Artist Profile Article

Here's a link to an article I wrote for Greenville Business Magazine about the new Artistic/Executive Director of Centre Stage (a great space where I've acted in two great shows, including last fall's Mauritius).

Rescued Monologue

I wrote an opening monologue for the Buddy Holly concert show I did recently for Centre Stage and I really liked the way it turned out.

Of course, it got cut for time.

So here it is, so I can at least send it out into the world somehow...



The day the music died. It’s a cliché now, but at the time, we hardly knew what to think. Back in 1959, rock and roll was young, a fad, it seemed, followed only by teenagers. Sure, the big news outlets made cursory mentions of the crash, but it was only in the halls of the high schools that the news really reverberated. The few radio stations in town that actually played rock and roll spun some of the hits in memoriam and Dick Clark featured a tribute on his American Bandstand. But it took time for us to really understand what we’d lost. The talent. The music. The potential. These were artists knocked down in their prime, taken away in a senseless tragedy that was miles and years away from the drug overdoses and craziness that would rob us of later musical icons. When that plane went down in that snowy Iowa cornfield, we lost some of our innocence. We lost some amazing innovation. We lost the driving musical genius that had burned so brightly in rock and roll’s infancy.


The last concert they played happened exactly 50 years ago at the Surf Ballroom in Clear Lake, Iowa. Ritchie Valens, the Big Bopper and Buddy Holly were touring with Dion and the Belmonts and a young singer named Frankie Sardo on a tour that was dubbed the Winter Dance Party. What a show that must have been…

25

Yeah, I did that 25 random things about me on the Facebook a few weeks ago. And today I thought I'd post them here because they were fun to write.

1. I am, at the moment I'm typing this, listening to a discotastic track from the recently released soundtrack of Chips. Volume 1. I also own Volume 2. I anticipate buying Volume 3 when it gets released.

2. In high school, I dated the head cheerleader. For two years.

3. My son, Shaw, is named after my great-grandfather. Even though he died when I was young, I have vivid memories of Grampa Shaw (Shaw was his surname -- his first name was Arthur) sitting in his customary spot: the chair beside my grandfather's t.v.

4. My daughter, Emma, is named after my wife's great great great cousin, or some such relationship. Her name was Emma LeConte and she kept a diary when she was 16 or so that documented her experiences as General Sherman marched on Columbia SC where she lived. The diary was later published and is still in print. It's called When the World Ended: The Diary of Emma LeConte and it's a really interesting read.

5. While in middle school I won some kind of contest, maybe you filled out a card at a store and dropped it in the box. The prize was a 40 channel CB. I wish I still had it, even though I still don't know what I'd do with it. Better go take a 10-100.

6. I wrote a short documentary about the SC upstate during World War 2 for an exhibit at a local history museum. I'm informed that it won an award from a national organization, but I've never seen any evidence of that.

7. I've lived in 40 different dwellings.

8. I didn't cry at my wedding or at the birth of my children. But when The Master returned on Doctor Who last year, I got goosebumps, got choked up then cried like a little girl.

9. Today I wore a scarf that my parents first gave me when I was in third or fourth grade.

10. In the nineties, I sold a joke to Playboy.

11. The first time I rode my bike after moving to Chicago, it got stolen. So I bought an old green Raleigh with big old man fenders on it and I stuck a nice nerdy basket on the handlebars. Once I got to SC, I didn't ride it at all and it sat in the basement through floods and then, in our current basementless house, sat behind the fence under a tarp. Now that Emma has a bike, I thought I'd get my back up to speed. I took it to a bike shop. They just shook their heads sadly. I left there discouraged and went to my next scheduled errand, dropping off some items at a thrift shop. I got to the back door to do the drop off and there was an old green bicycle with big old man fenders. I asked if it was for sale and they looked at it and said "How about fifteen bucks?" and I took it straight to the bike shop for new tires and a check up. I picked it up today. It's sweet. Now I need to put my basket on it.

12. The first time I met my wife, she was sitting in the bleachers, looking radiant in the sun. The next time I saw her she had a cold and had to keep blowing her runny nose. But I didn't care. I could still feel the radiance.

13. Sometimes I think about things I did years or decades before and I shudder.

14. I've been keeping a list of every book I've read since 1987.

15. There are twelve pages so far.

16. Here are the first and last books on each page. Den of Thieves by Katherine Stall and Before I Get Old by Dave Marsh. The Columbo Phile by Mark Dawidziak and The Halloween Tree by Ray Bradbury. Mostly Harmless by Douglas Adams and Throat Sprockets by Tim Lucas. And Now For Something Completely Trivial by Kim Howard Johnson and Moby Dick Rehearsed by Orson Welles. Good Benito by Alan Lightman and The Alligator Report by W.P. Kinsella. Sombrero Fallout by Richard Brautigan and A Widow For One Year by John Irving. Singin in the Rain by Peter Wollen and Exploring Space: 1999 by John Kenneth Muir. The Year 2000 by Harry Harrison and Foundation and Empire by Isaac Asimov. Sources of Strength by Jimmy Carter and How to Build A Time Machine by Paul Davies. The Subatomic Monster by Isaac Asimov and The Expectant Father by Armin Brott. The Birth Book by William Sears and Natural Childbirth the Bradley Way by Susan McCutcheon. The Android's Dream by John Scalzi and Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov.

17. Dunkin' Donuts. Not Krispy Kreme.

18. There's still something radiant about my wife.

19. I've never seen American Idol or Survivor.

20. I'm a little sad that my children will not grow up in a world where Star Trek and Gilligan and Brady's and Lost in Space and McHale's Navy and other cultural icons greet them after school.

