite a valuable voice in the 1948-1952 reconstruction of the White House under the Truman Administration. Delano is also the designer of the Truman balcony on the bowed south portico of the White House.

After the elegant party, we returned to Phil’s so he could give me the 10 cent tour of his home. He insisted that he treat me to his hot chocolate with homemade whipped cream and a cap of Buttersnaps! Delicious, and very comforting on a cold December evening. We discussed some of his art work he wished to hang and a variety of other topics – running out of time with 1:15am. I returned home at 2:10am and went straight to bed, but hating to close my eyes… what a fun evening – so different from what I generally experience.

Friday evening I finished teaching and once Matt got home from work at 8:00pm I drove Matt and Jose to the church we have been attending for a youth lock-in. Since the boys were still fairly new to this church, I decided they would only stay until midnight to ease their comfort zone. I dropped them off and then hurried to ACTION to meet with some families. I returned to the church around 10:30pm and discovered one of the chaperones was ill and could not make it, and the other chaperone was heading to bed promptly after pizza. Only 15 or so teenagers were expected, but 32 arrived! I took pity on poor Pastor Monte who was to chaperone all 32 teenagers in a three story church. Jose began asking Monte if he would please see if he and Matt could stay all night…

Thus began a very long night. The best part was getting to have several moments to chat with Monte. There have been so few good ministers whose work/sermons I totally respect, admire and can sit through without being critical – Mike Johnson and Steve Makofka have to be two of the best I have known. Finally, I can add a third – Monte Stevens. These three men are tremendous speakers, as well as excellent ministers.

Around 7:30am, Monte and I began waking those who were still sleeping, and they packed up and departed by 8:30am. Although I was exhausted, it was such a delightful time. The teens were great, and I really enjoyed getting to know a few.

I slept until around 11:00am, and then worked for a few hours and decided to take a nap – which lasted until 5:30pm. I ate supper with the boys and then returned to bed with a book. I am sure I will still be catching up on rest the remainder of the coming week… but it was worth it.

Yesterday I had this strange sensation in my stomach as the afternoon hours ticked away – there was a snow storm coming! The meteorological indicated it would begin around 4:00pm. My students began arriving at 2:15pm, each hoping for a snow day. I was concerned for some of my high school students when Tyler Allen, one of my basses, was outlining the Symphonic Chorale and vocal jazz groups’ evening performance. I would not want my child driving in such conditions. Tyler assured me he would not be driving.

I was concerned that the snow storm has begun up north when Nate Stevens, my 3:15pm voice student from Vandalia (about 20 miles to the north) did not show. At 4:15, as I started Jill Cordonnier’s hour long piano/saxophone lesson, I noticed a few flakes beginning to fall and within a few minutes it was a snow shower – heavy! At 4:30pm, Nate and his dad, Monte, showed up. Nate got his times mixed up (Mondays he comes at 4:30pm for an hour, and Thursdays he comes at 3:15pm for an hour). I felt sorry sending them back out into the sheet of falling white that by now had covered everything, but I also knew it was only going to get worse.

The Hetzers canceled their lesson after Jill’s and by this time, the call-outs from the school were coming through on the telephone. Terence Kalba, the former ballet star and choreographer, now turned science teacher, stopped by to make sure I knew the dance call-backs for the school’s musical were canceled. We talked for a few minutes and then he hurried home to begin snow plowing his drive.

The traffic in front of our home was moving at a crawl. Matt had left for work, so it was only Jose and I left at home. The perfect time for Chinese!

“Are we ordering it from the restaurant?” Jose asked.

“Foolish boy! When the snow falls hard, our family has never yielded to such practice. We are like the great hunters and we venture forth for our food.”

Jose’s expression registered confusion.

“Get your coat on. We’re going to Wal-Mart and then for Chinese.”

With that, the Happy Wanderer darted for the closet, put on his coat, and grabbed the broom to clear off the snow from the car. In a few minutes we were moving slowly on the snow covered streets. The five minute trip to Wal-Mart took approximately twenty minutes. The parking lot was packed and the store bordered on chaos as people seemed to move at a frantic speed.

In line, we were chatting with one of Jose’s friends. I introduced myself to his mother and as she gave me her name, the Wal-Mart speaker’s blared with an announcement for its “holiday shoppers.” I acknowledged her introduction hoping I would not be quizzed later. She finished her purchase and left. As we neared the parking lot I asked Jose his friend’s name.

“He is Brooks, but I can’t remember his last name.”

“Brooks?”

“Yes. He’s a nice kid.”

I quickly searched for Brooks and his mother in the parking lot, but they had apparently left. I had known Brooks since he was a tiny baby. Brooks’ grandmother, Gladys, was the companion of a dear friend, Bob Johnson, a co-band director with me in Centerville in the early 1990’s. Gladys’ daughter, Diane, had two beautiful children – a daughter, now a sophomore in high school with Matt, and of course, Brooks, who is in Jose’s class. The Spring of 2004 I learned, a year after the fact, that Bob had died. A few weeks later at the Van Buren Middle School awards ceremony, I ran into Diane and I told her I just learned of Bob’s death and would contact her mother. The next day, my grandfather died and of course, I completely forgot about Bob’s passing for a while. I was so upset that I did not recognize Diane last night… so I must make a telephone call to apologize for my slip.

Jose and I finished dinner and made it to the library and home without an incident. I walked Flyer on the high school lawn and then drove over to pick up Matt. We ate some cake and ice cream while watching television for 30 minutes and then the boys retreated to their bedroom with a board game. My dear friend, Jeff Carter, called from Ball State to describe the snow back in Indiana, and to chat about other things until E.R. came on television.

I decided to turn in early and as I was finishing up some Emails, my student, Nate popped on AIM. He told me of the adventure he and his father had on their return to Vandalia – they hit a snow covered curb and damaged their axel. After that, he immediately jumped into discussions of musical theatre, telling me he had listened to a clip of Benjamin Magnuson singing an excerpt from Sweeney Todd on National Public Radio (NPR). Eventually, this conversation led to a lengthy discussion on religion… my early night quickly crept through Letterman’s show and the talk show that follows it… ugh! 1:00am was upon us. I went to bed with a new library book on the Kennedy assassination which was told from all the media coverage. I glanced up at the clock by my bed and it screamed in square red numbers: 3:22am. Argh!!!!!

I woke at 6:30am and immediately noticed the school was dark. Generally the custodians are busy by 6:30am and a few teachers are already preparing for their day. I turned the television on to see that Kettering schools were closed. Matt, however, was up and awake at 6:35am – on the one day that he could have actually remained in bed. Normally, I begin Operation Wake-Up with Matt at 6:40am and it continues until 7:00am. This morning, I returned to my bed and slept until 9:00am.

This morning, he hugged me, hurried back up to grab his towel and hit the shower. It is now 11:30am and he has been upstairs cross-stitching Christmas gifts all morning. Jose and Flyer just returned from playing out in the snow. I think Flyer built a snow man and Jose probably urinated on it… those two can switch roles so fast.

