Every September 26th I am reminded that IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE when I continue to read through birthday greetings from the previous day.
I send my deepest, warmest thank you to each of you for each and every greeting shared via social media, text messages, cards, gifts, hugs, emails, and that one special telephone call I love receiving each year from Mother at 6:03 PM for the official pronouncement of “On your mark… get set…. Go, run another year around the sun!”
Thank you….
MIADG: Make it a great day
This is my last official day of being 52. At 6:03 PM, Monday evening, Mother will call to officially sound off the starting pistol nudging me into my 54th year.
September 24th has, for many years, been a reflective day as I finish one jaunt around the sun, preparing for the next. It’s never filled with the look back, not really, the look forward. I reflect on the people who were eagerly awaiting my arrival at Mercy Hospital in Elwood, Indiana.
Mother, of course, was there, as was my nervously young father, Danny. My mother’s parents, Leroy and Donna Barmes, were always there. I’m not certain whether or not my uncles, 12 and 10 years old at the time, were there due to the rules against children. My paternal grandmother was listed in the events leading up to Mother’s departure for the hospital but I’m not certain of her participation at my arrival.
And then there was the gentleman I revere on this day each year, my deliverer, Dr. Robert P. Ulrey. What makes this day more memorable in my birth narrative is that it is also the beloved doctor’s birthday.
Mother worked for Dr. Ulrey, and he and his wife, Jean, could not have been lovelier to Mother. All throughout Thursday the 24th Dr. Ulrey kept hoping I’d be born so that we could share birthdays.
It was not to be. However, I always set aside some time on the 24th to celebrate my birthday so I can celebrate it with Dr. Ulrey.
I raise my cup of coffee to the dear man who left this world seven years ago.
September 24th also celebrates the birth of three cousins, Jamie Barmes, Paul Miller, and Jon Miller. My parental grandfather, William Jolliff, born on this day in 1919, I was never to meet until his funeral in 1982.
So here is to the launch of a new journey around the sun, and a cheer to a much cherished gentleman, Dr. Robert P. Ulrey.
Happy birthday, Dr. Ulrey!
MIAGD: Make it a great day
It’s a warm, lovely day.
I spent the morning attending to a few things around the house before breakfasting on the deck while the dogs guarded the premises against squirrels and rabbits. By 10:30 AM my head was clouding from allergies or a somewhat sleepless night. I took a 45-minute nap before resuming my place at the deck table for lunch, some Instragramming for old, neat homes that steal my interest, and some Facebook banter.
Amazon Prime is playing PBS’ Masterpiece Theater’s VICTORIA. The deck is nearly disassembled with much of the furniture and seasonal comforts placed in the shed or basement. A fan on a side table, where I keep my sweating drinks away from my work area, keeps me a bit cooler with the warm breeze sweeping beneath the pergola that keeps the
The deck is nearly disassembled with much of the furniture and seasonal comforts placed in the shed or basement. A fan on a side table, where I keep my sweating drinks away from my work area, keeps me a bit cooler with the warm breeze sweeping beneath the pergola that keeps the
A fan on a side table, where I keep my sweating drinks away from my work area, keeps me a bit cooler with the warm 3 mph breeze sweeping beneath the pergola that keeps the boiling sun barred from boiling the dogs and me.
I’ve a few hours to work before getting ready for dinner and a musical, SISTER ACT at The Dayton Playhouse with my friend, Jenny Davis.
Another perfect day.
I’ve been in creative dry dock for too long.
Teaching is always highly creative but I’ve always needed the directing or writing outlet to keep me afloat. I thought being a work-from-home dad would allow me the luxury of staying active in one of these two areas.
It doesn’t.
There’s always something on the homefront to steal away the much needed, revered creativeness.
I’m finally at that point where I am once again being selfish with my time. When my fourth son set out in 2013 I began restructuring my life to the way it was before I began adopting. However, there had been enough personal changes to slow the process of becoming reoriented with my former life.
Having my fifth son, though 18 years old, still manages to sap spare time for writing. But I’ve been finding avenues to transport myself away from family life at The Haasienda in order to soak in my creative bath.
This morning, after researching some possibilities, I ventured to Ghostlight Coffee Shop on Wayne Avenue. Almost magnificent choice.
I spent five hours researching and outlining on two major projects. The coffee was delicious and the atmosphere absolutely perfect to recharge and ignite the creative fire. I can do the same from home but some domestic need always plays tug of war with my creative bath which is not supplied by Calgon.
The South Park neighborhood is a mixture of rehabilitation of beautiful old homes and some areas not so pleasant. But I did enjoy my strolls.
