Holly is my very favorite star!!

 

The family with Holly!

I love flying after dark. It is lovely to watch the beauty of towns lip away into the darkness with the sliver of a moon and the planets to guide the airplane. I settled back with my new book and the small reading light above. I always have a new book (yes, a  new hard-copy book) for the trips I take. It is quite delicious to open it up to page one and begin a new journey.

After a while, I feel a nod coming on, but the gentleman next to me began a conversation. He was from Maine with the purest accent. His job, as it turned out, is a ferry boat captain in Maine. I told him about the love I have for Ocracoke, and the ferry rides I took there. He looked at me with an interesting look and said the name of his ferry is The Ocracoke. They buy used ferries from other places. We had a good chat about ferries and islands and soon we landed.

My trip was a popcorn visit to Charleston to see Abe’s family. My usual holiday visit was put on hold to go to Florida for Adam’s wedding so now I had the chance to visit before ramping up for my own tech week. So, you ask, why did I choose this past weekend to visit with all the show work ahead of me? There is a simple one-word answer. Holly.

Unbelievably, Holly is a senior in high school this year and their theatre department had their spring musical this past weekend. Nothing could have kept me away as it was her last high school show. I love knowing that I played a role in her love of theatre as she and Brianna have been active participants in my LaGrange summer theatre for the past several summers. In fact, Holly helped me write one of the shows. She loves acting and was always such a role model for the other young actors.

Holly attends Wanda High School with a population of 3,000 students. It is a public school with a focus on the arts. They are at the top of the state for their art’s programs featuring music, theatre, dance, and graphic arts. Holly had small parts in the shows before this one, but she was cast in one of the main roles in the show, Chicago.

I don’t know if you are familiar with the show written by John Kander, Fred Ebb, and Bob Fosse. It premiered on Broadway on June 3, 1975, with 936 performances. It was directed and choreographed by the brilliant Bob Fosse. I first saw it in New York City years ago, and when Holly told me that it would be the show for her senior year, I was definitely surprised. Now they have an amazing theatre department with an equally amazing director and lots of resources at their fingertips, but still, Chicago?  It is a huge show with so many moving parts.

Holly was cast as Mary Sunshine with speaking, singing and dancing parts. There was absolutely no way I was going to miss this show even with the time crunch I felt. The theatre was full for each production with over 600 in attendance. The set was gorgeous and to top it off was the sign, Chicago, over the whole stage lit up in stage lights. Abe was brought in for consultation for the sign and then had the pleasure and the knowledge to build it. It was the perfect addition and brought a shout out from the director. Abe and Kristin went to opening night while I watched the twins and then we all went on Saturday night sitting in the second row. The show was electrifying from beginning to end, and, of course, I could not take my eyes off Holly. She was perfect…she really was, and she was in her element. So was I. Each show was topped with a standing ovation!

The popcorn visit gave me time to be with all of them from helping in the yard to playing with the kids. It was full of fun and memories.

By 4:00 a.m. on Sunday I was back at the airport and coming home to my own show which opens this weekend. Theatre is not everyone’s cup of tea, I know that. But when it is in your blood, you are hooked for life.

Congratulations to my lovely granddaughter and to the cast and crew at Wando High School!

 

A director is born!

 

At the premiere of Arsenic and Old Lace!

I know many folks love March Madness. I do too. Seriously. I look forward to March Madness every year, and sometimes the madness spills into April. I am not talking about basketball! Confused you a bit, didn’t I? No, I am talking about theatre. It seems as if most schools and communities delve into theatre during the winter months to bring you brilliant pieces of theatre for March and April. My own calendar is dotted with shows…some are mine…but most are around the area.

And why theatre? Why even do theatre? What is the purpose? Anton Chekhov once said, “You should feel a flow of joy because you are alive. Your body will feel full of life. That is what you must give from the stage. Your life. No less. That is art: to give all you have.”

So many folks I know did theatre in high school or early years of community theatre as a young adult. Me too. I loved theatre in high school. I loved anything about getting on a stage! I kid around a bit saying I was once in the NFL. True story. The high school version of NFL is the National Forensic League. My biggest competitor in high school was Shelley Long. Of course, most younger people don’t even know who I am talking about anymore. (By the way, in case you are one of those, she starred in Cheers!) While we were in high school, we had no idea how our lives would spin. She went to Hollywood. I went to college. Sometimes I think back on those days of competition. She was always the one to beat…we took turns.

Those of you who have been a follower of this column know that I got the love of theatre from my dad. In his early years he was a great actor and contributor to the Fort Wayne Civic Theatre. I used to go with him to the rehearsals…hair up in pin curls, pajamas and a housecoat, and slippers. “You must be quiet,” he said. I always had a bit of a hard time being quiet, but I knew if I talked or made any commotion, I wouldn’t get to go back. It was marvelous. Of course, my parents didn’t send me with my dad so I would choose a life of performing. It was simply to give my mom some relief time.

Sitting in that dark theatre night after night and watching my dad was pure gold. Now I sit on the other side of the stage with Lydia, my assistant director. We have become such a team. We respect each other’s work and ideas. Always.

