Bye, Bye, A.I.

             Well, no more American Idol. I must admit I’ll miss it. It was my guilty pleasure, though we certainly had an on-again off-again relationship, AI and I. There were whole years when I didn’t watch at all. But who can forget Sanjiah, or the first time I ever heard Jennifer Hudson’s magnificent voice? I always came back like some demented homing pigeon, and I must say, for the most part I was never disappointed. It’s thrilling to watch a new talent, someone nobody has seen before, somebody who is obviously going to be a big star.I watched the finale last week and actually teared up a couple of times, and I bet I’m not the only one. They really went all-out, pushing nostalgia while they reminded us again and again that we would meet the last American Idol by the end of the two-hour extravaganza. Former contestants returned to help end it all: Fantasia, Taylor Hicks and the afore mentioned Jennifer Hudson, to name a few. All the old judges were there, including Simon The Terrible and even Paula Abdul. Did anyone else notice the look

J-Lo shot Paul A. when they all came out together? Ellen was conspicuous by her absence, I thought. Wonder where she was? See? I really got involved.

 There have been talent searches before, but something about this one was different. Its contemporary rivals, X Factor, America’s Got Talent and The Voice were all good, but all carbon copies of AI. Years ago we had Ted Mack, where Frank Sinatra got his start, and then there was Star Search, where Sam Harris’ career was launched. None was as good as American Idol. As a rational human being, I realize the world will not come to an end because a television show is over. As an American Idol fan, I’ll probably still spend time in the shower rehearsing whatever I would have sung if I could have tried out. At least for a while. 

#46

Uh-oh. A blog block. How can this happen? There’s so much going on right now, you’d think I could find a hundred things to write about. Okay, let’s see. Donald Trump? Already written about him. What more can I say? Hillary Clinton? No surprises there. She fights on. The whole election thing? I don’t have to tell you how crazy it is. You can see that for yourselves. How about snow in April? Once, when I lived in New York City, it snowed on May 9. I remember this particularly because I was doing a concert at the Village Gate that night and we’d hired horses and carriages to take us to the after-show party. We had to cancel them. So snow in April isn’t so bad, except that I have already planted my peas. I’m hoping the extra moisture will be good for them. I’ll let you know.

I’ve been working on a show, (costumes) for the Provincetown Theater, “The Dresser”. Tony Jackman has put together a wonderful cast and I think it’s going to be great. They open Wednesday night. Oh, and B. and I went to the Central House to sample the work of their chef, who is a “Chopped” winner. (If you don’t know what “Chopped” is, watch the food channel for a fascinating time.) The food was very good, as was the service. Has anyone else noticed that the level of quality and creativity in our restaurants is enjoying an upward swing? Thanks, Foodies! We’re reaping the benefits of the craze. I think we should be doing even more to make Provincetown a food destination. We’ve got some wonderful chefs working here. How about some food events? Yum! Just a thought.

Okay. Blog block dissolved.  

Ode to Trump

Sometimes I wonder where I’m living.

Is this the U.S.A.?

Or maybe I’m dreaming.

It’s crazy.

What’s going on?

Have we all lost our minds?

Then I think,

Well, maybe it’s me.

What am I missing?

I feel like the whole world

Is turned around. What was

Unacceptable

Is now okay.

I even thought

Maybe it’s a plot to get people

To get out and vote.

Get them mad enough,

Outraged enough.

See, I’m trying to find

Some logic here,

Some way this all

Makes sense.

Nope.

1980s

Recently someone asked me what it was like here in the 1980s and I struggled to describe that time. It was the time of AIDS when all my friends were dying, or so we all thought. For me, it was like a dark tunnel and I couldn’t see the end. Behind me, the other end of the tunnel was the tiny yellow sunlight of a lost world. That sounds weird, even to me, so of course I didn’t answer the question that way. In the end I babbled something about the economy being different and rents being lower, yada, yada. I didn’t stop thinking about it, though, remembering the good and the bad times. There were good times, in spite of everything. Bringing the show ELEGIES FOR ANGELS, PUNKS AND RAGIN’ QUEENS to town was certainly one of the good times, and CLOSE TO HOME was a major party every February. Oh, and here’s something from those years:

            Vanilla was one of those Drag Queens I like to call “butterflies”. He was beautiful, and crazy and delicate, and when he died we all lost a good friend. We planned a bonfire at Herring Cove Beach for his memorial service, to take place at dusk on the day when the sun and the moon are both looking down. I caught a ride out to the beach with Betty and our friends Tony and Sandy. We parked in the lot and walked out to the beach to join the small crowd around the fire. A couple of people recited prayers and poems, and then we all sat quietly in the evening breeze, watching the fire.