And there was even an Evangelical United Brethren Church!
Now, I’m on the bus heading to Town & Country shopping center in Kettering to meet my son for Marian’s Pizza.
What a fantastic day!
MIAGD: Make it a great day
This morning I ventured downtown for some Chinese buffet at Liu Garden with my friend, Bill Impson.
I decided to take in the beautiful day, the familiar warm, breezy late September weather, the Great Miami River, and all the lovely surroundings atop the levee at RiverScape.
The levee, built over one hundred years ago to protect the city from flooding, has become a celebrated gathering spot for festivals, concerts, and folks like me who simply want to step away from the daily sounds to invigorating, refreshing sounds only the water offers.
My teaching day has been altered due to homecoming festivities at one of the schools. I will start a little later in the afternoon and actually have a short day.
These last few days of the week are free, and I will begin birthday celebrations Saturday, awaiting the birthday clock to go off at 6:03 PM (the exact time of birth) on Monday, September 25, when Mother calls to officially welcome my 53rd trip around the sun, thus commencing my 54th year.
For the most part, it has been a good year. Despite natural life experiences, it has been a wonderful life.
Make it a great day!
There’s no business like show businessLike no business I know
Everything about it is appealing,Everything that traffic will allow
Nowhere could you get that happy feelingWhen you are stealing that extra bow.There’s no people like show people,They smile when they are low
Even with a turkey that you know will fold,You may be stranded out in the cold
Still you wouldn’t change it for a sack of gold,Let’s go on with the show.The butcher, the baker, the grocer, the clerk
Are secretly unhappy men because
The butcher, the baker, the grocer, the clerk
Get paid for what they do but no applause.
They’d gladly bid their dreary jobs goodbyeFor anything theatrical and why?There’s no business like show businessAnd I tell you it’s soTraveling through the country is so thrilling,Standing out in front on opening nightsSmiling as you watch the theater filling,And there’s your billing out there in lightsThere’s no people like show people,They smile when they are lowAngels come from everywhere with lots of jack,And when you lose it, there’s no attackWhere could you get money that you don’t give back?Let’s go on with the show.You get word before the show has startedThat your favorite uncle died at dawnTop of that, your pa and ma have parted,You’re broken-hearted, but you go onYesterday they told you you would not go far,That night you open and there you are;Next day on your dressing room they’ve hung a star,Let’s go on with the show!!
Today I received two invitations to see local (within a 50-mile radius of Dayton) productions. They each begin this Friday.
Really? This Friday and it’s the first I have heard of either? Grant it, I don’t stalk their Facebook pages or websites for information but I do have notifications set to know what’s on their schedules. I even did some research and I could not locate any previous marketing notices for either production.
Why?
Are the productions so poor they do not wish for anyone but family and close friends to attend? These companies generally produce quality work.
Is someone just getting around to marketing? Ahh… yes. So it seems.
It has to be more than hanging posters in your local dry cleaners or supermarket; those items sometimes get lost in the clutter of those walls or the clutter in our oft hectic lives.
Word of mouth?
Tell me about the production and I probably won’t remember.
Social media has taken on a new stage for production marketing. However, if organizations are going to utilize social media they must be clever, consistent and communicative. A group cannot and MUST not expect everyone associated with them or any of their members to quickly zero in on the information.
I hate playing Sherlock Holmes when I do go to sites. Why did I spend 11 minutes of my time searching for the time of the show the night I am attending? The other day I was a bit put off by The Miami Valley’s leading performance venue, The Schuster Center and Victoria Theatre taking me on an excursion to simply buy tickets for a currently running production. I was so close to saying, “screw it, I will just not go,” but I attended a preview of this new production and really want to see it.
I am fairly adept at working my way around these things, but I shouldn’t have to work so hard to locate information about auditions or productions. And there are folks out there less comfortable with technology.
If folks cannot locate information:
I see poor marketing information and strategy all the time from many performing arts organizations, mostly non-professional, school and churches:
Another common issue is with high school productions: a cast member will post a Facebook event for their school’s show; then another cast member will post another event for the same production and maybe the information from both events do not match. Yes, my brain acknowledges “these are teenagers.” But, NO! NO! NO!
Make a marketing strategy and make certain the PR/Marketing directing/team captain is on top of social media one person is handling social media from the group’s social media headquarters with all information. Be creative. Grab your readers. Let Johnny post his Instagram photo of himself in costume with, “Hey goobers. I am in this show so come see it.” Johnny will get some goobers in to see the show. But be sure Johnny is not the head of the marketing strategy!