Tonight Matt works and when he returns at 8:00pm, I will drop the boys off at the Lutheran church (where Nate’s father, Monte, is minister) for a partial lock-in party while I head to support group at ACTION Adoption to visit with families who were hopefully granted new children this week. There is one couple in particular, Ted and Annie Caudill, I wish to see. They are dolls! I hope they get their three children from Oregon. They should know by 4:00pm today.

Tomorrow, Matt works, and Jose and I will probably complete some errands and shopping. Afterwards, we might grab pizza and a movie with Nate Stevens, and his younger brother, Adam. Nate and Matt are both sophomores, and Jose and Adam are both in 7th grade. If they cannot join us, then my sons and I will probably continue with the plans.

Sunday after church I will drive down to Cincinnati for Phil’s concert and the dinner afterwards – in my new black suit with red tie and matching cuff links.

I hope it will be a fun-filled weekend.

Today was the first day that I actually felt like driving after Saturday evening’s attempt to recreate Dorothy Hamill’s awe inspiring performance from the 1976 Olympics right on my front steps. I seriously doubt Ms. Hamill attempted a double loop-triple back flip like I did – and with as much success. I did not wear sequins, but damned if I don’t have a short hair cut with a slight bounce!

I first ventured to Meijer to get a light fixture for the boys’ game area in the basement. In the parking lot a car, cutting across the lanes, nearly bashed into the side of my car. Still, I hopped out of the car with a smile, and strolled through the brisk air, smiling.

I use as much caution in supermarket or store aisles as I do in parking lots. Today was no different as I strolled through the newly remodeled and restructured Meijer at the corner of Stroop and Wilmington. I paused at the corner near electronics and then proceeded into the main aisle. A stocky guy, with a long beard and wearing a ball cap whirred around the corner, causing me to jump back. As he passed quickly by – much faster than I could walk – he said, “You people don’t care about handicaps.” I don’t care for rude people. Before I could react, a second wheel chair nearly clipped me as it rounded the corner at top 1924 Indy 500 speed. He, too, had something to say about me being in the way.

Some of the aisles are narrower in Meijers due to the restructuring and it is more difficult to maneuver shopping carts. With the exception of Aldi’s, I normally take two boys with me so I can avoid using a cart – we fill up with what we can carry so unnecessary purchases are hopefully avoided. Today I had a cart for the light fixture. One gentleman came up from behind me at top shopping cart speed and was annoyed that I could not, or would not, maintain his speed – and I was NOT sauntering along. I was moving at DLJH speed which is not slow by any means. I pulled into an aisle to let him pass. I thought I heard him say, “Jeesh…” but then I don’t know if the comment came from me due to the stench of body odor and three week old smoke that reeked from his navy blue Carhart’s as he passed me, leaving me gasping for air.

After gathering my items I hurried through the store to the check-out lane. I unloaded my items onto the conveyer belt (those black belts have fascinated me since childhood!) behind a disgruntled elderly lady who was fussing over the discrepancy between a listed price and the cash register’s. The associate got on the telephone, which I did not mind, as I was in no hurry. My items were unloaded and I moved the shopping cart around to the other empty carts. Another lady stepped into the line and I came around from the front since I could not get past her cart.

“You cut in line,” came this icy voice.

I turned to explain that I had simply taken my cart to the empty cart corral.

“You could have done it after your purchase.”

“Yes, I could have, but I decided to use my time wisely while waiting on this price check.”

With that, the elderly lady disputing the register’s price turned and said, “Well, I am sorry I have inconvenienced you, young man.”

Dear God!

“I wasn’t complaining at all, Mam. And thank you for calling me a ‘young man.'”

She snuffed, “I was being sarcastic since you were rude enough to tell everyone I am holding up the line.”

For once, my brain shut off all function to my mouth and I only thought, “You were not being sarcastic, you were being a complete bitch!”

The lady behind me chimed in, telling the couple who had joined our line how rude I had been to her and the lady in front of me. I turned to look at the sympathetic couple who seemed to sense she was a “real piece of work.” Finally, the rascally Price-O-Dame in front of me departed and the cashier smiled, apologetically.

“It is Bethany Village day. Their bus brings residents over here to shop and some days are worse than others.”

I merely nodded, fearful of opening my mouth with Ice-O-Dame hovering behind me.

In the parking lot, the people waiting at the cross walks in their car were so impatient – which is something I have never understood. In inclement weather, why do some people in cars become impatient with those who are actually out in the weather? They are warm and comfortable in their car!

As I crossed the little road leading to McDonald’s on Stroop Road, a car swerved out in front of me, forcing me to slam on the brakes. I honked and he flipped me off. And to top that off, he did not use a turn signal. On Stroop, I was behind him in the right lane and he was going 20 mph without accelerating. I passed his vehicle and did not even glance his way. Suddenly he was keeping up with me, flipping me off. I smiled and he flipped me off more. I sped up and he kept up with me. I noticed he was coming up on a car in his lane, and there was a car coming up behind me. So, I took that opportunity to raise my hand and dangle my wrist in a “gay” gesture. Wow! Instead of seeing road-rage surface, I saw his gene pool boil over!

In CVS, I hurried to get Matthew’s medicines. Matthew and I took in the order on Monday and they asked if we would mind retrieving them the following day. Since Matt still had enough meds for a few days it was not a problem. That Wednesday morning I waited behind an elderly gentleman who was annoyed that his prescription was not ready after ten minutes. The Pakistani pharmacist – who does not have full command of the English language – was trying to placate the gentleman. The pharmacist returned to his work and the elderly gentleman turned to me, desiring a sympathetic ear.

“I came in and they said it would be ten minutes. It has been twelve.”

I chuckled and said, “I brought mine in Monday afternoon and it is finally ready on Wednesday morning.”

With that, the elderly gentleman leaned across the counter and shouted, “This man has been waiting since Monday for his prescription!”

The dark eyes of the pharmacist shot up at me with a glare. “Dear God,” I thought. “Now Paschal is going to be even more short with me.” I could not even muster an understanding facial expression to soothe the moment as the elderly gentleman proceeded to complain. By this time I wanted to shove Grumps’ neck into the pressure cup on the blood pressure machine, and hit the reset button each time the mechanical voice said, “Test completed.”

Back at home, I quickly grabbed my items from the car and darted into the house at stealth speed.

The weekend is over…

Friday I finished teaching at 6:15pm and hurried to ACTION Adoption to teach a class to prospective adoptive parents. Afterwards, I chatted with some former students, Ted and Annie, who will be going to committee on Thursday with the state of Oregon for three young children.

Saturday, I prepared lunch in the crock, and then began preparations for Sunday’s breakfast, talking to Jeff Carter on the phone as I played Donna Reed in the kitchen. The boys and I completed some errands and then welcomed Mother, Dena and the boys for the weekend. I had prepared chicken burrito casserole for lunch so we sat down to lunch right after they arrived. Mother pinned up my new suit pants so I could have them hemmed, and then I trotted over to Sheila Magnuson’s to open her chimney flugh.

