Simms and 6th

        So, the girls wanted to go to the Butterfly Pavilion today. Sometimes that's the day we have, they wish to revisit places they haunted when they were smaller. In addition to the Pavilion there is the Museum of Nature and Science, The Aquarium and Stinky Beach (whose Christian name is Bear Creek Lake Park). After the Pavilion it was off to Bonnie Brae for lunch. Genoa will ask by saying "What is the place you guys went to when you decided my name?" She knows it's Bonnie Brae, but it's more fun to invoke the connection to her arrival on the planet.
      On the way home, we were at the onramp at Simms and 6th Ave. There was a young man on the left hand side, a lane over from where we were. To me he looked 17, his eyes were wild and he was dressed like he was going to a job interview. His face was distraught, and as we passed I realized he was crying. There was desperation coming off of the poor boy in waves. The flow of traffic prohibited me from slowing, and I was too far over to have done anything, anyway. But all three of us fell silent, and Genoa popped up from the backseat and said "Oh, Honey. If I had my car I would stop and take him to Denny's and buy him food and ask him to talk to me."
     We continued home, in silence, Genoa's eyes wild. When we pulled into the driveway, I turned to her and said "Here's $20.00. I know you want to go back. Don't let him in the car, you don't know the situation is and you really can't trust anybody. But if he'll walk across the street you can meet him at Denny's. Call me when you get there."
     She jumped into her car and took off.
     She texted and called me, also called her sister, and when she got home I got the full story.
     She had to circle three times to talk to him, people kept honking and he wouldn't go to Denny's because someone was picking him up in a few minutes.
     He is 19 years old, just got out of culinary school. His parents threw him out when they found out he got a girl pregnant. He has a one and half year old son. His girlfriend left him recently, and he's out of money. He has a job that starts in 3 weeks. A friend of his girlfriend is watching the baby so he can stand on the corner, something he just started within the last day or two , and on the weekend he applies for jobs. The friend is also helping him keep the apartment as well as acting as nanny. He cried the whole time she talked to him, insisting that he's not a bad person. He was hanging on until about a week ago and he just has to make it three weeks until the job starts.
     Genoa is one of two people who stopped, and the other one gave him change from his cupholder. He had several people yell names at him, and one actually threw something at him and called him a loser. He thanked Genoa profusely for the $20 and she said she'd go get him some groceries and bring them back, but he said his friend was returning soon.
    He insisted on hugging her, causing the guy behind her to honk and flip her off because the light had turned green.
    How's that for a sad and profound snapshot of our society?

      ...and make no mistake, I'm crazy proud. She comes by this behavior honestly.
     

Awards and Cyndi Lauper

 If I had a Fashion Blog...

Eric, Me and Jim at the Bobby G awards. I would like to point out that my pants, while made to be uber-large elephant pants, are falling off of my body because I lost 13 pounds. Which makes them just look like a sad puddle instead of a hip stylin' kind of arrangement. The top I purchased that day at Charlotte Russe for $10.00, the sparkle jacket is ten years old from a consignment shop.The scarf, from the set of Legally Blonde, one we bought for the department store, and the leather bag from Italy, given to Genoa by her grandparents. You cannot see the rockin' orange 1970's wedges, which is a damned shame, because they are awesome. Jim intentionally wore this western cut shirt because he thinks he's funny. Eric is clearly the fashionable one of the three, he looks like he's the host of some sort of Makeover Show and we are the sad sacks he talked off of the fashion/house/restaurant ledge.

 If I had a teacher blog...

This is me and my student as he accepts his Special Achievement Award at the Bobby G's  (The "Tony Awards for High School Musicals")at the DCPA. His commitment to taking care of both dogs on Legally Blonde was impressive, particularly cosidering the wealth of talent he possesses. He easily could have simply not auditioned and walked away. But no, his college auditions interfered with the final show, but not enough to keep him completely away. His application for a job he was ultimately creating for himself was an 8X10 of a chihuahua, handed to me wordlessly.

 

 

 However I do not have a fashion blog, or a teacher blog,

I have a hot Melted Crayon Mess Blog of past lives crashing in on this life and severe moments of self doubt and a desire to explain Who I Was because I misguidedly believe it explains Who I Am, but it doesn't because Who I Am changes moment to moment depending on the needs of those around me or my audience.

     I can hear voices from my senior year of high school.

     My mom, showing family and friends photos from People Magazine (my mom bought a People every week at the grocery store. I was raised on it and Reader's Digest)  of Cyndi Lauper and exclaiming "If you didn't know any better, you'd think that was kryssi, wouldn't you?" At the time I did not wish to resemble anyone, because I Was An Individual, so I Poo Poo'd it and snorted loudly, but now, when I look back at the photo I'm like...daaayyuummm, I looked like Cyndi Lauper.