When I see packets/marketing leaving out essential details, I promptly dismiss the upcoming audition or production. If the company manager, producer, whoever have not taken the time to market and plan appropriately I am not comfortable investing my money into a ticket.
And it is not just about leaving out pertinent details.
My son was interested in auditioning for a local production of one of my favorite musicals. I needed to find the performance dates since he is committed to another production. I searched the site. I researched the site. The third time of reading through the information I found the following: Please bring a list of ALL conflicts from September 20 through November 12. The show runs November 3-12. Please contact…
The performance dates were freaking wedged into the least conspicuous spot, an area my scrolling eyes missed several times. Why not this:
MUSICAL
Auditions are: Date(s), Time, Location
Call Back Auditions: Date(s), Time, Location
Performances: Date(s), Time, Location with other information where to obtain tickets
Prospective customers should never resort to speaking like Basil Rathbone in a 1930’s Sherlock Holmes movie as they search for vital information, NOT clues.
I always chuckle at the lyrics to Irving Berlin’s well-known anthem; it’s always about the ooy-gooy side of stage life. There’s a business to preparing a character or rehearsing (if it is done correctly and with the organization), but the show business is something entirely different. It’s the foundation of the production, the company.
Composer Irving Berlin and Director Joshua Logan
I worked with a local production company that had done well for many years as a mom and pop company until it had to change location. It soon became evident that it could no longer continue to operate as the neighborhood lemonade stand. I, along with several others, was brought on board to help aim the company in a new direction.
We tried.
In the end, those who had been with the company for many years could not let go of “this is how we always did it and it worked then.” But, it was not working in the now, the new location. Those of us who’d been brought aboard as the transition team watched it fold within a year or two with the charter members clinging to the cliff as the company toppled down the hill. But for the several years charter members were practicing GREAT show business we enjoyed some magnificent productions and tender memories.
Business, first. Then, production.
Think of the pyramid… build the foundation with excellent business practices, then be certain your production team is organized and committed to the plan of thinking like a business while still being creative; the little tiny tip is the actual show – which is a different pyramid later.
There seem to be a lot of Phoenix rising from the ashes of dismantled production companies and sadly, without a thorough appraisal of what preceded the new attempt. Without firm, courageous leadership stressing and following through with valued business practices there’s probably going to be more smoldering.
There’s no business like show business and it will make for even better productions!
It’s 10:25 PM, Sunday night, and my day that began at 1:00 PM is finally complete.
I love these long days exhausting though they can be at times. Once I get started the momentum only increases. By 9:00 PM I should feel tired but I am only more eager to forge on. Having fantastic students, Sunday through Thursday, makes a world of difference, too.
While the dogs love having guests who “only come to see them,” it is obvious they are thrilled their Dad-time has arrived as they are all camped out around my chair in my study as I listen to Spectrum’s (cable television/internet provider) lousy reception of Think TV’s AMERICAN EXPERIENCE: Walt Disney.
Monday, like my Wednesday, begins at 8:30 AM with homeschooled and students in college prep courses through Noon, and then again from 2:00-9:40 PM. My Tuesdays and Thursdays begin by 1:00 PM, but I am done by 8:00/7:30 PM those evenings. I spent two hours of my Sunday morning working on plans for the week, so I am officially ahead of schedule as I prepare students for musicals, SISTER ACT (just starting), BONNIE & CLYDE (Clyde, Ted, Young Clyde, Clyde’s dad, Clyde understudy), and auditions for school musicals and Muse Machine’s January production, HELLO, DOLLY!.
I spent two hours of my Sunday morning working on plans for the week, so I am officially ahead of schedule as I prepare students for musicals, SISTER ACT (just starting), BONNIE & CLYDE (Clyde, Ted, Young Clyde, Clyde’s dad, Clyde understudy), and auditions for school musicals and Muse Machine’s January production, HELLO, DOLLY!.
Griffith, who is taking college prep classes three mornings a week, is also working 32 hours each week at Dorothy Lane Market and is excited to begin working crew for a high school production to which he was invited to participate.
It’s Sunday.
For most families, Sunday is the end of the weekend. For The Haasienda it is the start of the week… kind of… now that I stop to think of it, our week and weekend kind of merge all into one gigantic package of time.
We do have a blast!
I spontaneously decided to adjust my working space around 9:30 AM.
Within 12 minutes I was in the RTA 17 heading north to downtown Dayton followed by a nice leisure stroll to Dayton’s 2nd Street Market.
I found a table, plugged in my phone, pulled out my tablet and took research notes on a lined note pad, how I use to do it back in the olden days.