We walked over to the high school for the dinner & concert, only to find out, an hour before the concert that they had run out of spaghetti. We all hurried back to my house (next door to the high school) to get the cars and drive to Subways. We left Subways to find our cars all iced up and the streets very slick. I let Mother out at the front door and then hurried to park at the church across the street.

The concert was good and certain moments of the show choir portion were quite entertaining. Will O’Hanlon’s portrayal of Elvis, and Daniel’s rappin’ Rudolph were fantastic! Following the concert we moved to the commons where they served desert.

We left the high school around 9:40pm to a world of ice. As Jose and I crossed the street in front of the high school I could not even get up the wheelchair incline. The parking lot was full of cheerful scrapers and we all laughed as we scraped windows with a 1/4 inch of ice. Finally, I hurried over to the end of the east unit to pick up Mother and Matt while Dena waited for her windows to defrost.

Back in our driveway I let Mother out and pulled up further so Dena would have room. Matt assisted Mother and as I stepped off the porch to help in the assist, my feet flew out from under me and I landed full force on the steps, falling right on my wrist, side (kidney) and hip. I sat there for several minutes unable to move and refusing Mother’s suggestion of calling an ambulance. Finally, I was able to move and entered the house. I could move, but was pretty stiff.

I sent an Email to my friend, Phil, to let him know that despite the weather and my fall, I still intended on coming to Cincy the following afternoon. The telephone immediately rang as instant messages from Phil began popping up on the computer screen – Phil pointed out that the concert series was not this weekend but next weekend. Whew!

Sunday morning I woke with no bruises! Very sore, but no bruises. After church, we ate Chinese and the family returned to Indiana. I took a nap, and then Jose and I went to a movie while Matt remained home to work on some Christmas gifts.

Today, Monday, I am achy, but mobile!

Monday morning, my friend, Phil Clary, a choral director in Cincinnati invited me to attend a performance of a professional ensemble to which he belongs for this coming weekend. Since Matt has his high school choral concert on Saturday (with family coming in), I could only attend Sunday’s afternoon concert. Phil indicated that following that particular concert, would I be available to attend a formal dinner party as his guest. Generally, I wear a tux to most formal affairs or when conducting or performing – but Phil indicated this was only a suit and tie affair.

I have not worn a suit in ages. I put out an Email of desperation to friends in the area who are expert shoppers. I was directed to Value City where friends were purchasing suits for $69. Knowing these folks, who always look nice, I had faith I would find success. And boy, did I!

I immediately found the suit – a black suit with four buttons. After a quick call to Amanda Berlon regarding “power ties,” Matt, Jose and I began the next leg of the search – shirt and tie. Jose immediately found a scarlet tie with small blue and black rectangles. The cuff links were covered in the same material as the tie. Very sharp. Then, we located a Pierre Cardin shirt which required cuff links.

What a smart looking ensemble… and this has to be the most dull blog I have ever written!

INSTRUCTIONS FOR LIFE
in the new millennium from the Dalai Lama:
1. Take into account that great love and great achievements involve great risk.
2. When you lose, don’t lose the lesson.
3. Follow the three Rs:

a. Respect for self
b. Respect for others
c. Responsibility for your actions.

4. Remember that not getting what you want is sometimes a wonderful stroke of luck.
5. Learn the rules so you know how to break them properly.
6. Don’t let a little dispute injure a great friendship.
7. When you realize you’ve made a mistake, take immediate steps to correct it.
8. Spend some time alone every day.
9. Open your arms to change but don’t let go of your values.
10. Remember that silence is sometimes the best answer.
11. Live a good, honorable life. Then when you get older and think back, you’ll be able to enjoy it a second time.
12. A loving atmosphere in your home is the foundation for your life.
13. In disagreements with loved ones, deal only with the current situation. Don’t bring up the past.
14. Share your knowledge. It’s a way to achieve immortality.
15. Be gentle with the earth.
16. Once a year, go someplace you’ve never been before.
17. Remember that the best relationship is one in which your love for each other exceeds your need for each other.
18. Judge your success by what you had to give up in order to get it.
19. Approach love and cooking with reckless abandon.

“Trust yourself. Create the kind of self that you will be happy to live with all your life. Make the most of yourself by fanning the tiny, inner sparks of possibility into flames of achievement.” ~ Foster C. McClellan

“Watch your thoughts; they become words. Watch your words; they become actions. Watch your actions; they become habits. Watch your habits; they become character. Watch your character; it becomes your destiny. When we walk to the edge of all the light we have, and take the step into the darkness of the unknown, we must believe that one of two things will happen. There will be something solid for us to stand on… or we will be taught to fly.” ~ Frank Outlaw

“No pessimist ever discovered the secrets of the stars, or sailed to an uncharted land, or opened a new heaven to the human spirit.” ~ Helen Keller

“Are you disappointed, discouraged and discontented with your present level of success? Are you secretly dissatisfied with your present status? Do you want to become a better and more beautiful person than you are today? Would you like to be able to really learn how to be proud of yourself and still not lose genuine humility? Then start dreaming! Its possible! You can become the person you have always wanted to be!” ~ Robert H. Schuller

“Champions aren’t made in the gyms. Champions are made from something they have deep inside them—a desire, a dream, a vision.” ~ Muhammad Ali

“Become a Possibilitarian. No matter how dark things seem to be or actually are, raise your sights and see possibilities—always see them, for they’re always there.”

~ Norman Vincent Peale

Since posting my submission on “acceptance” I have received a number of Emails and a few comments posted on that particular blog from my friends, Sue Branson and Jeff Carter. At first I thought my posting was a bit too sophomoric, a mere complaint about a family tiff. The overwhelming support from Emails is greatly appreciated, as are the posts on the post itself.

This weekend, it was heavily discussed with Mother and Dena. At one point Mother said she wanted to have a photograph taken of “all five of my grandsons.” Whether Destin, or his wife, will permit their son to share in the image making moment is uncertain, but I would not wish to be either of them if such a moment is opposed. I have a feeling Mother and Dena will allow the hidden tigress to appear.

I think back on all the support I received when I introduced the process, and then Matt’s adoption. Mother and I are very similar in the fact that we seldom shed tears. I am not opposed to such a display of emotion for myself – it is just not something that comes readily. I remember twice in a less than three weeks when I saw my mother cry – when she viewed Matt’s video sent up from Texas and the day she talked to Matt on the telephone when she was visiting for a production of Joseph & The Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. The video of Matthew, which I showed him on his 16th birthday, was just downright pathetic. The depressed, lifeless little creature, all but having given up being adopted at age 12, presenting a brave front to the world, hoping… just hoping that someone might desire to take him home. It was much like going to a kennel and looking at the little puppies, or worse yet, older dogs, behind the cages, their big eyes imploring you to take them home…

I have never heard, “But you are a single dad, you cannot adopt.” Nor have I ever heard, “The aren’t really yours.” I would probably enter in to a violent moment on the last, as Matthew and Jose are most definitely my sons. There are times when I forget they have not been around all their life and I must remind myself that they have missed out on some moments in our family. Matt is probably more like a son than any biological son could be – he has my focus, my desire to be of help to others, my ability to be alone, and the quiet side of my nature. Jose has my wicked sense of humor, the very gregarious side of me when not desiring to be alone, my zest for living and my need to laugh often. Damn the genes and the DNA, they are my sons, and always shall be.