This past weekend we attended the show Arsenic and Old Lace at Gaslight Theatre in Kendallville. I love the show and I directed the show at Trine three years ago. One of the stars of the show (indeed, there were many) was Sean Carpenter. When Sean and I first met, I did not think I realized the talent he kept hidden. In Dracula he just had a bit part carrying lanterns and helping backstage. But Sean was the kind of guy that stepped in wherever and whenever needed. This past weekend Sean was the director of Arsenic in Kendallville. I was invited to the dress rehearsal with Lydia. We took my two Kathy friends and off we went.

Sean was wearing his Arsenic t-shirt. So was I, but a different one from our show. There were only the four of us at the dress rehearsal, so Sean sat with us. I watched the show with one eye and one eye on this new young director! It was hard for me to see a different cast and echoes of voices from my Trine students filled the air. Sean said it took a while to get those images out of his head too, but after a while he was able to see his cast.

After the dress rehearsal, the cast swarmed down upon us. (Well, there were only four of us!) We loved the show. I asked Sean, “So what do you prefer? Directing or acting?” He immediately replied, “Acting!” Nonetheless, Sean, you are now in the director’s circle.

So many shows are coming your way for March Madness. Go see them all, if you can. Students, community members, teachers all try to work their magic while you are there. It is never perfect. That is what live theatre is all about.

Congratulations, Sean, for a job well done!

The Director's Circle!

 

Sean and I after the dress rehearsl!

I know many folks love March Madness. I do too. Seriously. I look forward to March Madness every year, and sometimes the madness spills into April. I am not talking about basketball! Confused you a bit, didn’t I? No, I am talking about theatre. It seems as if most schools and communities delve into theatre during the winter months to bring you brilliant pieces of theatre for March and April. My own calendar is dotted with shows…some are mine…but most are around the area.

And why theatre? Why even do theatre? What is the purpose? Anton Chekhov once said, “You should feel a flow of joy because you are alive. Your body will feel full of life. That is what you must give from the stage. Your life. No less. That is art: to give all you have.”

So many folks I know did theatre in high school or early years of community theatre as a young adult. Me too. I loved theatre in high school. I loved anything about getting on a stage! I kid around a bit saying I was once in the NFL. True story. The high school version of NFL is the National Forensic League. My biggest competitor in high school was Shelley Long. Of course, most younger people don’t even know who I am talking about anymore. (By the way, in case you are one of those, she starred in Cheers!) While we were in high school, we had no idea how our lives would spin. She went to Hollywood. I went to college. Sometimes I think back on those days of competition. She was always the one to beat…we took turns.

Those of you who have been a follower of this column know that I got the love of theatre from my dad. In his early years he was a great actor and contributor to the Fort Wayne Civic Theatre. I used to go with him to the rehearsals…hair up in pin curls, pajamas and a housecoat, and slippers. “You must be quiet,” he said. I always had a bit of a hard time being quiet, but I knew if I talked or made any commotion, I wouldn’t get to go back. It was marvelous. Of course, my parents didn’t send me with my dad so I would choose a life of performing. It was simply to give my mom some relief time.

Sitting in that dark theatre night after night and watching my dad was pure gold. Now I sit on the other side of the stage with Lydia, my assistant director. We have become such a team. We respect each other’s work and ideas. Always.

This past weekend we attended the show Arsenic and Old Lace at Gaslight Theatre in Kendallville. I love the show and I directed the show at Trine three years ago. One of the stars of the show (indeed, there were many) was Sean Carpenter. When Sean and I first met, I did not think I realized the talent he kept hidden. In Dracula he just had a bit part carrying lanterns and helping backstage. But Sean was the kind of guy that stepped in wherever and whenever needed. This past weekend Sean was the director of Arsenic in Kendallville. I was invited to the dress rehearsal with Lydia. We took my two Kathy friends and off we went.

Sean was wearing his Arsenic t-shirt. So was I, but a different one from our show. There were only the four of us at the dress rehearsal, so Sean sat with us. I watched the show with one eye and one eye on this new young director! It was hard for me to see a different cast and echoes of voices from my Trine students filled the air. Sean said it took a while to get those images out of his head too, but after a while he was able to see his cast.

After the dress rehearsal, the cast swarmed down upon us. (Well, there were only four of us!) We loved the show. I asked Sean, “So what do you prefer? Directing or acting?” He immediately replied, “Acting!” Nonetheless, Sean, you are now in the director’s circle.

So many shows are coming your way for March Madness. Go see them all, if you can. Students, community members, teachers all try to work their magic while you are there. It is never perfect. That is what live theatre is all about.

Congratulations, Sean, for a job well done!

 

After the snows of winter...

 

One day after I wrote this story, I found this treasure in my garden!

With the melting of the snow, comes my first big walk around the garden. I do mean walking around and not just leaning over my porch railing, which is something I do every single day. By day I lean over my railing, by night I sit out on the bench waiting for the free show…night after night. This weekend came the first stroll!

Now I traipse around the garden as if I am going on a treasure hunt without a very good map. The Autumn leaves are still gathered in bunches on the flower beds as I leave them to become winter homes for eggs and larvae. Did you know the abundant summer fireflies live inside those leaves? Shh…let’s not wake them up quite yet.

But there are signs in the garden. My daffodils are now sprouting up four inches. I have bunches and bunches of them waiting to share their beauty and color to this old garden of mine. The crocuses are just pushing up and probably by next week, their petals will appear amongst the leaves and any new snow that could yet fall. Let’s move on to the chives which are starting to uncurl in a tiny pattern. The forsythia bush has small shoots also just begging to bloom and color the sky golden yellow. In case you missed it, the turkey vultures are back as well as the red-winged blackbirds. These are the most visible signs of spring, but I know there are rumblings under the ground. With the rain forecast, I am sure the earthworms will begin to wiggle their way out of the ground. Oh, how I love those earthworms as they are nature’s way of tilling our gardens!

