A Work In Progress




I attended a one-woman show earlier this week, "Let Me Down Easy." I don't want to floor you with umpteen adjectives, so I'll be selective. Impressive. Thought-provoking. Moving.


Many compotents came together for this show to effect me. The writer and performer is Anna Deavere Smith. The show is "portraits based on verbatim excerpts from interviews conducted by her." Basically, she took on the personas of the people she had interviewed over the last dozen years. Some were famous (Governor Ann Richards), some were not (Smith's aunt). Some were dead (Joel Siegel), some have sped away from death (Lance Armstrong).


In the span of 90 minutes, Smith became 20 different and convincing characters. For 4 1/2 minutes, Smith, through her twang, tobacco, and right-wing rants, convinced me she was a rodeo bull rider from Idaho, right there on stage, in NYC. Four and 1/2 minutes later, Smith whisked me away to South Africa to where I felt I became the director of an orphanage in Johannesburg. I held the hand of a dying child, finally going to be with her mother in a less painful life.

But the reason for this blog isn't to plug the show. What impressed me, along with Smith's abilities, was the amount of time, effort, and patience that was put into this body of work. She had to extract a common theme from dozens of interviews, she had to learn accents, acquire mannerisms. Costumes were selected, staging decided upon, lines to memorize. During the eight years that she worked on this piece, I'm sure she had to make a living, as well.

It was a Work In Progress for eight years--at least. It made me reflect on how I'm a Work In Progress. We're all Works In Progress. Eight years ago, Smith's theme for her show was human mortality. Fancy words for death. After eight years, this theme morphed into grace and kindness. Don't we all start out one way and morph into something else?


You are a WIP. I'm a WIP. I've taken breaks from that work, from time to time. I supose most of us have. A slight pause is fine, don't you think? Just don't let that pause become too lengthy. Rest is good. Stagnation, not so good.

I want to be a mound of clay on a potter's wheel. Changing shape, morphing as I desire or outside forces necessitate. Pliable, but not too pliable. Don't put me on a shelf and dust me once in a while.

WIP~~==+++>>><<<<***&&&@@@!!!!~~~```::::::;;;;;;;^^^RIP


I want my life to have lots of STUFF in between WIP and RIP. Don't you?

I Wish I Was a Punk Rocker

DEAR SANDI THOM,


I love you!!! We've never officially met. . . or unofficially. You see, I fell in love with you via You Tube. To be more accurate, you seduced me by your voice and lyrics in your video, "I wish I was a punk rocker (with flowers in my hair)."



I hope you don't mind that I deconstructed some of your lyrics for my readers.

"Oh, I wish I was a punk rocker with flowers in my hair. In '77 and '69 revolution was in the air."


Sandi, I was born in the early '60's. Clearly, too young to embrace the Hippie Movement. Growing up in Western Kansas meant the Punk Rock Movement was stopped at the border. There is a part of me (perhaps a whole generation) that is still asking, "Where do I fit in? What was the Movement that I was born into? The Marcia, Marcia, Marcia Movement??" Give me a bucket and a gun if this is true!! Little overdramatic there, but it's my Blog, so I can write what I want.
There's so much more meat to the '69 movement. I want to be a Hippie with flowers in my hair doing the "Hair" thing!






"I was born too late, into a world that doesn't care."




San, the world does care. You just missed the 30 second ticker running across the bottom of MSNBC that stated," We Care."

"When music really mattered and when radio was king."

S, we have global radio now. Omniscient music of your choose all day and all night. I miss the local commentary, like the hog report or who took a header off the Brooklyn Bridge.

"When accountants didn't have control."

Sand, those boys are get'in their just rewards, don't you think? At least a few are. What do you think, Jeff and Bernie (Skilling and Madoff)?

"And the media couldn't buy your soul."

My son started salivating when he heard "Sweet Home Alabama," by Lynyrd Skynyrd, while we were in the car. "Stop at Kentucky Fried Chicken! That's the KFC song," he yelled from the back seat. I want to curse someone, but I don't know who: the media, the record companies, the artists, or some other unknown entity. The upside is I get to hear my favorite songs from time to time while the television is blasting. Sandi, I see you're offering this song as a ringtone.

"And computers were still scary and we didn't know everything."

Times, they are a chang'in. But rest assured, we'll never know everything . . . or anything!

"When pop stars still remained a myth, and ignorance could still be bliss, and when God saved the Queen she turned a whiter shade of pale."

Only a Brit would sing about the Queen!

"My mom and dad were in their teens, and anarchy was still a dream."

Is this the State we're in? I think it's too confusing to say just yet.

"And the only way to stay in touch was a letter in the mail."

Mom, you haven't written in a few months. I know. I haven't either.

"When record shops were still on top. And vinyl was all that they stocked."

Sandi, vinyl is making a comeback, according to my brother-in-law. He may not always be right, though.

"And the super info highway was still drifting out in space."

Without this super highway, think how difficult it would be for someone you never wanted to hear from again to reach out to you. Thank you Facebook. On a serious note, I heard your song because of this obnoxious, but invaluable, super highway. Thanks, Al Gore.

Sandi, you're too young and too talented to be cynical, just yet!

Nevertheless, your lyrics and voice hit a spot in my heart and feet that make me want to toss flowers in my hair, dance all around my apartment, and embrace this crazy world.

Thank you, Sandi Thom.

CHANGE

CHANGE.



I'm not referring to the 1930's Depression era, "Hey buddy, 'ya gotta dime?" Nor am I talking about "the change of life" for women in their 40's and 50's. I am referring to change in lifestyle, change in daily routines. I'm talking about mixing it up at the ripe age of 40-something.



I don't always embrace change. But I'm opening myself up to it more. Some of the changes are voluntary, others are necessary. I have a whole bevy of examples, so settle back and be impressed.



Lately, instead of my daily dose of black coffee, I've been having tea. Earl Grey with skim milk, to be specific. Yes, I'm still bowing to the Almighty Caffeine Goddess, but clearly in a different flavor.



Instead of jogging around the Central Park Reservoir, I'm now jogging in Riverside Park. Yeah! Total change of venue here. Yes, they are two bodies of water, but comparing the Reservoir with the Mighty Hudson River is apples and oranges, Baby. Apples and Oranges.



Even my choice of coffee shops have altered. For years, Lenny's Deli was my Cheers in the morning. Now, since I drop my child off at a different school, I've had to search out a new locale for my coffee/tea fix. Luckily it wasn't an insurmountable task. His school is just off Broadway, which seems to be a major throughfare of NYC. Finding a new coffee shop wasn't hard. Connecting with one was a little more challenging.


Things to look for in a coffee shop:


What do the people behind the counter look like?

Do I like how the clientele dresses?

Is the line too long?

Do the baked goods look good?

Do the baked goods look so good that I'll have to order something every time I come in (which is not good)?

How's the furniture?

And other things like that.


After walking for about 2 1/2 minutes, I did stumble onto one that was calling out to me.



These are just a few of my changes. Some may be very similar to yours (=), some be greater than (<), and some of your changes may be less than mine (>). Your changes would then be so miniscule, they may not reflect on anyone's radar! Obviously, this could be a nice segue to my next Tumbleweed which could be about Math. . . or not.


If you'd like to read more about change, this month's Oprah Magazine features "15 Tiny Changes That Will Change Your Life." I did consider reading the article, but I realize I don't want to change my life drastically. This recommendation for her magazine has been unsolicited. But Oprah, if you or your people are reading this, your contribution in any way is greatly appreciated. Thank you Oprah, in advance!