My friends were all supportive and could not wait for Matthew, and any other son to arrive. The only time I feel obligated to explain our family’s story is when old friends from college contact me and I must bring them up to date.

There was one moment in Kroger which was priceless. The boys were standing with me in a very long line and a couple stood behind us. “The taller boy must be his and the Hispanic boy a friend,” I heard them say quietly. I remembered something we needed and I sent the boys back for the items. As Jose took off he said, “Be right back, Father.” I could see the couple exchange glances and she told her husband, “He must look like his mother.” I turned and said, “They both look like each of their mothers.” And how I wanted to add, “And I have never been married!”

Most people, when learning of our family’s story, comment that what I am doing is “heroic.” There is nothing heroic about being a father. I do not feel as though I have “saved” my sons. I, like millions of other families throughout the world, created my family. Adoption is nothing new. In the Bible, one of the oldest collections of stories, there are a number of stories regarding adoption:
1) Moses was adopted by the pharaoh
2) Jesus was adopted by Joseph
3) Mary, the Mother of Christ, took James as her son at the bidding of Jesus when he was dying on the cross.

I have been reading several books on President Theodore Roosevelt and his eldest daughter, Alice. Princess Alice, as she was known to the world during and after her father’s presidency (1901-1909), was quite a colorful character. When her father told her that she was not permitted to smoke under his roof, she merely crawled out a White House window onto the roof and smoked there – but not under his roof. She jumped fully clothed into a swimming pool and drove her friend’s automobile at a dangerously excessive speed of 30 mph. A cabinet member told President Roosevelt he should exercise more control over his daughter. Roosevelt replied, “I can be president or I can attempt to manage Alice… I simply cannot do both.”

A young Theodore Roosevelt married Alice Lee in 1883 – one of the most beautiful women in America. While Roosevelt was serving in the New York General Assembly, he was summoned home when his wife gave birth on February 14, 1884, to a bouncing baby girl. When he arrived at his home, he was greeted by his brother, Elliott (the father of Eleanor Roosevelt) and told, “Mother is dying and Alice is too.” A few hours later, Theodore’s mother died from typhoid fever, and shortly thereafter, Alice died in his arms from Bright’s Disease. Theodore wrote, “When my beloved Alice died, the light of my life went out forever.” Baby Alice survived and was raised by her aunt, Anna “Bamie” Roosevelt. A few years later, Teddy remarried Edith, an old family friend, and this union produced four sons and a daughter. Although Alice’s step-mother treated her as her own, Alice often was treated shabbily by her half-siblings who sometimes taunted her about not having a mother of her own and having to share theirs with her.

As I read this familiar story last night, I was troubled by the thought that my own sons, unbeknownst to them, as also being taunted like Princess Alice. Their own uncle, the biological brother of their father, is just as heartless and cruel as the young Roosevelt children. I am sure they have had friends make thoughtless comments, and if so they have not been expressed here at home.

One of my favorite stories happened just before Jose came to live with us. Diabetes runs on both sides of my family lines, and the doctor once told Mother than her children had a 100% chance of being diabetic. In August 2004, Mother told me over the telephone one evening that Dad had been diagnosed with diabetes. I promptly said, “Well, my chances have increased even more.” Then it hit both Mother and myself – we sat there laughing. But, my blond moment actually said something more – there was no question in my mind or heart that David Haas had never at any time, not been my dad. A week or so later, Matthew and I were returning to Elwood for a weekend visit, and I told him that Grandpa Haas had been to the doctor and was told he had diabetes. Matthew asked, “Does that mean I will get it too since it is also hitting the men in our family?”

I said earlier in this posting that I seldom cry, but that could have been one of those moments when it would have come so easy. I never mentioned anything to Matthew about the lack of biological connection and simply said, “Well, if you watch your diet, exercise and get your blood checked regularly, you can stay on top of it.”

Acceptance…

A week from tonight Thanksgiving will be a day past… we will still be filling up on leftover turkey and all the sides… my sons and I will probably be returning from the tree lighting at the Circle in Indianapolis…

I have never truly gotten caught up in the whole theme of Thanksgiving, and it becomes less important to me as I grow older. Throughout the year we have a number of dinners at Mother’s with the family, and the only thing different about the last Thursday of November is that our dinners consist of turkey and the familiar accompaniments. I am not any more thankful on Thanksgiving than I am at any other time when the family is gathered, and I am not any more thankful on that day than any other day throughout the year. I can remember being agitated in the days following the tragedies of 9/11 when there was such a wave of patriotism… I guess I could not digest the reasoning behind the need to suddenly boast of patriotism because we were contemplating war when we should have been flying our American flags daily. I also observe this a good deal with Sundays – it is so much easier to be a Christian on Sunday than it is the remaining six days of the week.

Due to a recent episode in my family, I guess I am stepping forward to voice my blessings, one in particular. Acceptance.

This past weekend our family was blessed with visits from very dear friends, Chris Hetzer (an adopted child), Jeff Carter (an adoptive father), AJ (an adopted child), and Phil Clary (a pre-adoptive father.) We also spent several hours at the national adoption month party, hosted by ACTION Adoption, where my family was reunited with other adoptive parents and adopted children. My sister, brother and I were adopted by our step-father, David Haas, and I have had several cousins who were adopted. In all the years since my adoption, never have I ever experienced a moment of not feeling accepted by my dad, or being treated as such.

When I began considering adoption, I immediately shared this with my mother. Not one ounce of apprehension did she display. In fact, Mother and Dena have been beyond description in how they have supported me as a single adoptive father and in how they have accepted and loved my sons as their own. The one person I imagined voicing any slight objections was my 80 year old grandfather. I am ashamed to even admit that I was apprehensive about telling him as he made sure I had twin beds (“big boy beds”) to welcome my son(s). In fact, his last major trip in April 2004, before his surgery that eventually led to the end of his life, was to my home in Kettering, Ohio to deliver two frames for two more twin beds (thanks to Grandpa I have four twin beds!). Grandpa’s sister, my Aunt Norma, and her husband, Jack, have, like Mother, Dena, Dad, Uncle Tom, Uncle Danny, Aunt Bonnie and Grandpa, been so accepting of me and my family. When Aunt Norma signs off her Emails, “Much love to my three Ohio boys,” it doesn’t get much better than that.

Much of my telephone and home visits with Mother are about our days, but mostly about the boys, and my still seemingly new role as a dad. Although I still feel very much my mother’s son, it is seldom lost on me that she has welcomed me into her world as a fellow-parent. Mother is terribly supportive of me as a single father, but never criticizes or advises. And it makes sense why she would not – she was the one who raised me. If I am a great parent, it is due to her; if I am a lousy parent, I have only my self to blame. Like Mother, I demand and expect my sons to do their best in all aspects of life… the rest falls into place.