    One of my teachers, whose name and subject taught I have unforgivably forgotten, going around the room and asking the seniors that Age Old Question: What Are You Going To Do With Your Life?

    I had no freaking idea. My theatre teacher had scared me out of trying to go to  New York, so I figured I'd maybe be a language arts teacher? A strange look crossed my teacher's face, and she surveyed the room, as if looking for support of her next statement. "Really?" she said, sounding both surprised and disappointed. "I thought for sure you'd be the next Cyndi Lauper, or Bette Midler." I remember being shocked that she would say that because, whatever class it was, I was not successful in it at all. So why would she think I'd do anything successful? I also do not recall ever speaking or participating in that class, I didn't know she was aware of my existence. And lastly, she was old, how did she know who Cyndi Lauper was?

 

   And then there's the voice of Mr. S ____, my math teacher, who flat out said "What are you, stupid?" 

    It turns out I'm not stupid, but I am dyslexic. I didn't find that out until college. Certainly that's information I could have used earlier in my life.

    While that seems like a non-sequitor to you, it makes perfect sense to me. On the heels of every "You could be somebody" statement is another voice telling me I'm stupid.

------

      So, Awards are what is dragging this up. The Bobby G's, then the Tony's. I really hate awards, I watch the Tony's to see the performances. Which, may I say, the last two years have been Lame Sauce, what is with all the freaking revivals? And seriously, Phantom has been around for 25 years and they've changed nothing? I texted my sister to see if she was watching and she replied "Blah blah blah gay boys. Blah blah blah statue. Blah blah dance dance. Blah blah talk talk." Which was fabulous, so I replied "Blah blah blah seen it blah blah oh lame intro concept blah blah thank you Edward Albee blah blah blah seen it." Which sums up the evening nicely.

 

    Anyway, in spite of myself I find myself occasionally rooting for someone to win, and this year it was Harvey Fierstein and Cyndi Lauper and Kinky Boots. Not just because Annaleigh Ashford (who is in Kinky Boots) is from Colorado, but because I happen to love Harvey and was just thrilled to see Cyndi. The last time I saw her she was doing "Elmocize" on Sesame Street. She's always been my secret sister. She has no idea of course, that's the "secret" part.

     Theatre is a beast, a living, breathing beast. No two audiences see the same show. No two shows are "alike"---although I'm not the only one who watched Matilda perform last night and thought it was actually Spring Awakening Junior: The Middle School Version.

     You cannot put a powerhouse classic like Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf  in the same category as A Trip to Bountiful. They are completely different shows! Which is why I hate awards. Too subjective. Look at the musical category! Matilda and Kinky Boots in the same category? How is that possible?

      Well, the Bobby G's did it, they follow the Tony format. They put Legally Blonde in the same category as Les Miserables. Just because a show is a musical doesn't mean they are all the same, any more than straight shows are all the same. And I know there are those who protest to phrasing plays as "straight" shows, because that suggests that musicals are gay,but I say own it, musicals are gay.

      So then I start to ponder the purpose of the awards. The Tony's are clearly about the community, it's the one night everybody gets to see everybody else 'cause they're all working. Which is AWESOME. The acceptances are very different than any other awards, they are clearly grateful but also know it's subjective, and everyone graciously ackowledges everyone else in the category as a peer, not competition.    

      That is not something I experienced at the Bobby G's The Tony Awards For High School Musicals, unfortunately. There were a few kids from other schools  who were a bit snarky to our kids. Which was disappointing, but only reinforced my feeling that we were out of place at the ball, just like Cinderella, and everyone knew it. One of the other kids openly mocked Legally Blonde suggesting it wasn't even a real musical. (The joke is on this kid, I know their director and they're doing Legally Blonde next year.)

      My kids were so excited to see the other performances, and so willing to talk to everyone else there and be Theatre Geeks together, and they were sooooo sad when someone threw them a dirty look or snarky comment. If the Bobby G's wants to be more like the Tony's, then they'll have to not invite snarky teenagers to attend. HA. That's funny. 'cause it's an award for high school musicals...heh heh.

      So, in conclusion, all in all, to sum up: kryssi's name is spelled like Cyndi's, they share a hair history, Awards Are Stupid and the Bobby G's are not at all like the Tony's.
         Thank you.