A remarkable band/duo provided about three hours of music. Check out Old Skool Duo! They are remarkable, and one of the best live bands I’ve listened to in ages.
I worked from 10:15 AM until 1:45 PM, allowing myself a total of 30 minutes of browsing and eating time. Then it was off to the new Main Library where I research another 90 minutes.
My evening will hopefully be spent enjoying my pets while researching and writing from the deck. Griffith works this evening and I am sure he will invite any additional sleep he can grab.
MIAGD: Make it a great day
…TELL… …THE… …STORY…
That’s the most important thing we do as musicians, actors, dancers, sculptors, painters, poets, authors and all the components of the performing and fine arts.
Tell the damn story.
We have sheets of music, blank white canvases, monitors or typewriters, a note pad, a bare stage, a rehearsal hall with mirrors, a potter’s wheel, a block of marble or metal – whatever our working space, it is up to us to tell the story. It is one of the most exciting worlds in which to work – creating.
The seeming popular attitude about “telling the story” seems to be “who gives a shit?” Few performers seem to have a grasp of just how vital this is to what those of us in the fine and performing arts do.
I’ve attended some fantastic attempts at quality musical theatre productions in the area who fall short or even fail due to the performers electing to not “telling the story” by strengthening their diction. Actually, I place the blame for this blasphemy at the feet of music directors and directors. Shame on you for cheating your audiences of the money they paid for their tickets when you are not delivering the full story by demanding your performers to use the very best diction that clearly tells the story. Yes, you might have to demonstrate, teach, coach, yell, force-feed, etc. – whatever it takes – to get the job done and to make sure the story is told.
It’s sad when I learn more about the show’s story from the sign-language storytellers than I do from the performers on stage… and I do not know sign-language.
From now on, I want to only pay 1/2 of the ticket price at the beginning of a show and pay any remaining amount after the show depending on the preparedness of the story telling.
How can directors, music directors, producers allow crappy diction to continue?
Immaturity as directors?
The directors don’t care?
“Oh, the audience knows the songs so does it really matter?” (This was an actual response to one of my recent queries!)
Lack of organization or preparation?
I don’t know since I am not involved in these rehearsals. However, my students who are involved in some of these productions often indicate very little is done with diction. I figured as much and find it sad, but more so, rude and unprofessional. Music directors or directors have (bravely) said to me, “we worked on diction… I kept telling them to enunciate.” Weak. Unacceptable. Get the damn job done!
One of my favorite Dictioneers is Scott Stoney, a founder and resident actor of Dayton’s very own, The Human Race Theatre Company. I’ve never had any issues with the story being told at any THRTC’s shows, and Scott always leads the diction parade!
When I heard Scott sing the role of The Father in CHILDREN OF EDEN I fell in love with this actor’s diction. I took students back to three more productions so they could hear Scott’s natural and delightful way of “telling the story.” It was the first time I had ever seen CHILDREN OF EDEN and I was not short-changed with the entire company’s storytelling, Scott’s, in particular.
I must add that The Dayton Playhouse’s recent RAGTIME delivered not only a quality production in all areas, but a beautifully told story with exceptionally good diction.
One of my beloved college professors, Dr. Douglas Amman, told The Ball State Chamber Choir: “It’s not the notes – it is what you do with the notes.”
Yes! Yes! Yes!
And it’s not the words or the lyrics: It is what you DO with those words and lyrics that help you “tell the story” however it is meant to be told.
Every new student’s first lesson begins with: “What is our most important job as a singer, actor, author, painter, sculptor, poet, dancer, etc.?”
I generally hear, “to entertain.” (from show choir students) Few students get it correct. Some finally get there after coaching with clues.
I’ve yet to have any students come in with a working knowledge of diction. Therefore, I am concluding that school choir directors (I know the one or two who are doing their job) or musical music directors/directors simply fall short in this vital arena.
The blasted body mic may also be another factor due to performers, and not just inexperienced performers, making the choice to not concern themselves with “telling the story” because the mic will allow them to be heard. Yes, the mic will reinforce the actor’s audio but it will not provide the diction necessary to “tell the story.”
Why put the work, hours, effort, sweat, tears, etc. into a production or concert if you are not going to “tell the story” so your audience can understand the story?
Thank you to those wonderful storytellers who grasp this oft ignored component in what we do. And thank you to my students, past, and present (and future), who make me proud for all the attention to the detail in “telling the story.”
MIAGD: Make it a great day
He was a small kitten… just barely eight weeks old… he had more photographs on social media than probably any other kitten… yet he seemed to pull folks together from all corners of the country, becoming a mini-celebrity and much-beloved member of The Haasienda with the family and the students and their families.