My sons adore their Grandma and Aunt Dena, and are always eager for visits – especially back in Indiana. Mother, like her mother, grandmothers and great-grandmothers before her, has carried on brilliantly in the tradition of our family’s rich heritage of wonderful grandmothers. There is no distinction between my sons and Dena’s sons – to Mother, they are all her grandsons. End of story.

That’s acceptance.

Last weekend was a beautiful reminder of something for which I am terribly grateful: acceptance. I was surrounded by loving friends who not only accepted me as an adoptive parent, but accepted Matthew and Jose as my sons. We went to the party and were immersed in a world of acceptance – people who had built their families.

For whatever reason, my younger brother, Destin, has not accepted my sons. In fact, I seriously doubt he even accepts my sister, Dena, or myself, as he tends to have a “holier-than-thou” attitude about anyone who is not related to his wife. Since his marriage in 2000, he has become more critical of our family while always pretending to wave olive branches and attempting to raise himself above our family. It has been sad to see this talented young man develop such a non-accepting, self-centered attitude towards a family that has always been close and dedicated to one another. However, I also recognize and respect the fact that he is an adult making his own decisions.

Last summer, Destin’s first child, Parker, was born. When Dena gave birth to her sons, Jonathan and Andrew, I was there for each arrival and held each nephew after his birth. When Parker was born, Destin wasted no time to call his friends, his barber included, but did not make an effort to call his own biological brother. I had been in correspondence (E-mail) with him most of the week, eagerly awaiting the arrival of a new niece or nephew. I did not voice my displeasure and hurt at not having been called, and even allowed myself to make excuses for him, all the while knowing I just don’t rank as high as those whom he accepts.

A week later, Dena and her sons were actually invited to Destin’s home to visit Parker. We were all surprised as invitations from him and his wife are rare, and if our family visits they are generally kept outside in the backyard or garage while Destin & Stacia’s friends and their friends’ children are invited inside their home. Dena’s sons were only allowed to touch the bottom of Parker’s feet (to prevent the spread of germs!), however, Dena learned shortly thereafter that the children of Desint & Stacia’s friends had already been holding Parker. That first week after his birth, as Dena was holding Parker, Destin said, “How does it feel to be holding your first nephew?” Dena replied that she already had two nephews and that she was not new to the “aunt business.” Destin then said, “No, I mean your first real nephew.”

Needless to say, Dena was furious. My mother was furious. I was furious, and hurt.

My sister suggested a very creative joint-gift for Mother’s Christmas gift in which we would all be involved. Last night Destin asked Dena point-blank, “Are Jake, Matt and… or whoever he included in this?” Dena said, “Yes.” Dena’s response pretty well shut him down, but it seemed to drive another thrust of the knife of non-acceptance into my heart.

Tonight when I hung up from chatting with Dena on the telephone, I headed into an adoptive parent support group meeting, struggling to calm the hurt, and slight agitation. As I sat looking around the room at some fifty families, I heard, numerous times, the gratitude of my fellow adoptive parents. I realized that we all shared one common bond – acceptance. We had accepted strangers into our homes and lives – calling them our sons and daughters. We all had family and friends who accepted these strangers into their hearts and families.

So, this Thanksgiving, I am grateful for acceptance from my family, my friends, my colleagues, my students and their parents, and so many with whom I come in contact. I don’t think any man could feel as blessed at this moment as I do…

As parents, we often tell our kids that we want them to “act responsibly,” or, “show respect,” or, that “consequences are the results of their actions.” But, do they know what that means? Of course, we hope that our actions are teaching them these things. But sometimes, especially with kids who have various emotional or mental health issues – learning disabilities, autistic behaviors, a sense of entitlement – they need examples clarified.

I am always searching for or creating new things to help re-enforce the tools I am trying to provide. This is a new list:

Your day will be filled with happiness, if you want it to be.

You have to strain your brain to learn new things.

Life is hard, and fun, and boring, and exciting.

Sometimes you have to do things you don’t want to do.

Life has a mix of things we want to do and things we don’t want to do.

You get to choose what kind of day you want to have.

Good choices bring positive consequences – things you like.

Poor choices brings negative consequences – things you don’t like.

Respectful means thinking about other people and being polite.

Responsible means remembering what you need to do and doing it.

One respectful minute is not enough to earn privileges.

One responsible minute is not enough to earn privileges.

Being respectful for part of a day is not enough.

Being responsible for part of the day is not enough.

Everyone is treated according to how they act.

If you learn to be a good friend, you’ll have friends.

If you act responsibly all of the time, you’ll be given new privileges.

If you act respectfully all the time, you’ll be given new privileges.

You have to remember to be respectful all the time, not just sometimes.

You have to remember to be responsible all the time, not just sometimes.

You don’t have to know all the answers, just where to find the information.

Kids who get mad get consequences they don’t like.

Kids who are rude get consequences they don’t like.

Kids who remember the rules at home have more fun.

Kids who remember the rules at school have more fun.

Last night, after a great dinner at Ruby Tuesdays, Jeff, AJ and I went to see Ragtime at Wright State. This musical’s construction is so impressive, and the music haunts me throughout the day. I know it will be my fourth, and last time to see it and it still moved me greatly…

The musical begins with the powerful song “Ragtime”, which is uniquely staged. Right from the start of the musical the audience is introduced to the multiple narrators of the show. It begins with three separate groups of people: the upper class whites from New Rochelle, the lower class blacks of Harlem, and the newly arrived immigrants on Ellis Island, all singing the same song simultaneously on stage, yet set apart by class. As the song continues, other key players of the time are introduced such as Harry Houdini the great escape artist, the radical anarchist Emma Goldman, J.P. Morgan the richest man in America, and Evelyn Nesbit the famous chorus girl. Each of these characters has individual beliefs and represents a particular aspect of the time, yet they all play significant roles in the definition of America.

In order to truly understand the era of Ragtime, each separate character adds to the colorful mosaic that makes up the US during this pre-WWI time. The multiple perspectives seen in “Ragtime” can be compared to the writings of John Dos Pasos, in his novels The 42nd Parallel, 1919, and The Big Money. Like Dos Pasos, Ragtime aims to observe the lives of the ten narrators, and also follow their interactions and influences on each other, no matter how large or small they may be. It is through these multiple points of view that the audience is able to understand the differences in the society that presented so many obstacles for some and a dream life for others. Although each narrator may not directly interact with another character, we can see the individual influence each life has on this society through the song “Till We Reach That Day”.

This song brings all the narrators on stage together to mourn the death of Sarah, a lower class black woman who is the victim of a racial beating. Again, all sing the same song, yet they are not all in the same vicinity. Each of the characters takes their own separate place on stage as they sing of the loss of this woman who has somehow touched their life. Particularly in this scene, we see the aspect of simultaneity put into effect as each character reflects on the same incident, that affects each of them differently. Like Faulkner, the characters attempt to make sense of their own identities in relation to the society around them.