21. I'm supposed to be uploading photos from the camera and sitting on the couch with my wife right now, so I better finish up.

22. Favorite number is still 42.

23. My dad took me to see Tora Tora Tora when I was a kid. Apparently, I rooted for the Japs.

24. I wish we had some pie in the house. Razzleberry pie from Marie Callendar. Or just a nice cherry pie. Or apple.

25. Sometimes I wish I'd become an astrophysicist. Or a Dunkin' Donuts manager.

Damn It, You've Got To Be Kind

Inspired by a recent post on my High School pal Russ' blog, I'm posting the sort of philosophical worldview I'm trying to implement for myself. It's so easy to get reeled in by the exploding violence around the world and tumultuous economic news that I, for one, can easily find myself living in a cloud of negative thoughts.

So I'm trying to follow some ideas from Kurt Vonnegut's wonderful novel God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater. In it, Vonnegut notes that there is no instruction manual to accompany our arrival here on this planet, but if there were one, this is what he thinks it should say:

“Hello, babies. Welcome to Earth. It’s hot in the summer and cold in the winter. It’s round and wet and crowded. At the outside, babies, you’ve got about a hundred years here. There’s only one rule that I know of, babies — ‘God damn it, you’ve got to be kind.’ ”

So I've been using that to help combat the oppressive negativity and feeling of doom that easily permeates my consciousness. First off, I'm trying hard to be kind. Always and to everyone. And it's not as easy as it sounds. Meanwhile, of course, the Bible could be seen as an instruction manual of sorts, and based on stuff we've been talking about in Sunday school, I'm trying to make sure I see every single person as a child of God and, even more, the very image of God. The only thing I can change is me, the only place I can interact is right here in front of me in my everyday actions here in my town. So I try not to focus on the tanking economy and the evil hatred that explodes internationally. I'm trying to just focus on being kind to everyone and seeing everyone as a child of God. I want to be a light to the world, to live my life as a thank you note to God, and the only way to do it is to see the beauty in everything around me, everything and everyone. Of course, it's darned near impossible and I see myself as mean-spirited and harshly judgmental. But I'm trying, damn it, I'm trying...

Impoverished

It's blog action day.

So I've been thinking about poverty and, to be honest, it's something that's been bugging me for years.

In the Bible, Jesus talked about poverty, like, 90 million times. Jesus talked about abortion, gays, flag burning and other hot button topics exactly zero times.

So why aren't we having a war on poverty? Why isn't every Christian doing what Jesus commanded: give everything you have to the poor.

"Oh," you say, "but Jesus said the poor will always be with you. So, you know, don't worry about the poor and save yourself."

Okay, did you read the whole story? He says it in response to Judas (of all people) giving Mary Magdalene a hard time for buying some oil to pour on J's feet in those last days. And Jesus, in effect, says, "Look, you'll have your whole life to help the poor. But I'm only going to be here for a couple more days. So chill out, Judas."

So why do we spend so much time trying to proof-text hot button issues and find excuses to get around Jesus' ideas about helping the poor and loving everyone and turning the other cheek and forgiving your enemies and all those other hard things he asked us to do?

Oh yeah -- because they're hard to do.

Or am I reading a different Bible than everyone else?

Sneak Preview

Our church publishes short pieces on the cover of our weekly bulletin. I wrote a couple a few years back. I was asked to write a new one to go in the bulletin sometime this November relating to our stewardship campaign. I was inspired and went ahead and wrote it now rather than, as is more typical for me, waiting until late October.

So here it is.


Feeding the Five Thousand


Let me make this one thing perfectly clear: it’s not just about the donuts.

Sure, the donuts are a nice bonus. I mean, last summer, we got donuts after every service. Kind of makes it even more fun to go to church, you know? And we still get donuts every few weeks when new members join our growing church family. So there certainly continue to be numerous opportunities for donuts. And, hey, what could be better than donuts?

Well, there’s also coffee.

And while there’s nothing all that miraculous about donuts and coffee (although together they are a mighty powerful team) and I’m certainly not going to suggest that any kind of transubstantiation occurs when you eat a fried ring of dough covered in powdered sugar, there does remain a certain sense of something special that does occur in their presence.

Let me try to explain.

In the story, Jesus takes five loaves and two fish, looks to heaven, blesses and breaks the loaves, then divides the fish and, when the disciples set them before the gathered crowd of five thousand men (not to mention any additional women or children), all ate and were satisfied.

All of them ate.

We aren’t given an explanation. We don’t get a Sorcerer’s Apprentice style scene in which the loaves and fish start rapidly multiplying and walking themselves through the crowd uncontrolled. We’re simply told that all ate, that all were satisfied and that, most miraculously of all, there were leftovers.

A character in a novel I once read, an Episcopal priest experiencing a crisis of faith, thought that maybe the way the story really happened was that it was as though there were only five loaves and two fishes. The miracle was that the people shared what they had with strangers.

And isn’t that exactly what Jesus repeatedly calls us to do?

Now I could recite the familiar litany of the amazing depth and breadth of mission work our church supports. I could line item the educational, ministerial and charitable opportunities that made our sanctuary burst at the seams. I could give you a spreadsheet that tells you where all the money goes. I could share my testimony of the tremendous difference Westminster Presbyterian Church continues to make in the lives of my whole family.

But all I really want to say is that when we gather together, whether it’s at a worship service, a church supper, a small group meeting or, yes, just a bunch of folks chatting around a table of coffee and donuts, we make a difference. A huge difference, not just in our own lives, but in the lives of people across the upstate and across the world.

So when I drop my envelope into the collection plate, I’m not just doing it for the donuts. I’m doing it to feed the five thousand – and more – people who come away satisfied from Westminster Presbyterian Church.