March is such a lovely month…come in like a lion or go out like a lamb! Here in northeastern Indiana, it has indeed come in like a lamb, so we know what that means. I have not seen too many kids outside playing or bike riding yet, but I am sure that will change as we move into March. But besides earthworms or daffodils, today is a splendid day for sky viewing. If you were up early this morning, there was a slim chance to see the full moon amongst the clouds. The moon was at its fullest at 6:38 this morning. I love the March full moon as it has so many names from different cultures. We know it best by calling it the Worm Moon. I always thought this name meant the earthworms would be crawling about (and they will be), but I made a little discovery this week. Some scholars think the name came from Captain Jonathan Carver, an early North American explorer, in 1760. Old stories say he chose the name, Worm Moon, due to beetle larvae from tree bark. After reading that, I really loved the earthworm story best of all! What are the other names for this moon? Sugar Moon. Wind Strong Moon. Sore Eyes Moon. Goose Moon. Crow Comes Back Moon. (That one is my favorite!) Hopefully you were able to see one of those moons!

Not only was the moon full this morning, but a lovely phenomenon occurred around the same time. (I do apologize for not sharing this last week!) From 6:04-7:02 this morning, if you were watching, you were in for a lovely treat as the moon turned Blood Red for the total lunar eclipse. I do hope you were able to see it.

I think March is a perfectly lovely month even as we navigate a bit of rain and mud. The blue skies of the weekend were a harbinger of what is to come. I even hung laundry out on the line!  To me, laundry on the clothesline is a perfect way to welcome back a spring day!  Winter isn’t quite over yet, I know. We all know that one more snowstorm will probably come our way, and that is okay. I always wonder, “Is this the last snowfall?” We are all ready for March. Bring on the earthworms, and the wind, and the sky of blue. We welcome you. Who better to welcome spring than Emily Dickinson!

Dear March—Come in—
How glad I am—
I hoped for you before—
Put down your Hat—
You must have walked—
How out of Breath you are—
Dear March, how are you, and the Rest—
Did you leave Nature well—
Oh March, Come right upstairs with me—
I have so much to tell—

Late Winter Sunrise and watching the Night Sky

 

Late Winter Sunrise off of my Balcony

Last night, as usual, I sat outside on the bench in my backyard. Maybe this is the favorite part of my day. Often, I carry a cup of tea; although sometimes it is cold before I even get to the bench! Last night was no different. The steam dissipated in moments. Nonetheless, it was stunning.

The sky is always beautiful in the winter. There is something about the sunsets that bring a catch in my throat as I enjoy the beauty. Last night the waxing gibbous moon played hide-n-seek with Jupiter as we also say farewell to Saturn. I wish everyone would take a few moments outside at nighttime just to reflect on the day and be away from all distractions…if only for a few moments.

Once when I was at Hamilton, we did Moon Journals. The students decorated the covers with stickers and drawings of the moon. The idea was to record every single night what they observed. Sometimes it was just a gray sky or rain or fog or snow. Other times, the brilliance of the moon and planets did take their breath away. They were always excited about their journals and loved sharing them in class.

As I sat last night, the reflection from the moon and the nearby streetlamp cast a pale glow on the snow. Memories flooded back to me as they often do.

Waking up to snow days was so magical. No elearning! (I would not have done well with that.) But, listening to the door creak open as my mom whispered, “No school.” What makes a child happier than that? As I look back, I think, ahh…sleeping in would have been good, but who wants to waste a day. Time to get up and dress and head outside to play and back in for cocoa and back out for play. I know moms fret those times in and out with children. The worst part of a snow day was when it was over. We always hoped for another one, but usually just one at a time. My children were the same way out the door for the day, back in for lunch and back out. Luckily, and I do mean luckily, I did not grow up with social media or phones and neither did my three sons. Their fun and joy was outside, and it did not matter what time of year. They were always outside in the winter playing, ice fishing, ice skating, doing chores.

In my childhood, there was also skating at McMillan Ice Rink…every single night. I was such a good skater even wearing my grandpa’s jacket from The Big One. I always went with my girlfriends as we did not talk to boys, at least not yet. We walked to the rink even though we lived a mile away.  No one ever had rides to anything! We carried our skates over our shoulders and made our way through the park. Oh, not on the sidewalks. Oh no. We walked through the open areas stopping to make snow angels and help each other up. We always helped each other up. Once at the rink, we changed into our skates leaving our worn winter boots by the benches hoping someone would steal them. No one ever did. We skated til the rink closed and we had to go home. Again, walking home in the dark. No one ever picked us up. The snow sparkled like diamonds and rubies and emeralds. I always laughed and said that someday I would be rich with those jewels. Of course, that day never came. Nor do I want that day to come. I want my riches in love and kindness and humanity. I don’t care about other things.

Reaching our street, we walked down the middle of the street still chatting as cars swerved around us, I mean, we were the ice skaters. Arriving home, I hung up my skates and my grandpa’s jacket in time for meat loaf and mashed potatoes. The house was warm and cozy, the table set. It was a lovely childhood, and winter was magical.