Suddenly, our friend Sandy said, “I have an idea. Why don’t we go around the circle and each of us tell a story about Vanilla? I’ll start.”

She launched into her tale while I noticed most of the people there were looking at each other with puzzled expressions. Finally, the woman next to me leaned over and whispered, “Who’s Vanilla?”

It was then I noticed we were not the only bonfire on the beach that night. In fact, there were five others, strung along the beach like signal fires, each with its own contingent. We had attended the wrong one. Understandable, I guess. We had our choice of six.

That’s pretty much what it was like in the 1980s here in Provincetown.

Christian?

Lately I’ve become sensitive to the use of the word “Christian”, which, I just now discovered, my word processing app insists upon capitalizing. Okay, I get that. It’s a religion. Just as “Jewish” is a religion. Wow. The word processing app merely underlines the word Jewish if it’s not capped. What about “catholic”? Nothing. I guess that’s because “catholic” can also be an adjective. Ok, “Episcopalian”. Ah ha! Automatic caps. What about “druid”? How about “wiccan”? Nope and uh-uh. (In fact, "wiccan" is underlined capped or not, meaning, I guess, the app just thinks it's wrong.) From all this, I deduce that it’s only appropriate to apply capitals when it’s a religion and nothing else. After all, Christians, by definition, are followers of the teachings of Christ. What bothers me is when people use the word “Christian” to define a person’s character or actions, regardless of their chosen religion:

            “It’s the Christian thing to do.”

            “That’s not a very Christian attitude.”

Call me paranoid, but to me this implies that anything other than Christian is somehow less worthy.  Politicians are bantering this term about, skating rather close to the separation of church and state issue unless they are using the term in another way besides defining a religion, say, defining someone’s character or actions. It seems to be one of those things we all do, but never really think about or discuss. Words can and do hurt. As a writer, and more importantly, as a human being, I am very aware of this. Each time I hear the term “Christian” used this way, I think, what about me? I’m not a Christian. Can’t I do something nice for someone, or wish someone well without being called something I am not? I have many Jewish friends who are charitable, generous people. They are not Christian, and unfortunately when someone says “That’s a Jewish thing to do,” it’s not always meant in a nice way. Maybe we should just say “kind” or “caring”.

How about that?   

A Thank You Note

Thank you to all our friends who showed up last Saturday to hear the members of our group, Thorvald Road Writers, read from our work. We had a great turnout, and I think everybody had a good time. Thanks too,  for listening to the first chapter of  “Charlie’s House”. I really value your input and support. I'm still pretty new at this and it's not like anything I've ever done, and it's nice to know I have friends who are willing to listen.

Which brings me to another idea I've had recently. I'm wondering if anyone is interested in reading to people. I love to do it myself, and if I can get a few others, I'd like to approach the Council on Aging and/or Elder Services to see if there's any interest in reading sessions, either at the Community Center or Seashore Point. I don't know...just a thought. 

Anyway, thanks again for a lovely afternoon. We had fun.

COLD!

The forecast is for record cold. The weather lady telling me this seems pleased and excited by the prospect of besting some decade-old meteorological statistic. I am annoyed by this.  Cold can change your life, or at least your day. For one thing, it can take a good 10 minutes just to get into your outdoor clothes on days when the mercury dips below zero. In my opinion, winter clothes aren’t much fun, especially now that we can’t wear fur anymore. Say what you will about the poor minks, there was nothing warmer. When I was in college, my mother gave me her beaver coat. For 8 years it served as coat, blanket, pillow, catch-all, dog carrier, (It had marvelous pockets. I could put my dog in the inside pocket and take him anywhere.) slipcover and friend. When it finally got too ratty to wear, I cut it up into pillows and got a couple of more years out of it. I don’t wear fur anymore. I’m enlightened. And not as warm.  These days there’s down and fleece and Thinsulate, and its all about layers. I tend to overdo this concept, layering clothing on my body until I am rendered immobile, able to bend neither elbows nor knees. Last winter we had A LOT  of snow, so I invested in some boots which are the equivalent of SUVs for your feet. They each weigh about 15 lbs. and make me feel sort of like a human Jeep Cherokee. I find myself bursting through snow drifts just because I can. I have also discovered the joys of fleece, from hats to socks. What a wonderous material this is, particularly if you’re allergic to wool, as I am. They make it from old plastic water bottles and it’s deliciously warm. Three or four layers of fleece and I’m good to go…once I get going. Stay warm, dear readers.