Gasp!

Grief and a Writer's Block

At the end of August, my Father was diagnosed with incurable liver cancer. On November 2nd, he died.

I haven't been able to write anything since.

Oh, I've written reviews and snippets of news stories. I've rewritten ten pages of a novel, but I can't bring myself to focus. Everything is dormant now.

My resistance is based on the idea that to continue on with life would be disrespectful to my Father. But it is a block that makes no sense. He put me through college, bought me a Writer's Market before I moved to New York City. Every time I spoke with him, he'd ask, "Have you submitted your work lately?"

Continuing to write would honor him. Yet, I can't do it.

"Making stories up" in any form - plays or books - requires writers to pull the lid off their emotional lives. I am forced to feel things that, in reality, don't exist. Maybe the extra emotional baggage is too heavy right now.

When I found out that he had cancer, I made a promise to myself and him that I would be present for him. All of me, including my emotional life. Subconsciously, I knew my time with him was limited. Each conversation, including the last one, needed to be remembered.

In his final days, I imagined what it would be like to be him. How would I feel about my life? What would I remember? What was important? Would I have a sense that I was going somewhere? Would anyone be there to comfort me?

At the end, what would I have to say about my life?

I don't know.

I aged more from his death than from any other event in my life. In the meantime, I try to provide comfort for my Mother, who is suddenly interested in talking about the details of own death; where she will be buried and how. She's not that old, I say to myself. I'm not that old. Still, I notice wrinkles on my face, or how easy it is for my Mother to fall asleep in her reclining chair. Just like her Mother before her.

"I'm her now," my Mother says. "I just didn't think it would happen so soon."

For me, writing has been a refuge, a safe way to release words that needed to see light. Words are energy. Creation matters.

My Father is dead, and I've been afraid to tell you how that feels.

Where is Dominick Brascia?

Dominick Brascia used to be the afternoon talk show host on Birmingham's 960 WERC. His thick New York accent reminded me of my friend Sal, who used to live in Little Italy. Dominick was conservative, but his sense of humor outweighed his politics. Even people who disagreed with him couldn't help liking the guy.

I loved listening when he talked about his days in Hollywood. He had bit parts on shows like, "Night Court," "Knight Rider," and "Friday the 13th: A New Beginning."  The first time I heard his show, he had Johnny V, Scott Baio's wingman, and I laughed until I cried.

Why do I feel like I'm writing an obit? Because WERC took Brascia off the airwaves and put Glenn Beck in his place. As if Beck doesn't have enough coverage.

No one knows why Brascia's gone, but I hope he finds his way back to the local airwaves.

Hanging out with a Wolf Spider

 

A view of a Wolf Spider hanging out on our bathroom window in Alabama. I estimated that it was about one to one and a half inches long.

Oh, and it was on the *outside* part of the window.  

Imagicon this weekend in Birmingham

If you are going to Imagicon, the science fiction/fantasy convention in Birmingham this weekend, be sure to wear clothes. According to the Imagicon 2009 program, convention rules clearly state:

"Costumers please remember that no costume is NO costume, and there are public nudity laws in Alabama. Please wear appropriate costumes in the common areas."

I'm fairly certain I'll be there. The line-up, which includes authors, workshops, and screenings piques my interest. Their mighty cool line-up also includes discussions on "Common Sense Ghost-Hunting" and "Creating Villains." It also appears that there will be professional wrestling there as well, though I'm still trying to figure out if that's real or not. (The event, not professional wrestling.)

The event begins today and lasts through the weekend. It will be held at the Birmingham Jefferson Convention Complex (BJCC), 2100 Richard Arrington Jr. Blvd. More information can be found on their website.

Alabama nonprofit foundations suffering

The Birmingham News gives front page coverage today to how Alabama nonprofit foundations are dealing with the recession. Some of the stats mid-way through the article will be of interest to those of you who need things quantified.

No arts organizations are mentioned, though you have to wonder what will happen if Alabama Power Foundation cuts a few million from their grant funding. Clearly this is something to keep an eye on.