I do hope these past few days have been fun and magical for kids and for families. How wonderful to spend time together to play games, or to take walks. It is about letting children be children. I envy you, parents, who still have children in your care. Enjoy them. Let this winter be full of gratefulness. Spend time with your children. They need you.

Skating for the gold!

 

Alyssa Liu celebrating her gold medal.

We all watched Alyssa Liu at the Winter Olympics. I could hear all of us collectively holding our breath as she skated free as a bird in the wind with her swirling gold-glittered dress. She appeared to be ethereal as she literally floated with joy as she skated across the ice. I loved it. I loved her. I loved the joy she brought to herself, to her talent and to the Olympics for all the world to see.

I have always been enamored by ice skaters. When I was a little girl, I fell in love with Carol Heiss. She won the gold medal in 1960 at the Olympic games in Squaw Valley, California. She won the silver medal in 1956 in Italy but won the World Championship that same year. Following that win, her mother became ill and asked Carol to win the gold medal for her at the next Olympics. And she did. She was ranked first by all nine judges.

I don’t know how I became so aware of her or so attached to her at a young age. I remember ordering a scholastic book about her and finding it on my desk after recess one day. It was a shiny new book with her picture on the cover. Sometimes new books take my breath away. They are always an adventure to begin. I read it over and over and over and was determined to become her. I had many goals as a kid, but this was one of my biggest goals.

When I was ten years old, we moved close to McMillen Park with the outdoor skating rink. It was my lucky year as it was my Uncle Norman who owned the rink. It was spectacular for me as I was new to the school and didn’t have any friends yet, so I invited all the girls to skate with me. I told them my Uncle Norman was rich and would pay our way. And he did. Night after night. After walking through the snow in our old boots, we met Uncle Norman outside the rink as he took money for the after-school skate. We just took off our mittens and let him stamp our hands…no money exchanged. Once we changed out of those winter boots and laced up our skates, we were free as a bird. It was magical taking to the ice. I loved skating. I thought I was good even though I had to wear long leggings and my grandpa’s big coat. I could spin and twirl and skate backwards. I knew the Olympics were in my own future.

That year we skated every night except the nights it warmed up and the week I had the flu. Walking home each night we once again walked through the snow. We made snow angels and admired the beauty of the new snow. When the moon shone, the snow held magic as if was full of glistening diamonds. I bragged about my skating. When I am rich and famous as a skater, I will wear diamonds on all my fingers, I said to the girls. They nodded.

Finally, we went home. Home to meatloaf and mashed potatoes. I wiped the blades clean before hanging up my skates on the back hook. I always knew another skate was waiting for me at the rink. That was the only year I skated every night. It wasn’t really that the dream diminished, it was that life was full of other adventures. I still skated, but not with that intensity. I still wanted to be famous though!

As I watched Alyssa skate last week, I felt it all come back to me. I felt the wind on my face. I felt the thrill of lacing up those skates. I felt the Zen moments of just leaving everything behind and skating for joy, pure joy. It also brought back all those feelings I had for the lovely Carol Heiss.

Hearty congratulations to Alyssa for bringing joy and beauty to ice skating.

Of course I didn’t grow up to be a skater. Jonah did though. He is a fine hockey player and a blur on the ice. I love that he keeps this tradition going.

As for my Uncle Norman, I found out later he wasn’t my uncle after all. No, he was just a family friend who worked at the rink as a second job. But every night, when I was ten, he paid for me and all my friends.

 

 

So, what do the Monks and Bad Bunny have in common??

 

I live in a pretty little purple house on a pretty little street in a pretty little town. I do. Most of my day-to-day life is within a one-mile radius. The University. The theatre. The shops and restaurants and movie theatre. The grocery store. I love this. I love living where I know the folks tending shops, know the folks at the University, and know my neighbors. It is all charming in every way. But I also know the world is big and vast and full of color and culture, and I love being part of that too.

My passport is a record of my cultural beliefs taking me from London to China to Prague. My U.S. travel has taken me from Okracoke Island to Seattle to Denver to Dallas. I have traveled by train, plane, bus, ferry, car and yes, bicycle! I have been blessed in my life by the eternal words of my Uncle Dean, “Be curious about everything.” I think of that daily.

Curiosity also opens the mind, the heart and the soul of experiences. I can find these while drinking tea in my pretty little purple house. This winter I have experienced just that.

I don’t know when I first became aware of the Buddhist Monks, and their dog, Aloka. I think it was after Christmas when the first post came through. I was immediately captivated by the story. A group of 24 Monks began their 2,300 mile walk for peace on October 26, 2025. The journey took 120 days from the Huong Dao Vipassano Bhavan Center in Fort Worth, Texas. The end of their journey is today in Washington, D.C.

Every morning when I wake up, I check on the Monks. Are they healthy? Did they sleep well? Were they received with love? Their walk has taken them through snowstorms, blizzards, deep Arctic cold and still they walked. People along the way have showered them with flowers and bracelets, which the Monks gave back to those along their way. They have been fed by towns and cities embracing their message, housed by churches and synagogues and centers set up for them. Personal challenges brought out their love and bravery as they marched. One Monk was struck by a car near Dayton, Texas. His left leg had to be amputated. His doctors were overcome with inspiration as he never became angry and was full of forgiveness.

Why did they walk? For love. For unity. For compassion. To give us all hope.