Due to the multiple narrators of the story, there is constant shifting from scene to scene throughout the musical. These scenes do not necessarily follow a particular time sequence, as the story is presented in a fragmented form.

Ragtime presents a panoramic view of life in the United States during the early 1900’s. This show dares to go beyond the sentimental aspects of musical theater and introduces its audiences to a new, experimental, style of performing art. Through its strong music, composed by Stephen Flaherty, and realistic lyrics, written by Lynn Ahrens, this musical captures the hearts of its audiences through the images and sounds that portray the Ragtime era.

When one thinks of a musical, one may associate this term with catchy songs and dances that often have happy endings, yet Ragtime goes beyond entertainment value and instead explains a time in our history. The writers of the musical could have easily fabricated the music, lyrics and story line to make it audience-friendly. By conforming to the normal musical expectations, Ragtime would have been placed in the same group as musicals such as Sound Of Music and Oklahoma, where the audience leaves the theater humming the music with grins on their faces. This musical does not just present the audience with beautiful songs, but also leaves a lasting impression of the events that defined the early 1900’s before World War I, and succeeds in explaining this graphic two hour history lesson while keeping the audience entertained.

The musical Ragtime challenges the norms of musical theater through its vivid portrayals of the realistic life during the early 1900’s. Like Faulkner, this musical attempts to push the limits of coherence, through its fragmented format. Yet, at the same time it stimulates the minds of its audiences by presenting complex problems each character faces, in true to life circumstances. But perhaps the experimental aspects that Flaherty and Ahrens present in the story line, lyrics and music are the most important parallels that Ragtime shares with cubist literature. This musical represents a time when everything was new and anything was possible. A time when experimentation was encouraged and identities were formed. Ragtime can be seen as a separate work of art in itself, which goes beyond the boundaries of a musical play, and instead brings fiction and true history together to recreate life during the turn of the century.

Photos from another production of Ragtime: http://images.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://www.e2groove.com/files/houdinithm.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.e2groove.com/ragtime.html&h=150&w=143&sz=8&tbnid=iDr1DNGMehwJ:&tbnh=90&tbnw=85&hl=en&start=43&prev=/images%3Fq%3DRagtime,%2Bthe%2Bmusical%26start%3D40%26svnum%3D10%26hl%3Den%26lr%3D%26rls%3DGGLD,GGLD:2003-44,GGLD:en%26sa%3DN

What another wonderful week! Ups, downs, warm weather, busy schedules… ah! It doesn’t get much better!

Jose did not make the basketball team for his middle school, and though he was down that evening when he returned home, his positive and fun-loving spirit had returned by morning. He requested to leave for school early so he could congratulate those who made it. Prior to the try-outs, he and I had discussed the “what if’s” a number of times. So, he proved to be a little trooper. Jose now has his sights set on cross country.

Wednesday evening was the choral boosters meeting. I detest meetings, unless they are production meetings for a show; however, this is an important support group since it is for our children. The grouping of personalities is always a marvel to me. I love observing those who seem to gently grip onto their power and control. In discussing the show choir invitational after the meeting had closed, I was indirectly told that my suggestions or recommendations were fairly out of sync and that I should “go to more contests to observe how they are run” as this parent had done. I was so polite and acknowledged their suggestion as other parents who know my background attempted to keep straight faces.

There was no school Friday and I went to see the new music facilities with Brody so I could assist with the head-up of the big move form the old choral room to the new facilities. I am just blown away by the new performing arts wing – HUGE! The band room I am dubbing Meijer’s West as it is spacious. Afterwards, band directors Mike Berning and Tim Parker sat in the choir room with Brody and I and chewed the fat a bit.

At noon I met Sheila Magnuson to hear the scoop on the actual opening weekend of Sweeney Todd. Wow! Benjamin has really hit a dream. Friday after opening night, Stephen Sondheim invited the cast of ten and the directors to a party at his home (he lives next door to where Katherine Hepburn lived). He spent several hours just chatting with Benjamin and then took him upstairs to his music room. Sondheim invited Benjamin to play his piano, and then afterwards told him it was Leonard Bernstein’s piano. What a dream this boy is living.

Friday evening, Jeff Carter and AJ arrived from Muncie for a wonderful visit. We went to dinner at Ruby Tuesday, then picked up Chris Hetzer who spent the weekend with us while his family traveled to Michigan for family business. After dinner, Jeff, AJ and I went to see Ragtime… ahhh… I still cannot get that show’s design and structure out of my system. We left Wright State and went to Brody’s where he was having a Man Night Party. There were about five other guys there, mostly choir dads, throwing darts and enjoying Brody’s concoctions from his well stocked bar. Jeff and Brody got to chat shop for a bit and seemed to hit it off. Around 1:30am, we headed home.

Saturday morning, I woke at 6:00am and worked a little before showering. Jeff woke and we talked for a while. After showers were completed, the six of us headed to First Watch to have breakfast, and then to Towne & Country so Jeff could buy some things from Trader Joe’s.

After saying goodbye to our dear guests, the three boys and I headed to the National Adoption Month party hosted by ACTION Adoption. We stayed there for about three hours and then returned home so Matt could head to work. My friend, Phil Clary, a choir director from Cincinnati, called en route from a wedding in Bowling Green. He stopped by and stayed until 2:00am.

Sunday, we spent a leisurely morning playing video games, cars, etc. (OK, I worked while the boys played). At 3:00pm we drove a few blocks over to Sheila Magnuson’s to take in her summer furniture and swing, and to do a few items for her since Benjamin can’t seem to find time to leave his Broadway show to assist his mother. Sheila made cookies for the boys (we don’t accept $ for doing neighborly things). After dinner, Bill Hetzer came to pick up Chris, thus ending a weekend of having wonderful people in our home, and in our lives.

Photo of Benjamin Magnuson on Broadway in Sweeney Todd…

It is a slightly dreary Sunday morning… the wind was strong all night and continues to blow steady and hard. I took Flyer for a walk wearing shorts and a pullover, and I was very comfortable.

Friday morning, I slept for several hours after taking the BGSU men to the church and waking the boys. I realized that I could definitely keep up with 19 and 20 year olds, but the recovery is hell! Friday was the longest day – by 5:00pm it seemed much like 10:00pm. I took Flyer for a walk at 1:00pm to generate more energy and Brody was home between middle school choir and his last two high school choirs. I brought Marcus home with us and the dogs, rather than play outside in the beautiful weather, decided to curl up next to me while I took another – much needed – nap. The evening was uneventful, but restful.

Saturday, we were out of bed early and I drove Matt over to the high school for the show choir to load the busses and take off for the show choir competition in Columbus, Ohio. Amanda Berlon, the mother of one of my piano students, Zach, picked me up at 12:15pm. Her husband, Scott, was with their youngest son, Caleb, at his soccer game. After that was over, Scott and Caleb picked up Jose so he could spend the day with them. I have grown fond of Scott and Amanda over the past few years. Zach and Matt have been good friend and spend a good deal of time with one another in the choir and show choir, and Jose and Caleb are in the same grade, best buds, and sports nuts. The Berlons and I are very similar in our parenting, our personalities and our sense of humor.