Mountain Brook's Jonathan Benton Bookseller going out of business

The Birmingham News has the full story.

I'm sad. They blame the economy and online retailers, but I wonder how much the library plays a part in it.

Library usage up around the country, funding on the decrease

Amanda Bonner from the Hoover Public Library has an article in the Hoover edition of today's Birmingham News persuading people to make good use of their local library. "Many of you, just like me, are probably looking for ways to cut back on spending. A library card is your ticket," she tells readers.

Many people around the country have the same train of thought. The public library is the place to go during difficult economic times. In the last month alone, countless newspapers around the country have reported the same thing. Library usage is up, way up.

Vestavia Hills Public Library and Lynyrd Skynyrd

In today's Birmingham News, William Singleton writes about a book controversy at the Vestavia Hills Public Library. A patron complained that the book, "The Seventies: the Great Shift in American Culture, Society and Politics" by Bruce J. Schulman cast Lynyrd Skynyrd as neo-conservative and racist. The article gives a fabulous glimpse at how one library handles this type of complaint. Keep in mind that other libraries throughout the country may handle the situation differently.

Pictures of Snow in Alabama

The Alabama state flower, Camellia, covered in snow. 

More Camellias in snow. 

A barn in Cullman, Alabama.

31 Days of Marriage

Almost a month has gone by since I last wrote in this space, though Project 1968 is quite active. As I mentioned a while back, it's where I'm spending most of my time. It won't always be that way. Once the 1968 Democratic Convention is finished on that timeline, this blog will become active once again. 

Meanwhile, let's play catch-up:

1) It's my 31st day of being married. As I mentioned last week to one of my favorite booksellers, marriage has changed everything. The reason I waited so long to "undergo the procedure" was out of fear. I believed that wedlock would cause me to sacrifice, compromise and become the type of person I despise. Much to my relief, it hasn't happened. Instead, I've discovered aspects of myself that I didn't know existed. The minister who married us told me that I would become "more myself" as that's what marriage was - a place where you could truly be yourself.

2) Becoming more authentic is frightening. That's universal, isn't it?

3) Since there's no need to impress anyone anymore (as if there ever was), I spend most of my time being very quiet. I do what I want to do when I want to do it. Everything is slower and more meaningful.

4) Marriage is a rite of passage. As such, it brings up issues of mortality. Over the past few weeks, I've begun focusing on books I'd like to write before I die. If that sounds morbid, well, maybe it is. But it comes with the realization that, in the end, it's about meaning. Over the past seven years, I tried to find meaning in the externals. Clearly that didn't work.

5) One of the best things about living in Alabama is that there's enough room and freedom for internal exploration. Many people who live outside the state think of the South (and Alabama in particular) as being a place where everyone is trying to tell you what to believe and who to worship. I haven't found that here. Instead, Alabama is a whole lot like San Francisco. Residents in both places have firm belief systems. They try to live by those beliefs to the best of their ability. Sure, San Francisco and Alabama have shades of intolerance at different ends of the spectrum. Both places are also maligned by people from the rest of the country. They think that if you live in San Francisco, you must be gay or lesbian. If you live in Alabama, you must be a racist. Of course, neither stereotype is true.

The upside of these stereotypes is that it prevents the people who hold them from moving to Alabama. I wouldn't want a bunch of lazy-thinking ignoramuses as neighbors. I would've said the same thing when I lived in San Francisco.

That's all I have to share for now. Isn't that enough to ponder for one blog entry?

Wildlife on Our Front Lawn

Today's version of Wildlife on Our Front Lawn features Fred, the turtle. This courageous and friendly fellow traveled up from the creek, not too far from our house. Our beagle, Molly, barked and barked and barked until we came outside to meet her friend.

Jethro walked him across the lawn and aimed him back toward the creek. Let's hope he doesn't make a u-turn.

A Firefighter States the Obvious

(Visual Icon for the Clueless: ♣ = humor of a smirking variety. Disclaimer: Fires aren't funny. Humorous element: Needing to explain the definition of a "hilltop.")

Kurt Vonnegut trifecta in Whole Foods

Laura's Note: Guest Blogger and fiance Jethro offers his view of last night's date at Whole Foods. Before we begin, I'd like to personally apologize to anyone who looks like Kurt Vonnegut.

Friday night is date night, so naturally we spent it at Whole Foods. Happily, they don't recognize me as the guy who did the tirade on them a while back. Perhaps they were distracted by all the Kurt Vonneguts in their store.

When we first walked in the door there was the guy wearing this T-shirt:

He wasn't a Kurt Vonnegut, but he was as lame as all get-out. I mean, come on, dude. Don't conform? Just what exactly do you think wearing your life philosophy on a T-shirt is?

Then we rounded the corner, and there he was: Kurt Vonnegut! Now I know how all those people who kept seeing Elvis at gas stations felt.

And he kept popping up. Every time you turned around, Kurt Vonnegut!

As we neared the checkout there they were: double Kurt Vonneguts! Brothers, obviously, though I couldn't tell whether they were twins.

We bought our grub and sat down in a booth to eat it. One Kurt Vonnegut got on the pay phone while the other stood around waiting for him.

"I wish we had your camera," I told my sweetie. "It's a shame not to document something like this. Two Kurt Vonneguts, and neither one has a cell phone?"

"I have my camera right here in my purse," she said, and produced it on the table.

The one Kurt Vonnegut was easy to get because he kept loitering around the service desk. The one on the phone was around a corner. Here's the one I could photograph:

I was afraid I'd miss the other Kurt Vonnegut because I figured they'd zip out the entrance where I couldn't get them. After much cajoling, I talked my sweetie into going back into the store to shoot them. Af first she came back empty-handed, but then went back for another try. (I figured a pretty woman could get away with it easier than a middle-aged man in a sport coat.)

While she was gone a third -- yes, a THIRD! -- Kurt Vonnegut walked into the store. I kid you not. There were three Kurt Vonneguts in the Whole Foods at one time. This one had a British accent.

Meanwhile, my sweetie managed to shoot video of the first two Kurt Vonneguts. Maybe you can pause it, they are right at the beginning of this video:

I then talked her into finding the British Kurt Vonnegut. He is at the end of this video, taking a bite of his food:

I've scored the Kurt Vonnegut hat trick. Who would have thought? Maybe he became unstuck in time, times three.

Birmingham Folks...

What's on Second? is having a celebration on Feburary 15th. This note is straight from their email, and I thought I'd pass it along.

If you've never been to the store, it's a vintage playground of ephemera, old toys, magazines and the like. Some of Project 1968's stuff was purchased there.

CELEBRATING BLACK HISTORY AND BLACK CULTURE

Opening Reception
Friday, February 15th 5-9 pm
What’s on Second?
2306 2nd Avenue North

Exhibit 2/15-2/29

Myron Pierre- political art, downtown cityscapes, and impressions of Gee’s Bend Quilts

D. Todd (the portion) – God’s Work and Grace, charming depictions of women’s accoutrements-in the outsider tradition

Special guest:

ANNIE MAE YOUNG - We’re very honored to be celebrating the work of Gees Bend quilter Annie Mae Young. She will be joining us on this evening and will have a group of her quilts for show and sale. She and her work will be on display ONLY on Friday, February 15th. Come by and meet this remarkable artist.

This morning, 4 a.m.

Is it possible to get a decent cup of tea while cowering from tornadoes? This is what it was like in our dark tornado basement this morning.

Yes, there is no picture for quite a while. And keep in mind, I sound slow and stupid because I'm sick.

How to Make an Alabama Snowcream

Jethro and I were so excited by the 3/4 inch of snow outside that we decided to make our first movie. They make something called "snowcreams" here. It requires scraping snow off a jalopy parked in the front yard. Yes, you must have a car parked in the front of your house. Then... Well... Check it out. Jethro explains it for you.

Tornadoes on the Commute

If you've never heard a tornado siren, it's an eerie sound. An hour ago, Jethro and I were leaving work. Sirens were blaring in the background. The dark skies and humid hair gave a foreboding feeling to the ride home.

Last April, during the fierce storms that produced at least one tornado, Jethro and I played "beat the storms." I had a portable TV on my lap so we could track the storms. Jethro sped past other cars who were also speeding to get home. The clouds looked so bizarre that I ended up snapping pictures.

Tonight, we did the same thing - sans portable TV. During inclement weather, Clear Channel hands the airwaves to the local television weather people. They forget they're on the radio as well as the TV, so you have lots of "well, the storm will head over here as you can see..." No, we can't see.

We left work a bit early to dodge one feisty storm. It was tough driving up I-65. The weather people noted that a "bow echo" on the radar indicated a "tornadic vortex" would be reaching us as we headed towards Blount County. They even gave estimated times. Jethro stepped on the gas. "I think we'll beat it by eight minutes. Can you get my camera out of my bag, in case we see anything?"

The sky looked creepy and dark as we past the tornado's projected path. I couldn't see a funnel cloud, but the air pressure became... different. It started to rain hard. A pick-up truck slowed down to park under an underpass. Jethro shook his head. "Oh great. Doesn't he know that the funnel cloud is supposed to pass right over us?"

We kept going. A little while later, the weather people announced that a funnel cloud had been spotted in that underpass area. While there was no evidence of damage - yet - I wondered how the people in the pick-up truck made out. Was it better to keep going, or take the risk and see something amazing?

In case you thought I was getting used to Alabama...

During lunch yesterday, some friends told me that it had been awhile since I complained about the wildlife in Alabama. "You must be adjusting well," they told me. "We haven't heard you talk about mice and spiders."

Cut to: The Farmhouse, Seven Hours Later

While meditating in the front room, my intuition told me to go outside to see what was causing our Beagle, Molly, to bark. I took a few steps out the door, thinking I would see a rabbit or maybe a coyote. Instead, it was a four-foot Cottonmouth snake.

Cut to: Screaming woman

I ran back in the farmhouse, to the bedroom to fetch my gun Jethro. Then I ran back to get the dog, who was teasing the snake. Backing and running towards it, barking.

Cut to: Screaming woman

My voice was hoarse from screaming. I threw branches at Molly and chased her around. Jethro finally comes out with a shovel and yells back at me to get the dog inside. Doing my best Janis Joplin imitation, I yelled for Molly once again. I must've registered three octave levels at the same time. Molly looked at me as if I was being slightly unreasonable in my reaction. She stopped cold. I grabbed her and hustled her inside the house.

Cut to: Snake with mouth wide open. Fangs.

Even I caught sight of it. That thing was the thickest snake I'd ever seen in my life. And of course, I'm now screaming yet again. "Do you need the gun?" Jethro yells back at me to get into the house since he's sick of my screaming.

So I paced inside the house by the front door, waiting for Jethro to get bitten.

Cut to: Clock ticking

In what seemed like forever, I finally saw Jethro carry the limp snake out to the field with the shovel. Later on, we decided that the snake was a cottonmouth, and those snakes, friends, are venomous. It almost made Jethro wish that he grabbed his gun instead of the shovel.

As for me... It almost made me wish I grew a backbone. Maybe it's time to put in for that archery set.

Regarding... (Catching up on emails)

Regarding the Birmingham Lyric Theater: I don’t know how to get a hold of anyone there. I don’t know anything other than what I wrote. For those who do searches on the pictures I took that day, please note that they can’t be republished or used in any fashion without my consent. Though I don’t mind you look at them on my site. If you need to talk about it further, please email me.

Regarding Original Works Publishing: Yes, my play was published by them. So far, I’ve had no complaints. Like with any publishing endeavor, I’d recommend doing extra publicity yourself. (And sorry it took so long to respond to these inquiries. I got a slew of them during the death season.)

Regarding living in the country: Jethro wanted me to clear this up. While we do live in the country, in an old farmhouse, this does not mean we’re living in Mayberry RFD. (Although having left NYC only a few years ago, it does feel like that to me.) We’re a stones throw away from three major cities here in the Southeast and can plan day trips effortlessly.

As well, I should mention that Jethro isn’t a farmer. He’s a journalist/photographer who has spent most of his professional life working in the major media. Just to clarify that.

Regarding living in Alabama: Back in 2003, when I was living in New York City, working in Times Square and very ill, I wanted to live in the country where I could write. I wanted to live cheaply, be close to nature, and not deal with the pressures that were all around me. I wanted to hear birds, smell flowers and deal with people who didn’t care how much money I made in a year.

I have that life now, and I’m very happy.

But What about Crisco?

Uh-oh. Time to get creative.

There's always peanut butter... Oops. Wrong again.

Yes Virginia, There's Good Theater in Alabama

Thanks for asking, Malachy. I saw Terrific New Theatre's production of Boston Marriage by David Mamet.

Snapshot: Terrific New Theatre is celebrating its 21st season this year. I read somewhere that it performs both new plays and plays that have premiered elsewhere. The 99 seat theater is located in the old Dr. Pepper bottling warehouse. Nice ambiance. Ticket price was $17.

Boston Marriage refers to a kind of relationship between two women in the Victorian era. The play features the disintegration of a “Boston Marriage,” along with the relationship between one of the women and her servant. Mamet sprinkled his trademark verbal cadence with stilted Victorian language. Flowery words interspersed with abrupt insults is supposed to be humorous.

In short, I hated the way I was supposed to like the play. It’s Mamet after all. I’m supposed to like him. This play has been performed all over the world. Yet, I found the text annoying. I guess I’m not one of those people who thinks that drama means constant bickering. Conflict doesn’t equal arguments, at least not in my book (or play).

Walking into the theater, I didn’t know what to expect from Birmingham theater. I was completely floored with the quality of this production. The acting was extremely strong. The director created a striking portrait with his blocking choices. Costumes were gorgeous.

The only odd part of the production was the color of the set – a goldenrod yellow floor with matching walls. Stage right featured a bright pink and blue stripe that reminded me of a tie-dyed shirt. It was an odd statement, and throughout the play my fiancé and I wondered what the set color was supposed to imply. It didn’t ruin the experience of the play, however, and I’m enthusiastically looking forward to seeing more work from this theater company.

There are two other things I’d like to mention. The house was about half full, and the audience appeared to enjoy the production. I overheard a discussion behind me that indicated that the members of the audience were well-informed theater-goers. They didn’t work in theater, either. Just ardent fans of the art.

Also, I wish the theater included bios of the actors, director and designer. Instead, Mamet was treated with an extended bio. I wondered if it was a stipulation in the production contract. For some reason, that wouldn’t surprise me.

Coyote, or Why I Might Need a Gun License

I was having a good day on Friday. Taking a break from my editing job, I happened to gaze out the window and saw...

Restoring Birmingham's Lyric Theatre

(Laura's note: 4/7/07: Due to the popularity of this entry and pictures, I have to put this disclaimer. Please do not use my pictures without my permission. It is offically copyrighted material. Email me if you'd like to chat about it. Thanks.)

Also at the Sidewalk Moving Picture Festival, we watched a short documentary called “She’s a Lady”*. The film, which won for Best Alabama Documentary, traces the history of Birmingham’s Lyric Theatre, and efforts to restore it. The theatre opened in 1914. It was quite a hub of activity. Luminaries such as Mae West, Gene Autry, Roy Rogers and the Marx Brothers performed there. When the theatre closed in the late 70s, it was a porn house.

In conjunction with the film, Birmingham Landmarks Inc. decided to open the Lyric for one day so the public could see the theater for themselves. Here are some pictures of what the Lyric looks like right now.

Sidewalk 2006

I spent my weekend screening films at the Sidewalk Moving Picture Festival in Birmingham. The festival attracts filmmakers from around the world. John Sayles was on hand to receive a special award, and to hold a symposium during the weekend. He’s going to use actors from Alabama’s theater community for his next film. Guess that blows the idea that nothing special happens here, huh?