My other reason for hope on this February day was the half-time show by Bad Bunny. Now, I will say, do I know much about his music? (Well, I do now!) Do I know Spanish? No, I do not. But do I know a man full of joy and love for this country and his own culture? I do. The first part of the Superbowl I was at rehearsal for our new show so I caught the second part of Bad Bunny’s show and the first part on Youtube. (Lucky for us to have all of this available.) I am not embarrassed to say I cried and cried. It was so beautiful and full of the same values of the Monks. Love. Unity. Compassion.

Have we come so far in this country that we have lost those values? Have we lost trust in our friends or neighbors or those we do not agree with? I can only hope that our minds are open, our hearts are open, and our eyes are open.

Two cultural phenomenons have come our way this winter. Two completely different cultures have pulled at our heart strings. How interesting to me to have these two residing within my own mind telling the same story. Today, when I woke up, I was filled with much hope. I wish the same for you. Let’s take what we have learned and share it. Can we walk 2,300 miles or shake up the stage at the Superbowl? Probably not. But we can do what we do best, my friends. Hold the door for someone, say thank you, shovel walks, pay for groceries, make dinners.

As I said, I live in a pretty little purple house on a pretty little street in a pretty little town. But my passport and my travels tell stories about life and culture. And, if you can’t travel in real time, there’s plenty of traveling from your armchair.

“The only thing more powerful than hate is love.” Bad Bunny, 2026 Superbowl.

A celebration of St. Brigid and a big welcome to February!

 

February is such a fun month. Even though it is a short month there are so many traditions steeped in folklore. When we think of February, we think of the color red. At least I do. Red for hearts and Valentines and everything associated with February. The actual birthstone for February is amethyst, which is purple!

Folklore dots the landscape for this month, and of course, I am always tuned in to that. I love learning more about the ancients and folklore even if we all just go about our lives. For the next few moments, let’s just take a folkloric trip. Maybe we will learn some fun facts or just some fun traditions to make our lives more joyful. I know I will be learning some new things here also!

Let’s head to Ireland to talk about the old Celtic tradition of Brigid’s Night which also divides the winter in half, the other half marches towards spring. Brigid was so much engrained into the Irish that the Catholic Church made her the patron saint of Ireland. Her job is to reign over mothers and cattle and poets. Yes, you read that right. She is the patron saint of poets. Thousands of years ago the Romans took to the streets on St. Brigid night carrying candles and torches to frighten away the evil spirits. In the year 600 A.D. a festival, known as Candlemas, evolved to carry on the tradition. Some traditions still linger in Ireland from those days. One of which I carry out myself, and that is to place a cloth outside on January 31. This cloth is to be a cherished piece of clothing…from a child or something special that you wear. For me, I put out my favorite shawl. I tied it around my evening bench. Okay, I know this is just for fun, but why not? Nothing changed for me that night, or did it?

Yesterday was Groundhog Day. I always love this day and try to watch the movie every year! Years ago…many years ago…it was the badger, not the groundhog. Folks watched for the badger to emerge from the den of roots and tubers underground. Would the badger come out or not? Of course, we know the answer to that! If the badger saw his (or her) shadow, winter would linger on! When the German immigrants settled here, they brought that tradition with them. It then became the groundhog. We all watch closely…will he…won’t he? I am laughing because no matter what happens with the lovely groundhog winter is just half over.

Yes, Groundhog Day is the cross-quarter day meaning the halfway point between winter and spring. Wait! We are halfway there already? I mean, I had a lot of projects planned for this winter, and yet they are still waiting for me. Of course, all my own activities keep me going so there never is lots of time for those projects. Why do I even think I could get them done in the winter months? Hopefully, you have had better luck by reading more books or cleaning closets!

If I am not cleaning closets, then what am I doing? I guess the usual…teaching classes, directing theatre, and my favorite February hobby? I love the seed catalogues. Nothing says February better than the seed catalogues. Hopefully you are as excited about your gardens as I am. No, I am not wishing winter to be over, but I am having a great time planning the gardens as I drool over photos of cottage gardens. I save these photos, especially the ones for cottage gardens.

So, my friends, I love sharing folklore and traditions with you. It is okay if you did not put out a scarf for St. Brigid’s Night (maybe next year), and it is okay if you aren’t cleaning closets or even planning your garden. But what is important during this beginning of February is that you spend some time outside. The sunsets are amazing during the winter months. Pokagon offers trails for hiking and skiing. The air is so much cleaner and crisper in the winter months. And no matter what the lovely Punxsutawney Phil has to say, there will be six more weeks of winter whether we like it or not!

 Next week we will be talking about starting seeds and bringing in the pussy willows. Stay tuned! And now a word from Thomas Chatterton.

“Come, February, lend thy darkest sky,

There teach the winter’s muse with clouds to soar…”

 

 

A celebration of Burns Night in my small town!

 

Robert Burns was born in Alloway, Scotland on January 25^th in1759. His father was a tenant farmer in Alloway but moved his family around as he purchased larger farms. Robert’s educational upbringing took him to Dalrymple School and was also taught by John Murdoch and his own father.

Burns was a voracious reader and was able to learn about language and vocabulary and thoughts of the day by reading Shakespeare, Milton, Dryden. He loved the Scottish folk tales along with the songs and ballads.  His tutor, Murdoch, introduced him to the poetry of Alexander Pope and he became versed in Latin and French as well. Burns, in turn, became a tenant farmer like his father without having plans to become the national bard of Scotland. However, his love of poetry and his writing of poetry was so strong that he could not stop writing. His first poem, Handsome Nell, was published in 1774.