Ten Nominations and a Funeral

  2017
   So, my weekend in a nutshell is in the title line.
     LHS' Legally Blonde was in fact nominated for ten Bobby G Awards.
     We went home with two.
     There is little I can say that won't sound like sour grapes. The whole thing was well produced, the kids had fabulous time and high school theatre represented.
      HOWEVER, as a high school awards event, I have to say that IF you hired a pro to do your design or choreography, you should not allow that pro---who is a trained adult---to accept the award.    
      First, the pro should not have been nominated unless everyone else in the category was also an adult. Nominating a kid's light design alongside a professional's is just ludicrous. There's that.
      BUT, since that is being allowed to happen, I would say secondly that said adult should not schlep up onto the stage and accept the award. I am hopeful that the adult designer had a student designer, student assistant, Student Something whom they taught as they went, and said student oversaw the set build or light hang and focus. And that is who should be on stage accepting an award with their name on it. The student.
      That is all I have to say about that.

       This weekend in Denver there was a chalk festival, Comic Con and the People's Fair. I taught on Saturday after dosing Genoa who was battling a nasty influenza, and we went to a funeral in Colorado Springs on Sunday. I attended none of the listed events in Denver.
       My dad and my Uncle Bob came to the funeral together. It occurred to me, as I watched them walk into the massive church, that they have quite a bromance going on in their elder years.
       Dad and Bob have always been friends. Back when Bob and Virginia had the restaurant my dad was there pretty regularly, and he and Bob seem to attend family functions together.
      First, I should remind you (if you're new) who Uncle Bob is.
      Bob Jaramillo, married to my dad's sister Virginia, is Mexican. He is The Mexican I grew up with. His wedding is one of family lore that (allegedly) an alzheimer's addled Aunt stood up in the middle of and said loudly "Who let in all these Mexicans?" He used to threaten to cut off my ears and make tacos out of them and grab knives out of the silverware drawer and say "Mexican Credit Cards". He regularly referred to other Mexicans as "Beaners" and I got myself into much trouble on more than one occasion because I had been raised around him and I thought it was perfectly okay to call Mexicans "Beaners" and white people "Honkey".
       That's Uncle Bob.
       Unlike most people who soften with age, the opposite has happened with Bob, and if given the opportunity he will gleefully add the role of "Dirty Old Man" to his repertoire, and once scared the crap out of a colleague of mine when he realized she was Mexican, and a teacher. This was during intermission of one of the shows, and he asked me "Who's that honey?" I explained that she's a teacher with a master's degree, not a "honey", but before I finished he was hopping down the hallway trying to track her down. I heard later that he did frighten her at first, but she perservered and returned for the remainder of the show unscathed. Bob, on the other hand, wouldn't stop grinning and could not have been more proud of himself for leching on my friend.
        So, we are at the quiet reception following the funeral on Sunday. Bob and my dad are sitting at the table with us. Bob joined us only after he took a tour of the church's cafeteria and upstairs kitchen. You can take the owner out of the restaurant, but you'll never take the restaurant out of the owner.  He sat down and declared that it was one great kitchen and we could throw a heck of a party with it.
        The talk turned to other family. This is where a description of my dad is needed. He always thinks that everyone knows what he is thinking, so when he starts a sentence mid-thought you are expected to know what the hell he's talking about. He will also realize that it's possible more than one person could know what the topic is, but from a different perspective or time period, so he will not actually finish a sentance. It goes like this "Krys did you get the email about Raymond...Karie you know Joyce... Tracy, Ray's wife..he's going to Florida, Ray's wife, Bob did Virginia tell you about Ray?"
      To which Bob responds incredulously "Ray's dead?"
      My dad: "No, his wife died."
      Me: " I didn't get the email." I check my new iPhone for the email. OH, there it is, I ignored it becuase my father likes to forward every forward forward forward joke, photo, joke, joke, Did You Know Captain Kangaroo Earned A Purple Heart, joke, joke, photo, Did You Know Mr. Rogers Was A Marine? joke joke joke...so I tend to delete his emails. Even this one titled "Raymond...Important" got skipped becuase it has seven forward tags on it and I don't know anyone named Raymond.
      But I digress.
      Bob: "Ray's wife died?"
      Dad: "Ya, didn't you get the email?"
      Bob shrugs, the shrug that says "old fart doesn't do technology."
      Dad: "Didn't Virginia tell you? Doesn't your wife talk to you?"
      Bob: "Are you kidding? I could walk in the door next Sunday and she'd look at me and go 'How was the funeral?'"
      Then he got up to find a restroom, while he was passig my dad he pulled his phone out of his pocket and said "I have this. Don't leave without me."
      I looked at my dad and asked if he'd ever left Bob behind, and he just laughed and said "no".
      I have no idea what that exchange was all about. Inside joke I'm guessing, but illogically I laughed at the moment, even though I did not understand it.
      And the final Bob Quote of the day came when my dad asked if Bob or anyone had gone to a graduation ceremony. Bob just looked confused when my dad said the last name Martinez. Then dad said "he graduated from the police academy."
       Bob rolled his eyes and said "That's great, that's all we need, another Beaner with a gun.
       Ladies and Gentlemen, Bob Jaramillo!
       Thank You!