Little Flanagan was with us 34 days but what an infectious wallop of playfulness, fun, personality, and love he possessed while offering us tons of “aws” and much laughter.
My favorite photo of Flanagan and Neko
Thank you – ALL – for the outpouring of love, prayers, and support throughout this little fellow’s last few days of struggle and finally, his passing.
You are appreciated.
You are loved.
Make it a great day.
It’s nearing 7:00 PM and despite the sadness of last night, I can say this has been a beautiful day.
I putzed around my study most of the morning, accomplishing precious little, but I can say I managed to get those little odds and ends completed until it was time to get ready for the afternoon activities.
Griffith had orientation for his new job at Dorothy Lane Market, so my student, Ian, joined me for lunch at Spaghetti Warehouse, his first visit. Fortunately for me, this young man appreciates architecture and antiques and managed not to nod off as I pointed out all the different architectural features of Dayton buildings, especially The Arcade.
Dare 2 Defy’s production, SEUSSICAL JR was nice. My student, Sam McLain, plowed through the show as though he had been born to play Cat In The Hat. Super job!
Following the show, we hit the trail toward RiverScape and Deeds Point.
Back at home Griffith, still maintaining a strong aversion to pasta and marinara sauce, happily presented me with a “welcome basket” from Dorothy Lane Market that contained pasta, DLM marinara sauce, and a nice bottle of Extra Virgin Olive Oil. I love how dinner plans magically work out.
The past two hours I’ve spent time with the dogs since my time this past week was focused on Flanagan’s care. We all seem to be back on the grid.
A good day.
Perspective and attitude.
Life moves on…
MIAGD: Make it a great day
“Animals share with us the privilege of having a soul.” – Pythagoras
Just after midnight, we finished burying Flanagan in the back yard beneath the elevated bird bath that is used to hold baskets of draping foliage and flowers.
I returned to the deck and something was missing in my view: three faces staring back at me from the storm door’s window. Typically, I would be suspicious knowing they were up to something, and with Harrigan as a semi-co-leader of the canine trio that is always entirely possible.
The Girls, Bailey and Harrigan, were on the bed in the guest bedroom. Harrigan’s eyes were not expressive and I detected some fear. Bailey, for the first time in nearly four years, was not wiggling; her tail between her legs, her head bowed, and quite calm upon my touch.
And Chief… this lovable hunk of 90-100 lbs was in my study curled up near my desk.
Chief was still a puppy when Logan, my cat of 17 years, passed away. Still, he reacted with sorrow and sympathy. While Logan’s towel wrapped body lay on the deck as I prepared her grave, Chief sat at a stiff attention, guarding the pal that never cared for the pups. And it was this same loving, attentive companion who stayed by Flyer’s side throughout her final illnesses. Five months after Flyer’s death, Chief laid next to his sister, Navi, as the veterinarian administered the injection to allow her to sleep. As we exited the clinic in an unseasonably warm December thunderstorm, Chief let out a heart-wrenching cry… Joshua, Chief and I sat on the curb to the parking lot in the pouring rain, hugging Chief and joining him in an ensemble of sorrow.
Flanagan was his fourth pal-loss, a member of his pack whom he loved and served as a fur-lined mattress.
The dogs were already upstairs when I prepared for bed. Chief went directly to his bed. Bailey in a corner curled up and revealing her black, heart-shaped marking. Harrigan was under the covers of the bed.
I walked over to Chief for our nightly hug-fest and he was shaking, his eyes filled with tears. I lay down, snuggling with him, reassuring him until his shaking stopped and he was ready to commence with his nightly cleaning ritual.
A short while later I discovered Bailey had moved over to snuggle with Chief. It broke my heart. The happiest of all The Haasienda’s creatures looked so sad. Chief provided her the comfort she sought.
This morning The Girls charged downstairs to the empty crate. They searched in all the rooms. Outside, the trio returned to the familiar as they feverishly scoured the yard for intruding squirrels and bunnies.
But what brought the first sound of laughter and familiarity was Chief as he hiked his leg and anointed the elevated bird bath.
Rest in peace, dear little Flanagan… know you are loved…
I have been blessed with some of the most loving pets my entire life. They’re my kids. I feel honored to carry on the paramount, loving task assigned to Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, looking after and caring for all God’s creatures.
I wrote a Facebook post on Flanagan’s page regarding his current status at 9:30 PM.
I went to hold him before we headed up to bed and within 15 minutes our little fellow passed away.