Times were difficult in Scotland then, and it was hard to make a living. In 1792 he took a job with the Dumfries Port Division making 70 pounds per year.  Even though he had to earn a living for his family, he kept writing. In all, Robert Burns wrote more than 550 poems and ballads within his short life. He died on July 21,1796  in Scotland.

He is known as the national bard of Scotland. Some scholars feel he has preserved the language and dialect. They still love him in Scotland. Once, when I was in Scotland, I took a Robert Burns tour. The tour guide was great as we walked around Edinburgh. As we meandered through the streets, our tour guide would stop and recite poetry of Burns. My favorite was when we walked into a cathedral, and we were treated to the poem, My Luve is Like a Red, Red Rose. I still remember his beautiful red silk lined cape flinging about as he recited this piece. It was a moment I will never forget.

On Thursday evening, at our newly established Cork and Barrel, we will be celebrating Burns Night. The event will begin at 6:00 and conclude at 8:00 with the singing of Auld Lang Syne, which was written by Burns. April, from Cork and Barrel, has made a special whiskey drink in his honor so we may toast the Bard. In other cities, the celebration includes haggis and tatties!  (We will just enjoy the whiskey!) To make the evening even more special, my good friend and piper, Mark Gropp, will be sharing tunes on the pipe. In full regalia, he will fill the corners of Cork and Barrel with traditional Scottish tunes, In between his songs, members of the Steuben County Theatre will be reading his poetry. Jacob McNeal will be emceeing the event. You will be treated to many of his poems and even a place in the evening for you! If you have a favorite Burns poem, please bring it along to read. We welcome you. By the way, there is no cost to this event.

It is anticipated that 9.5 million folks will be celebrating Burns Night across the world. It began on July 21, 1801 to honor the poem on the 5^th anniversary of his death. The first event was actually held in his Burns cottage. The celebration eventually moved to celebrate his birth.

As you know, I am a great lover of poetry and song. My bookshelves are full of poetry books and notes and my own scribblings. I love knowing that we can be part of a bigger celebration held around the world. I mean, how many small towns like ours celebrate in such a big way? If you have never attended a Burns Night, you will have a chance to participate and learn something along the way. (As I write the script for Jacob, I learn something new in every sentence!)

Bring your singing voices for the final song of Auld Lang Syne, and if you own a kilt, please wear it. This is your opportunity! Can’t wait to see you on Thursday evening!

And now, let me share some of the words of My Luve is Like a Red, Red Rose.

O my Luve is like a red, red rose

That’s newly sprung in June;

O my Luve is like the melody

That’s sweetly played in tune.

 

And fare thee weel, my only luve!

And fare thee weel awhile!

And I will come again, my luve,

Though it were ten thousand mile.

 

Robert Burns

 

The Business of Art with Eric Rhoads.

 Eric Rhoads doing what he does best, PleinAir painting!

Growing up I had five younger siblings. As with most kids, when we are young, we always prefer other families. In my case it was my Uncle Dean’s family. We spent most of our holidays, including birthdays and summer excursions to my grandparents’ lake cottage, with Uncle Dean’s family. His boys weren’t just our cousins, but quite frankly, mischief makers. And who doesn’t love that? What trouble can we get into as kids with all of us and the three boy cousins? They were all close in age to me, and each one brought something different to our group.

They were fun in so many ways. One Halloween my Aunt Jeannie brought in a make-up artist to do our make-up, and since I was going trick-or-treating with my cousins, I was there for my make-up too. I wasn’t allowed to look in the mirror until I was all made up and finished and ready to go out. I was so excited to look. I was usually a witch so I knew it might be a little scary. I was absolutely not prepared for what I saw in the mirror. It scared me so much that I called my mom to come get me. I never did go trick-or-treating that year.

As always, kids grow up. We did, and in our case, everyone moved far away. Only one of the nine of us stayed in Fort Wayne. We are scattered across the United States. But just because we are far away from each other doesn’t mean that we don’t check in and, of course, funerals bring us all together.

Out of all the three boys, I was the closest to the youngest, Rick. He followed his dreams all through his life reaching one goal after another. He worked in radio for a long time until he realized his real passion was in art. Oh, not just any art, his vision was to revive the PleinAir movement. For those of you who are not sure of what that means, let me tell you. PleinAir, according to the Oxford dictionary, means “Denoting or in the manner of a 19^th-century style of painting outdoors with a strong sense of the open air, that became a central feature of French impressionism.”

Rick was already a painter so taking the next step, pursuing his next dream was natural. He began attending workshops and connecting with artists in the field. He began with publishing a PleinAir magazine which eventually morphed into the Fine Art Connoisseur.

Not only does Rick paint and publish magazines, he hosts a daily (yes, I said daily) lesson in art on his Facebook page. He has guests every day who share their love and techniques for art. Once in a while I tune in, but his talent and mine live in different corners. As hard as I try (okay, maybe not that hard), I am awful. I can’t even make a gingerbread house! I do, however, find these lessons fascinating. He also takes groups across the United States and around the world just to paint. I often ask him, “Don’t you need a storyteller for your group?”