Amanda and I seldom have a quiet moment between us, and I believe we covered – in the 190 minute round trip – everything from cooking to parenting to sports to choir to adoption… The contest was good and both our show choir, Illusion, and our women’s show choir, Mirage, made the cut for the evening finals. Amanda and I cut out for dinner at O’Charley’s and returned for the night finals. Fairmont’s ladies placed 4th and Illusion placed 3rd. Had Olentangy HS not bowed out of finals due to an evening conflict, Mirage would not have made the cut, and Illusion would have been 4th. Teays Valley and ETC, both Ohio show choirs, are absolutely phenomenal. I could watch their shows over and over.

Amanda and I returned a little after 11:00pm, and the busses pulled in after midnight. I picked up Matt and Zach, and drove Zach home. This morning, Sunday, I allowed the boys to sleep in. I took Flyer on our mile walk and tried to call my mother but she and my sister were en route to Northwestern Indiana for the christening of my brother’s son.

Today, Sunday, at 2:00pm we will be in Springfield, Ohio for the memorial service of a lovely lady, Helen Reed, who sang in my church choir and was my music librarian. Helen was a darling lady, and her physical presence will surely be missed at Faith In Christ Lutheran Church.

Then, at 6:00pm, we will head south to Cincinnati to see my friend, Phil Clary, perform in Xavier University’s production, Sweeney Todd. Phil is a choral director in a Cincy School and has been invited back as a guest artist to perform the role of “Pirelli.”

Last Thursday, my former student, Benjamin Magnuson, officially opened as “Anthony” in Sweeney Todd on Broadway. Last Sunday, his mother, Sheila, and I spent the entire day together, seeing Ragtime at WSU and then enjoying the remainder of the evening listening to a master class Benjamin had at CCM with Kristen Chenowith! Ahhh! What a thing to hear! Sheila says that Benjamin and Stephen Sondheim, the famous Broadway composer, have become great friends and Sondheim is commonly referred to as “Steve.” Sheila flew to NYC for the opening preview and this Thursday’s offical opening night and party – so I will have more details once she returns and we connect.

Monday and Wednesday are show choir nights with suppers after 9:00pm. Jose has basketball tryouts and he is feeling the pressure.

Tuesday is my longest day of teaching and then off to catch the second half a concert for one of my students.

Thursday, following a tight schedule of teaching, my co-writers and I are off to catch Ragtime at Wright State.

Friday, the boys do not have school and we may do something fun in the morning. Our dear family friends, Bill & Kay Hetzer will be traveling to Michigan and their son, Chris, will be spending the entire weekend with us so that I can get him to basketball tryouts. At some point, our dear friends Jeff Carter, the BSU Singers director, and his son, AJ, will be coming for a visit. That evening we will be attending Ragtime at WSU.

Saturday afternoon is the National Adoption Month party and I will be taking Matt, Jose and Chris to that event.

I really do not know what the rest of that particular weekend will have in store, but I think it may be set aside as a definite day of rest for this 41 year old!

Ok… time to rally the troops and get life moving here.

Less than an hour ago, I drove my five guests from the Bowling Green State University’s Men’s Chorus across the street to join 130 of their fellow singers on the busses. What great guys these were!

The BGSU Men’s Chorus was, at one time, one of the finest in the nation. It was the era of gang wars and bathtub gin, but the “Roaring Twenties” were fairly quiet on the campus of a young teaching school in northwest Ohio, Bowling Green State Normal College. The quietness was broken in 1923 by the sounds of the first Men’s Glee Club. The chorus began touring Ohio and later sang as far away as Chicago and Niagara Falls. Unfortunately, the group’s first golden age dimmed bit by bit as World War II pulled away the choristers. The once-great group contained only 15 members when it disbanded. The chorus was reunited after the war, and in the late 1940s, the baton passed to Dr. James Paul Kennedy. Under his direction, the chorus survived until 1953.

The sound of men’s voices raised in song vanished from the campus until 1971, when Professor Richard D. (affectionately known as RD) Mathey revived the group. From a membership of 12, the chorus has grown into the active touring chorus it is today, with a membership well above 100. Mathey retired in 2000 after an incredibly successful 28 years at the helm.

My good friend, Brody McDonald, sang with the ensemble all throughout college and is probably the undisputed protege of RD Mathey. I have met this treasured soul several times and it is easy to see just why the chorus was as powerful as it was under his reign.

The men sang at Christ Methodist Church at 7:00pm, and following the concert the men were introduced to their host families. I had always been fortunate to have the best host families when I was at Ball State, and I was determined to be the best for my guests. Immediately there was chemistry between the Haas family and the five comedic tenors who spent the evening with us. After their luggage was piled into the trunk, two rode with me back across the street while Matt and Jose escorted the other three.

They settled quickly, making themselves at home. I don’t think Moses and his people witnessed any swarm of locusts that could empty an entire empire as quickly as these guys did with four pizzas and numerous liters of soda. We listened to several numbers of RD’s BGSU Men’s Chorus CD’s, and spent the rest of the evening laughing and chatting – but mostly laughing. Suddenly, I was no longer 41, but 20 again, and sitting up laughing until… well, the first went to bed at 2:00am. The others, knowing they had a 6:00am bus call, continued to impersonate Bill Cosby, Looney Tunes, Mickey Mouse and a host of other notables. At 3:00am, the last four college guys decided to head to bed.

We were originally told the church would be hosting a breakfast, but learned Thursday night that we should provide something. So, at 3:20am, I took off for Wal-Mart to get some roles, donuts and bagels. I had a ton! At 5:30am, most of it was gone. The boys dressed back in their tuxes following a procession to the shower, and we loaded their luggage, and along with Flyer, piled into the car. At the busses, the current director rushed up to pet Flyer who was thrilled to be around so many people. The boys told their director that they wanted me to adopt all five of them. And, as nice (and funny) as these guys are, Brian Beckwith, Tyler Hawk, Lamont Green, Adam Cramer and Josh Sanders would make great sons!

To learn more about the BGSU Men’s Chorus, please visit their website:
http://www.harmonize.com/bgmc/aboutus/index.html

In 1997, when I was in NYC to direct The Wizard of Oz, I attempted to see two musicals – Titanic and Ragtime. Titanic was still in previews and the two attempts to see it were blocked due to the hydraulic system not working – the ship would not sink! I had just as much luck getting in to see Ragtime which was sold out both times.

In 2000, the national tour company of Ragtime came through Dayton. I did not purchase my ticket in advance, planning on buying it at the door as usual. The reviews on the musical’s two week run were outstanding. The last night, I drove downtown Dayton and could not get in to see the show. It was completely sold out!

Finally, last night, I got to see Ragtime, a production at Wright State University. Of course, as we drove in, I realized my wallet was back in my bedroom – we missed the first five minutes. However, I left the production so inspired, so moved that I am seeing it again this weekend with Sheila Magnuson, the mother of my student is starring on Broadway in Sweeney Todd.

The CD of Ragtime is one of my favorites and has generally been on my CD player these past five years while I have worked on my Wright Brothers musical. Wright State – as always – did an outstanding job. It is usually difficult to believe they are merely college students and not professionals in NYC. The music is uplifting. The performances are electrifying. The entire production is breathtaking. But most of all, the show itself has guts.

For over a decade in the 1980’s through the 1990’s American theatre had drowned in revivals and British imports with vapid stories and overblown production values: Cats longing for lost days in the sun? Sexist takes of trains on roller skates? Psychotic madmen in opera houses? Recycled tap dancing spectaculars? And for what?

Finally, someone mounted a musical about America. A musical that posed hard questions about race, intolerances, and democracy. A musical that went to the core of the American question: can we live together? It is a musical that raised it all in one heart pounding epic story.

It is not an easy musical to put on. Its orchestrations are huge. Its dance numbers are mammoth. Its scenes are epic. All woven together with a story that’s as challenging as any drama that’s wrestled with questions of race.

History’s subtle voice is beleaguered by tricks of memory and imagination that urge us toward nostalgia and forgetfulness. Yet its influence stretches ahead of us into the future, awaiting our eventual arrival.

To the casual observer, Ragtime appears to be a nostalgic portrait of life at the turn of the twentieth century. Based on E. L. Doctorow’s distinguished novel, Ragtime weaves together three stories: a wealthy suburban family, a poor immigrant and his motherless daughter, and a black man named Coalhouse Walker. Their stories unfold against the backdrop of America’s dueling identities of wealth and poverty, freedom and prejudice, hope and despair, and love and hate. It looks at idealism alongside the realities and hardships of oppressed people.

In the twenty-first century we are still inclined to ignore the obvious disparities that exist in America. We believe that America is a land of opportunity but does it really offer opportunity freely to all? It appears that we, as a national family, have learned little from our history. Issues of prejudice and discrimination continue to surface, most recently from the roof tops of New Orleans as the poor begged for food, water and shelter. The poignant picture is still one of two Americas.

The greatest worth of our American Dream is not in its depiction of wealth and success, but in its promise of freedom for all Americans. Our future depends on our ability to recognize history’s voice in the everyday events of our lives and not to allow forgetfulness or nostalgia to sway us from our responsibilities as the caretakers of freedom.

Jeff Foxworthy on Ohio

You may be from Ohio (pronounced “ah-hi-uh”) if:
You think all Pro football teams are supposed to wear orange.

You know all the 4 seasons: winter, still winter, almost winter and construction.

You live less than 30 miles from some college or university.

You know what a “buckeye” really is, and have a recipe for candy ones.

“Toward the lake” means “North” and “toward the river” means “South.”

You know if other Ohioans are from southern or northern Ohio as soon as they open their mouths.

You know how to correctly spell Cincinnati.

“Vacation” means spending a day at Cedar Point in the summer and deer hunting in the fall.

You measure distance in minutes.

Your school classes were canceled because of cold.

Your school classes were canceled because of heat.

You’ve had to switch from “heat” to “A/C” in the same day.

You end your sentences with an unnecessary preposition. Example: “Where’s my coat at?”

You install security lights on your house and garage and leave both unlocked.

You think of the major four food groups as beef, pork, beer, and Jell-O salad with marshmallows.

You carry jumper cables in your car.

You know what “pop” is.

You design your kid’s Halloween costume to fit over a snowsuit.

Driving is better in the winter because the potholes are filled with snow.

You think sexy lingerie is tube socks and a flannel nightgown.

The local paper covers national and international headlines on one page but requires six pages for sports.

If someone says something you don’t understand or hear, you say “Please?”

You call it Krogers even though it is Kroger.

If you actually understand these (and we know you do!).! .. Pass them on
to your Ohio friends!

“Having sex is like playing bridge. If you don’t have a good partner, you’d better have a good hand.” Woody Allen

“Bisexuality immediately doubles your chances for a date on Saturday night.” Rodney Dangerfield

“There are a number of mechanical devices which increase sexual arousal, particularly in women. Chief among these is the Mercedes-Benz 380SL.” Lynn Lavner

“Sex at age 90 is like trying to shoot pool with a rope.” Camille Paglia

“Sex is one of the nine reasons for incarnation. The other eight are unimportant.” George Burns

“Women might be able to fake orgasms. But men can fake a whole relationship.” Sharon Stone

“Hockey is a sport for white men. Basketball is a sport for black men. Golf is a sport for white men dressed like black pimps.” Tiger Woods

“My mother never saw the irony in calling me a son-of-a-bitch.” Jack Nicholson

“Ah, yes, divorce, from the Latin word meaning to rip out a man’s genitals through his wallet.” Robin Williams

“Women need a reason to have sex. Men just need a place.” Billy Crystal

“According to a new survey, women say they feel more comfortable undressing in front of men than they do undressing in front of other women. They say that women are too judgmental, where, of course, men are just grateful.” Robert De Niro

“There’s a new medical crisis. Doctors are reporting that many men are having allergic reactions to latex condoms. They say they cause severe swelling. So what’s the problem?” Dustin Hoffman

“There’s very little advice in men’s magazines, because men think, ‘I know what I’m doing. Just show me somebody naked’.” Jerry Seinfeld

“See, the problem is that God gives men a brain and a penis, and only enough blood to run one at a time.” Robin Williams

“It’s been so long since I’ve had sex, I’ve forgotten who ties up whom.” Joan Rivers

“Sex is one of the most wholesome, beautiful and natural experiences money can buy.” Steve Martin

“You don’t appreciate a lot of stuff in school until you get older. Little things like being spanked every day by a middle-aged woman. Stuff you pay good money for in later life.” Elmo Phillips

“Bigamy is having one wife too many. Monogamy is the same.” Oscar Wilde

“It isn’t premarital sex if you have no intention of getting married.” George Burns

This afternoon, after Matt left for work, Jose and I went to see an Art/Independent Film at the Neon Movies in downtown Dayton. I think I loved Everything Is Illuminated almost as much as I loved Ladies In Lavender. I don’t think Jose appreciated it as much, but he has at least been exposed to another form of motion pictures. I think he could be won over.

Based on the critically-acclaimed novel by Jonathan Safran Foer, Everything is Illuminated tells the story of a young man’s quest to find the woman who saved his grandfather in a small Ukrainian town that was wiped off the map by the Nazi invasion.What starts out as a journey to piece together one family’s story under the most absurd circumstances turns into a surprisingly meaningful journey with a powerful series of revelations — the importance of remembrance, the perilous nature of secrets, the legacy of the Holocaust, the meaning of friendship and, most importantly, love.

Everything is Illuminated is adapted for the screen and directed by Liev Schreiber and stars Elijah Wood, Eugene Hutz, and Boris Leskin.

For more information about the movie, go to: http://wip.warnerbros.com/everythingisilluminated/