Month: May 2021

When I was a child, my mom insisted I behave like a young lady, so certain words referring to bodily functions were no-nos. (For example, if one absolutely had to mention “expelling gas”, no four letter rhyming with “smart” could be used.) And heaven forbid the body of a young lady could ever actually perform said (or unsaid) function! I somehow learned to squelch burps and those other no-nos and spent some periods of my life teetering on the brink of explosion, yet always remaining a young lady. So I was appalled when, at age ten, I learned that boy people do not follow the same rules. Case in point –while in the car on the way to a swimming outing with a male friend and his mom, I heard a loud popping noise which was followed by an overwhelming odor. Young lady that I was, I was appalled that this boy person received only an admonishment (his mom snapping his name crossly).

And, apparently, males do not outgrow this.

I was so well indoctrinated that I don’t think I have ever, in 3/4 of a century, uttered the _art word. Ever.

Fast forward to, say, the 1980’s. I had remarried a wonderful gentleman I had met at the theatre. Good manners. Kind. Loving. And this lucky fellow had the dubious privilege of sleeping in the bedroom where Schultzie (the white boxer with the black ring around his eye) spent the night. Keeping Schultz in the bedroom with the door closed was the only way I could help the poor dog manage his affliction of colitis and IBS (Irritable Bowel Syndrome…or, more accurately, Indescribable Boxer Smells. If Schultzie had issues in the middle of the night, he would throw his body against the bed to jar me awake so I could race him to the door for an emergency outing. While I was quite familiar with this long-standing routine, my husband was not. Sooo….not long after my husband had moved in, suddenly in the wee hours of the morning, there was that popping noise and odor as Schultzie fired his warning shots. Before I could get up, my husband leapt from the bed, yelled “Take this!” and fired back!!! I was literally caught in the crossfire!!!

I could kinda forgive the dog….

Opening night, and the critic is in the audience. What could go wrong? Right?

During his college days, my husband (the engineer) pursued his artistic self on the Showboat Majestic in Cincinnati. A favorite story (a historic event, actually) involved the production of “Little Mary Sunshine” (a musical parody) in which he was cast as the villain, an Indian (or Native American, or whatever the designation-of-the-day might be), complete with war paint (makeup shade “Texas Mud”), a headdress, a knife, and a tomahawk.

At the end of Act 1, Yellow Feather’s job was to climb behind the scenery and pop up emitting a wolf cry “to wake everyone up”. On a riverboat, with barges creating a wake in their passing, this could be a bit of a challenge. With a bit of listing and clinging, my husband survived that (Whew!)

Yellow Feather, as the villain, became a prominent character as the show went on. One scene involved his chasing the settlers and brandishing a makeshift tomahawk. Chase to stage right — swipe! Chase to stage left — swipe! Chase to — oops!— one good swipe and Yellow Feather was wielding a short stick as the top half of the tomahawk (makeshift, remember?) flew across the stage! Of course, the music (choreographed) didn’t stop, but Yellow Feather now needed to somehow retrieve the head of the weapon. A few steps left — lurch! — and the music went on without him. A few steps right — lurch! — foiled again! After an embarrassing series of missed musical cues and floundering about the stage, the scene finally, mercifully, came to an end.

Just to carry on the fun and frolic, the following scene called for Yellow Feather to capture and tie up the heroine, after which the hero would show up and a fight would ensue with the hero and Yellow Feather trading flips back and forth. A sight gag was for Yellow Feather to threaten the hero by wiggling said knife so its rubberness was obvious and comical. In keeping with the evening’s events, when the hero flipped Yellow Feather over (perhaps in sync with the boat rocking from a passing barge), the villain lost his grip, and the knife bounced off the stage and into the surprised front row of the audience. So Yellow Feather had to resort to stabbing the hero with a feather from his headdress. (If my husband was red-faced at that point, it was masked by Texas Mud. He could, however, see the director in the balcony ripping his hair out!)

In summary, my husband reports that he was forced to show up for the curtain call because Yellow Feather had to carry the flag out. The critic, of course, noted that “things did not go well” at the end. And, in the absence of the critic, the entire remainder of the show’s run went on without a hitch. And the choreographer even commended my husband for executing his part correctly.

Ah….another opening, another show….

Alas!! I always wanted a poodle skirt when I was in about 5th and 6th grade. So my mom bought me a red flannel skirt. The right shape…but missing the rather important poodle. And I longed for a crinoline that would make the crinkle noise when you moved. My mom bought me a mesh-like flared half slip. (sigh….) No noise. And I so wanted saddle shoes like the cheerleaders wore — narrowish black and white saddles with little perforations around the saddles. My mom bought me good sturdy Buster Browns — brown clunky saddles, no perforations. And yet life was good!!

And –oh, my gosh! In 4th grade my mom wanted to sign me up for violin lessons at school, but I talked her into piano lessons. We did not have a piano so, for 3 years, I practiced after school on an old piano there as well as on my cardboard keyboard (which, of course, made no noise) and once a week at a neighbor’s. No more lessons as of 7th grade, but when I was 14, my mom finally bought a piano. Still have it today! Never became a virtuoso, but I loved to play over the years.

My dad died when I was just over a year old, so my mom had to be my everything. I miss her!