It is with great pleasure and fun that Rick will be here on Saturday as the keynote speaker for the conference on Business of Art sponsored by Steuben Arts Scene. It was months ago that Vicki Thompson, president of the Steuben Arts Scene, told me about the conference at the T. Furth Center for the Performing Arts on Saturday, January 17. Eric was asked to be the keynote speaker, but they needed a bit of a nudge from me. I did that, of course. His schedule is very tight with his own work, workshops, traveling so he had to make sure all was clear. Well, my friends, coming to Angola is exactly what is happening on Saturday. I am still amazed that he made that happen, and I am thrilled.

The conference begins at 8:30 on Saturday. Teachers and students get in free. Seriously? This is going to be splendid, and I have the privilege of introducing Rick, known in the art world as Eric, on Saturday. Put this on your calendar! I will be so happy to see you on Saturday and introduce you to an outstanding man!

I want to leave you with a quote from Rick, “Never give up on something in which you are passionate about, and committed in doing. I love art. I love doing PleinAir Magazine.”  See you on Saturday!

New Year's Eve Wedding

 

It was a rainy and foggy night to the airport. I wore my Christmas lights strung around my neck beckoning Rudolph to join us, but alas, alas. When we reached the airport, Aaron dropped us all off as he went to park and we quickly went into the warm, well-lit airport in South Bend. Even with the late-night hour and the dark and the fog, I could not  have been happier. Seven of us were traveling together to attend Adam’s wedding in St. Pete. Our seats were all close together on the plane so I could turn around and wave and smile and just be happy we were all together.

Those of you who travel in family groups know how difficult it is to plan these kinds of trips working around everyone’s schedule. However, we knew well in advance so we could all clear our schedules for the week after Christmas and make our plans. And really, what fun is a New Year’s Eve wedding?

We arrived in St. Pete in the wee hours of the morning with our GPS set on our Airbnb. Of course, I am always a bit nervous about booking an Airbnb without seeing it first, but it looked great in the photos, and it was big enough for all of us plus Abe! I never should have feared as it was terrific with rooms for everyone! By morning, with the Florida sunshine pouring into the kitchen, we could see the blue water of the Gulf. Rachel was the first to investigate as she took her early morning run to check out little boutiques and coffee shops. The kids all spent their morning touring around the town. The guys all went fishing! By afternoon we were over by the beaches, and even though the water was chilly, they all took a dive and went swimming. I just filmed the event!!

Lunch was long and lazy by the water, and then it was time to head over to Adam and Lisa’s house. They had spent long weekends getting the yard ready with lots of string lights and perfecting the lawn areas. Adam has a sweet bungalow right on the path of the SunRunner, the local bus which travels all over St. Pete. We sat outside telling stories until the sky turned inky black and the late December night sky was our canopy. I guess you could say that I really could not have been happier to have my family all together at the table.

We left before midnight as we meandered back to our Airbnb. We hollered good night to each other before closing our own doors. Sleep came easily after the long night before, and once again, sunshine spilled all over the kitchen floor. We spent the next two days getting ready. The kids were great at moving furniture, setting up tables, washing down the rented chairs. We were doing all the cooking, so we started in on that. By late night on New Year’s Eve Eve, we were heading downtown for the bachelorette party. Again, we took the bus, and it was quite the adventure. Lisa was beautiful and everyone wished her congratulations and wanted to hear the love story everywhere we went. It was a great time, and a great party.

New Year’s Eve brought a cold front to Florida. We really did have to laugh about it as it was to reach a record low. We were prepared with heaters and a campfire in the corner at the s’mores bar. Nothing, but nothing could deter our happiness. By 8:00, the twinkle lights were on, the food was ready, the fireworks (yes, Abe brought fireworks) were ready, and so were we. Folks began to arrive coming from everywhere…some flew in and some drove. We had to search for more chairs. The wedding was just lovely and completely magical. Aaron and Abe stood up with him as did Rachel and a family friend. We laughed, we cried, we celebrated until the wee hours. At the stroke of midnight, it was as if all St. Pete began to celebrate with us as the fireworks went off all around us.

The next day was clean up, and a late farewell. It was hard to leave as it had all been magical. I didn’t want it to end. When we arrived back home it was snowing

It was late when I finally arrived at my old purple house, I went to bed and simply whispered, “Good night, family.”

"It's Almost Christmas," said my dad.

On Christmas night the six of us children lined up on the staircase ready to go to bed. Some carried new books or dolls, or trucks and trains. We were always allowed to take one present to bed with us. Of course, I always took my new book. As happy as we were to have Christmas, we were absolutely forlorn, at least I was. It wasn’t as if I was unhappy because I wasn’t. We were saddened that it was all over. I feel the same way now. Oh, not the presents, but the music, the lights, the concerts, the planning, the dinners, the celebrations and the pure joy. I recognized those feelings as a kid. As we stood there on the stairsteps, my dad stood at the bottom and with one hand in the air, he always said, “It’s almost Christmas,” and snapped his fingers. I guess that made us feel better as we clamored off to bed.

“It’s almost Christmas.” So many years later, those words come back to me on Christmas night. I came home from Aaron and Rachel’s to a quiet house with a beautiful tree in my pine-scented house. My dad’s words echoed as I sat down with a hot cup of tea to think about the season. It was a wonderful Christmas season and exactly how I wanted to spend it with friends and family. But I feel differently about his words now. Truthfully, Dad, I don’t want it to be almost Christmas. I want this very moment, and I want Valentine’s Day and Memorial Day. I want gardening season, and a lovely birthday in the heat of July. I want Autumn leaves to fall and spend two months loving Halloween, but mostly I just want this rainy, soggy almost New Year’s Eve Day.