Flanagan
We had him only one month and a few days, but oh, all the big joy the little fellow shared.
The dogs came to say their “goodbyes,” and the animal world still astounds me.
Harrigan sniffed, nudged and then went to the corner and curled up.
Bailey sniffed, nudged, went into her sideways “I wanna play with you” jump, returned to Flan’s side, and began howling.
Chief sniffed, took his paw and tried to gently move Flanagan’s still paw… then came the deep throated cry.
Neko sniffed all around Flanagan, nudged him a few times, and like Chief, went paw to paw… then walked away and laid in a corner by Harrigan.
While Griffith and I began the preparations for Flanagan’s burial, Bailey went over to lay at his feet.
I returned about ten minutes later to find all three dogs still at their posts with Neko on the piano bench looking on.
Thank you, to the loving friends and family, and even a number of strangers who were pulling for our little pal. Your prayers, kind words, hugs, and support are greatly appreciated.
I’ve always admired nurses and those who take care of loved ones on the home front. A hometown family friend, Gloria, has been nursing her husband and this week, as I’ve adjusted to including nursing Flanagan throughout my day, I’ve kept Gloria’s spirit as a model.
I am a mental and motivational nurturer, not a “take care of the physical” nurturer. I admire those who can be a home-nurse but I know I was never lulled to that arena for a reason.
Flanagan’s accident, a week ago today, uprooted my daily schedule, robbed me of writing time, kept me preoccupied, and interfered with my favorite holiday, Kettering’s Holiday At Home Festival over Labor Day weekend. I did go to the parade, but it held little favor for me as my mind was elsewhere.
This morning I decided that I needed to readjust my thinking, my attitude, and simply include Flanagan’s care into my daily schedule instead of considering it an interruption to my day. I scheduled in time for myself. I took a brisk, brief walk after teaching and instead of focusing on Flanagan, I breathed in the sunset, watched ten minutes of a Fairmont girls’ field hockey game (I’d never seen one), and regained my emotional footing.
Already, I feel stronger and less drained. It’s all about the attitude.
Kathy Wolff
I was so lucky to grow up in the neighborhood I did, and with some of the greatest folks for neighbors. On the opposite corner of our block lived my mother’s parents, and even their neighbors were still dear family friends especially since Mother had grown up with nearly all of them.
Directly across the alley from where I grew up were the Wolff family, Dutch and Kate. Dutch owned Wolff’s Tavern which was more of a restaurant with a 1880s style bar, back alcohol sideboard with a huge mirror, and the tin-tiled ceilings at least 20+ feet high. On the other corner down the street from us lived Nick and Kathy Wolff, Dutch and Kate’s son and daughter-in-law.
Mother grew up with Nick and his sister, Kay, and knew Kathy in high school. The Wolffs, like our other immediate neighbors, were more like extensions to our family and not just folks living next door.
I have little recollection of Dutch as he died when I was about three or four years old. Dutch was ill all the years I knew him and I remember Mother and Kathy, a nurse, administering shots of morphine to him as he neared death.
Before long, Nick and Kathy traded homes with Kate; their home down the street from us was smaller and easier for Kate to get around. The Wolff home behind us was larger and seemed ready for Nick and Kathy’s soon-to-be family.
I don’t recall ever seeing Nick without his pipe in his mouth as though an attempt to hold back the very peppered phrasing he was apt to use. I don’t recall Nick being a foundation for my own cussing, prompted by my uncles who were ten and twelve years older than me, but I’ve always been delighted by this witty role model.
Kathy was a gem: gentle but strong, terribly funny but extremely compassionate, tender grit, and always the soul of kindness. Nothing was more engaging than seeing Kathy throw back her head and let loose the loudest, most penetrating laugh that seemed impossible from such a tiny lady.
Kathy had been under the baton twirling tutelage of the legendary Tudy Smith and was often in her driveway twirling her batons. For this future band geek and drum-major, it was a combination of heaven, the circus, and the Indiana State Fair Band Day. I loved it. Kathy even taught me basic signal-baton directions that would later serve me well in a dual capacity at Smith-Wallbridge Drum-Major Camp as a field commander in both corps and signal-baton styles.
Wednesday afternoon, Kathy, 71, passed away from a sudden illness.
The world seems a little smaller this morning but the ring of Kathy’s laughter has not ceased, nor has the example of her genuine caring heart been stopped. Examples. She always demonstrated ex
Examples. She always demonstrated examples of kindness, laughter, tenderness, laughter, sturdiness, laughter, love, laughter, and a true servant’s heart that never failed to find the humor in some of this life’s screwiest moments.
Ahhh… what a wonderful little lady who’s been a family friend for over 50 years. Tears, yes. Smiles and laughter, always. Thank you for sharing your laughter, humor, kindness, and love with us, Dear Lady.
Kathy, right, with her sister, Pat, and her nephew, Marty.
This is correct.
However, we should maintain positive thoughts from the moment we wake until the moment we close our eyes.
Think positive thoughts.
Breathe positive thoughts.
Communicate positive thoughts.
Live positive thoughts.
Labor Day in Kettering, Ohio means two things: Kettering’s Holiday At Home Festival and Alter High School’s Alterfest.
I love this holiday, perhaps, more than any other except for July 4th. Labor Day in Kettering brings together members of the community as well as many guests returning home for the festivities, or many non-Kettering residents traveling into the city to see what this terrific little community is all about.
We cannot agree how many years we’ve celebrated the parade together, but the Bane and Haas families have been doing it for 8-10 years. Today, it was just Angela and myself, and after the Fairmont cheerleaders completed their parade route, 10th grader Ellie joined us.
My morning had been stuffed with feeding canines, feeding Flanagan and cleaning him up, prepping for my teaching day, and getting ready by 9:15 AM when Angela would arrive for our annual trek across the high school’s backfield to Far Hills Avenue’s parade route.
Post-parade time began filling up rapidly as I scarfed down some lunch, fed Flanagan again, and prepped for teaching.
8.5 hours of fantastic musical accomplishments from current/old students, as well as two new students. The remainder of this week I will joyfully welcome eight new students that have been crammed into the schedule. Tonight, one new student is from a family I met upon my arrival in Dayton 27 years ago. I photographed their eldest daughter’s first baby photos, did some band/music work with the dad, and gave voice lessons to the mother. Their youngest daughter, now a junior in high school, is a lovely young lady and I enjoyed our first official time together.
Flanagan has been fed and showing signs of improvement. I have fed my self and am showing signs of improving fatigue. The parade, time with friends, and teaching some great lessons seemed to lift that hollow emotional vacuum that had begun to swallow me.
And, it was nice to receive an impromptu hug from my non-demonstrative youngest son and to discover a phone message from my eldest that simply said, “I just wanted to let you know I love you. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
And, I did.
Since Flanagan’s accident Thursday morning, Neko has been the ever loving and attentive big brother.
Every morning when we come downstairs to great Flan, Neko hops into KICU (kitty ICU) to love on Flanagan and to groom him.
Oh, yes… families are created.
MIAGD: Make it a great day
Kettering’s Holiday At Home Festival began yesterday with the fair setting in Lincoln Park and kicks off today with the mini-marathon and then the parade at 10:00 AM.
The city’s workers were already at work by 4:00 AM setting up barriers around the parade route. The school parking lot next to the house is for buses and other parade vehicles.
Neko, experiencing his first Labor Day, is holding his position at the kitchen window surveying the comings and goings of this busy morning.
Since 2007, I’ve watched this parade with the Bane family, Tony, Angela, Jacob, Ellie, and Noah. Today, only Angela and I will watch the parade together. Ellie will be in the parade, Jacob is working, and Tony and Noah have tickets to a Reds baseball game.
Today seems like a celebration of summer’s end, as well as celebrating the continuity of life… kids growing up and all the many other wonderful changes we take for granted.
Happy Labor Day and make it a great day.
MIAGD: Make it a great day
“Until one has loved an animal, a part of one’s soul remains unawakened.”
― Anatole France
MIAGD: Make it a great day
September Song (sung by Willie Nelson) is generally the first thing to cross my mind every year on September 1. In fact, it sticks to me most of August 31.
I was introduced to this song in 1984 or 1985 by Joshua Logan who directed the 1938 musical, KNICKERBOCKER HOLIDAY, for which the song was composed by Kurt Weill.
I accompanied Mr. Logan’s energetic, bellowing voice, even following his gestures of when to slow or increase the tempo. I could tell he loved this song.
And he did.
And, I love the song, too.
It appears many others loved the song, too, as it’s been recorded by Willie Nelson, Sarah Vaughn, Pat Boone, Frank Sinatra, Bing Crosby (twice), Ella Fitzgerald, Lena Horne, Johnny Hartman, Howard McGhee, Nat King Cole, Jimmy Durante, Maurice Chevalier, Lou Reed, Lindsey Buckingham, Matt Monro, Mel Tormé, Will Holt, Theodore Bikel, Liberace, Francis Langford, Elaine Paige, Rosemary Clooney, Andy Williams, The Four Freshmen, The Platters, Mario Lanza, James Brown, Peter Paul & Mary, Betty Buckley, Dean Martin, and scores of contemporary artists. Opera singers Ezio Pinza, Billy Eckstine, Leontyne Price and Lottie Lehman also made recordings. Jazz ensembles and orchestras have also produced many recordings.
As we prepare for this seasonal change, let’s always do our best to make it a great day!
Oh, it’s a long long while
From May to December
But the days grow short
When you reach SeptemberWhen the autumn weather
Turns leaves to flame
One hasn’t got time
For the waiting gameOh, the days dwindle down
To a precious few
September, NovemberAnd these few precious days
I’ll spend with you
These precious days
I’ll spend with youOh, the days dwindle downTo a precious fewSeptember, NovemberAnd these few precious daysI’ll spend with youThese precious daysI’ll spend with youThese precious daysI’ll spend with you
Flanagan, not yet one-month-old, came to live with us July 27, 2017. Within hours he had won the affection of the entire Haasienda, and all those who spend time here as students and family friends.
Yesterday, August 31, there was a freak accident and it appears Flanagan has a concussion. The family friend/veterinarian has given nursing instructions and we are now past the twenty-four-hour mark.
Yesterday was touch and go a few times, and we prepared ourselves for his passing. I seriously doubted he would make it through the night.
This morning at 11:00 AM, Flanagan is still with us and possibly showing signs of improvement. But, it’s still 50/50 at this time.
Flanagan, while still sleeping all the time this morning, has shown signs of finally opening his eyes, responding to Griffith, Neko, the dogs, and me. He generally lifts his head and looks in the direction of Harrigan’s bark or the jingling of dog tags.
Neko has been absolutely adorable through this traumatic experience: often crawling into the laundry basket to snuggle with Flanagan, groom him, and to just check on him. Neko lays on the piano bench where he can look down on Flanagan, or lays next to the basket sometimes getting a meow from Flanagan.
Neko is the feline version of Chief.
Chief and the girls are always near by. Chief opted to sleep downstairs, last night, not leaving Flanagan’s side, just as he did when Flyer was ill/passing away four years ago.
Flanagan frequently moves to different positions. He doesn’t seem to be in any pain and seems to be in a peaceful state of rest, which is exactly what he needs. This morning Flanagan has had two large syringes of Pedialyte; he doesn’t fight the syringe and eagerly drinks down the liquids.
Many thanks for all the many prayers and notes of encouragement.
My student, Sam McLain, wears the Big Cat’s Hat as Cat In The Hat for SEUSSICAL JR.
Jim Hannah introduces us to Wright State lecturer Dennis Loranger turns program prose for Dayton Philharmonic into art form
I like motivational posters. I always have.
My college dorm room walls, and later, the house on Washington Street, were filled with framed posters reminding me to keep going, to share my light, and to continue to love.
My music classrooms were filled with them. Sometimes, a student might privately share a poster spoke to them at a critical time. I typically purchased an additional copy to give the student.
When we moved to Shroyer Road 14 years ago, I was up to two adopted sons, and two foster sons. I began posting a positive/motivational quote on the bathroom mirror every morning. Sometimes I could tell they had actually been read because a wet-ink smeared thumbprint was visible. Most of the time, the splattered toothpaste covered most of the tiny print at the bottom of the mirror.
I also taped a different motivating phrases to the inside of cabinets, the inside of the refrigerator and freezer, the inside of the dryer, to the bottom of their chest drawers since I knew they would eventually go without washing laundry until it was absolutely necessary, and other places. Several still exist inside cabinet doors.
Two familiar phrases still resonate today, “make it a great day,” and “know you are loved.”
Anyone can “have” a great day. The determining factor is whether or not you make it so. That’s the attitude versus the passiveness.
As a kid, Mother always insisted we do our best. Nothing else was expected: straight As, home runs (thank God), touchdowns, 2nd place in a music contests, etc.. They were great if they happened, but when they didn’t Mother always asked, “but did you do your best?”
That’s what mattered.
In my bedroom at 825 Main Street in Elwood, Indiana hung a plaque Mother gave me, which read, “it doesn’t matter how many storms you weathered; but did you bring in the ship?” Did you do your best?
In my children’s Living Bible, Mother wrote the quote, “in order to achieve the highest good of true man and womanhood, simply do your honest best and God, with joy, will do the rest.” If you do your best there just might be something added you did not expect. Ah, yes. Karma.
I guess Mother started this business of motivational quotes appearing, and I’ve carried on the tradition.
Whatever you do, “make it a great day.”
The Haasienda on Shroyer... 