This is a different last week of vacation for me. Along with Aaron and Rachel’s family, we are taking a flight to a special location for a special event. Intrigued? I thought so. I will chat more about this next week, but for now, let me just say I do not often get to spend New Year’s Eve with my three sons. We will all be together this year, and that is so wonderful.

New Year’s Eve has always been fun for me. As a kid, we could stay up until midnight! For a child, that alone is magical. At the stroke of midnight we took out the pots and pans and banged them for all the world to hear. I don’t remember any parties on New Year’s Eve as a kid. When my own boys were teenagers, they always had New Year’s Eve parties at the farm. The house was full of young people. I loved those times. We played cards all night and celebrated Abe’s birthday.

The past few years I spent the evening with the Charleston Children. One year, when the parents were traveling, we all stayed at the beach house and providing each child with a flashlight we went down to the beach at dusk to look for crabs and see the last sunset of the year. Some years we just made lava cakes and always watch the ball drop.

A new year conjures up thoughts of resolutions. Oh, how many resolutions have we all made over the years? It is always to lose the last ten pounds. Every year the same. It is always to eat less chocolate, workout more, write more, be a better friend, be a better neighbor, be a better person. We all make these long lists. Some are easy, and we keep them for a day, a week, maybe a month? Others fall by the wayside before the end of New Year’s Day. (Seriously, I will lose ten pounds after the holidays!)

It is a time of reflection, at least it is for me. What were my joys and accomplishments this year and what do I hope to accomplish this coming year? I, once again, have a full list…some personal, some professional.

As the year ends, take some time to think about your own joys for the year. I hope you have a list of them. Today I will clean my studio, send thank you notes, pay the last of the December bills and make my final donations for the year.

Even with the wise words of my dad, let’s remember today is our favorite day.

Happy New Year to all of you, my lovely readers, from my family to yours.

Stille Nacht...

 

Once a month Carolyn and I go to Fort Wayne to play with the ukulele folks there. Their group is called Tru Ukes and meets at the Jefferson Point Pizza Hut. A bit unusual? Yes, it is. The group has been meeting there for years. They play for an hour and a half and then order pizza, of course. We really like playing with them, although their chords seem a little bit harder than the ones we rehearse here in town. I mean, how often do I need a F#7? So, going to their group makes us play a little better, and we sure work a little harder.

The group is led by a lovely couple, Mike and Susan. This past weekend was our meet up! Mike handed out bells for our wrists so that when we played Jingle Bells or any other lively song, we would have fun bells accompanying our uke. We play, on average, 17 songs per session. That is a lot of uke playing. On Saturday, before our last song, Mike told the story of Christmas in the trenches. I was so happy about that. I know that story. I love that story. It was made quite famous by my friend and musician, John McCutcheon, who wrote a ballad about the event. Mike told the story and then we played Silent Night and sang the last verse in German, as it was written.

Since Saturday I just can’t get the song or the story out of my head. I know I have written about it before, maybe even more than once, but if you are a new reader or have forgotten, here is the story.

The year was 1914. It was Christmas Eve on the Western Front. The war was raging. The men were tired, hungry, lonely, homesick, but there they were. On one small part of the front, German soldiers began to sing. They sang songs from their homeland and then they sang Christmas carols. Many Christmas carols are German in origin, so they had plenty to sing. One the other side of the trench was The British Expeditionary Force known as the BEF. The German troops also put up small fir trees along the trenches and small lanterns. I assume they got the trees from the forest. The British men were quite amazed and really didn’t know what to do with this. They had been trained in warfare, but not in this.

The next day, which was Christmas, they joined up together in no man’s land. They exchanged chocolates, cigarettes, and other gifts from back home. In 1914 Britain’s Princess Mary wanted each man to have a gift for Christmas so she sent small packages to each soldier. In the packet were cigarettes and tobacco. These packets were shared. It was said they shared photos of loved ones…many of their sweethearts. They play football. The soldiers did not speak each other’s language, but that did not matter. For two days they celebrated. They helped each other work on the trenches and they gathered their dead from either side and buried them together.

Not everyone was happy about this event. Some officers were worried they would not be able to go back into battle after Christmas. I ask the same question. How can you go back into battle once you know a person…once you see their sweetheart’s picture they keep close in their pocket…once you shared your chocolates and cigarettes?

After this wonderful event, it never happened again. John McCutcheon wrote a song about it and memorialized the event. Perhaps we would never have known the story without McCutcheon.

Sitting with all my friendly uke players, each one in red or green for the holidays, I looked around at them as Mike told the story. Most did not know it, so I was very grateful Mike talked about it. As we turned over our song sheets, there was the last song for us to play. Silent Night with the last verse in German. We played and sang with all our voices and our ukes blending together in harmony. When we got to the last verse, I took a deep breath. I love this song, and I love singing it in German. I sang with all my heart letting tears drip down thinking about Christmas in the trenches in 1914.

Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht,
Alles schläft; einsam wacht
Nur das traute hochheilige Paar.
Holder Knabe im lockigen Haar,
Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh!
Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh!