Posts Tagged ‘theater’

So last night I went to the theater with my father.  It was an awesome night-50 One Minute Plays.  And they meant it!  Your emotions went everywhere and it truly demanded of the audience a willing suspension of disbelief, a lot of attention, and an open mind to how the plays were grouped together to create these vignettes of life in Jersey at this moment.  My mom watched the boys and Hubby sadly was working because I know he would have loved the show.

The preshow music was carefully selected and truly set the tone for the 50 one minute plays we were about to watch, but how many of you have had to listen to “I Touch Myself” sitting next to your dear old dad?  There were a number of songs with less than wholesome lyrics, and while neither of us are prudes,  I really could have lived my entire life without hearing “I don’t want anybody else/when I think about you/I touch myself” while talking to my dad about my sons.  This is the plot line to a Greek tragedy.

It is amazing what you can fit into one minute.  Some of the plays were amazingly verbose for only a minute.  Others had no dialogue, just crying or gestures or movements that told the whole story.  Many were raunchy-somehow it’s easier to watch than simply hear “raunchy” with your dad.  I suppose because the audience mode took over.  Some were political, some were theological, some were just plain funny.

If the festival comes near you, do attend it.  It will be different plays than I saw, but I am sure they would be just as full of talent as last night’s theater.

Just promise me you won’t touch yourself.


Check out more info about the festival here:

http://www.passagetheatre.org/ or http://www.oneminuteplayfestival.com/2013/01/16/3rd-annual-nj-ompf/



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I was planning on auditioning for a show in the next week or two, but I am having serious second thoughts.  First, while it would be a fun show, it’s not one that was on my “list” of shows I’d like to do before I die.  I guess one could call it an actor’s bucket list.  I really enjoyed working with the group, so that’s not the issue.  I’ve been looking at the time I would need to spend on the role (presuming I were cast) and as I added it up, I began to think…hmmmm, do I want to do that?  Now?

I would actually have more conflicts than I had thought before thinking to myself that I could easily do a show.  I had remembered the conflict with a wedding I’ll be attending but hadn’t thought of eight or nine or ten other commitments that are not moveable.  That’s almost a dozen conflicts which is about a quarter to a third of the rehearsals.  (Don’t ask me to be more specific, I’m not a math person and I’m really not a fraction person, unless I’m baking and then fractions make sense.)  The other commitments are too important to try to shift or move, but I also do not like being the type who gets a part and then lists a slew of rehearsals I’ll miss.  It happens, I get it, but I don’t like to do it.

Would the person directing the show work around it?  Possibly, probably, maybe.  I don’t really know and that’s not what’s important.  I wouldn’t feel right.  Knowing I had intentionally double-booked myself and forced one or the other to work around my inability to be there would lessen my enjoyment of whichever one I did attend.

Putting all of that aside however, I realize that the main deterrent is the time I wouldn’t get to spend with my family.  Yes I like to indulge my interests and keep myself fresh and excited by doing things I like to do.  But this is the first summer in a decade when we’re not on too many boards (I’m only on one and it doesn’t meet during the summer).  The classes I’m teaching will be over by the end of June, right around the time the boys finish school.

I could feasibly take advantage of the summer hours at work and spend some lazy summer evenings with my family.  I could work on my yard. I could do scrapbooking or beading or sewing or reading or nothing.  Imagine working on my sons’ scrapbooks.  Imagine sitting and having deep conversations about the exoskeleton of cicada with my sons.  Imagine reading a book in one sitting.  Imagine not feeling the pressure of extra, self-inflicted deadlines.  This is the first summer when I don’t have any externally imposed deadlines on my plate.

Do I want to put one on my plate?  Or would that be like putting a big helping of beets on the plate?  I would imagine it could begin to leave a bitter taste in my mouth and I don’t want to do that.  I also feel like hubby should do the next show.  He probably won’t do a show because he always comes up with a reason not to do a show.  But I don’t think I want to do a show.  I think I want to not do stuff that doesn’t have a direct positive impact on my whole family and not just me.  This summer I think I want to be selfish and spend all my spare time with my family.

The boys and I started making the presents for their teachers tonight.  We came up with the idea of giving their teachers a small, hand-painted wooden box personalized with either an initial or a picture of something each teacher likes.  We had a blast working on the boxes tonight.  I want more of that.  I looked at my sons this evening, painting and smiling, and they looked so much older than I expected them to look.  Oldest son doesn’t like me to hug or kiss him in front of people.  Youngest son can’t be too far behind.  At this moment, they still like spending time with me and I’m still relatively cool.  That won’t last and I know it.  It’ll come back another day, but it’s going to change soon and last for quite some time.  While I pray daily for the blessing of a long life, spending time with my sons is always on my bucket list.  Spending time with hubby is always on my bucket list.  I don’t want to take that for granted.  Ever.

At the beginning of this post I had not yet decided the fate of the audition nor did I think I would figure it out today or tomorrow.  And yet I’ve clearly made my decision.  I didn’t go through my normal long and drawn-out process.  Well, there’s one to take off the bucket list.

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Each day offers moments that will become memories.  Some days are more loaded than others.  Today is one of those days.  Last night I raced from class to see the last half of older son’s last ball game of the regular season.  This morning I saw my dad at his induction into the Olde Guard at his alma mater (also my alma mater).  I’m off to “Spring into Poetry” for younger son.  Tonight hubby and I are going to a dinner dance for the theater company with which I played “Vera” in Mame.  But the neatest moment today is that ten years ago my hubby became my hubby.  Ten years filled with laughter, love, tears, loss, happiness, craziness, Addams Family-ness, and the two greatest sons any two parents could ever hope to have.  Happy anniversary to the world’s greatest hubby!

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I’ve had two discussions this week about plots, or more specifically remakes that use the same exact plot and why do we need them in the world?  It’s a fun topic and in the end, every show has been a rerun since the theater of the ancient Greeks.  The roots of every story, play, movie, or television show can be found in Greek theater.

But I still love a good debate so…

For me, plays are meant to be a unique event each time because they are performed live and each performance will have slight variations due to a different audience and another day of life experience for the actors adding new dimensions to the performance, subtle though they may be.  I look at film versions of plays in a similar manner.  Laurence Olivier’s Hamlet is unique from Kenneth Branagh’s Hamlet and from Ethan Hawke’s Hamlet.  (I don’t even consider Mel Gibson’s in the conversation as I did not care for it at all).  Each is approached from the roots of theater yet captured on film.  Each film includes distinct performances by the actors and a distinct interpretation by the director, as well as very intentional scenic and musical choices.  I glean something different from each one.

I think that You’ve Got Mail is a unique film from The Shop Around the Corner, the film that inspired the adaptation.  It also acknowledges the original, gives a tip of the hat if you will, within the film.  The sign on the Fox Bookstore building says “just around the corner” and they make references to mail…letters.  If you know the film The Shop Around the Corner, you’ll pick up on these wink wink, nudge nudge references.  If you don’t, they don’t stick out as out of place.

I don’t understand the need for remakes (I don’t care what you call them) if they only are a remaking of an original film without bringing anything new to the table.  The shot by shot remake of Psycho…why did we need that?  Hitchcock’s is perfect, no need to redo it.  I remembered how perfect on Mother’s Day when Encore Suspense treated us to a 24 hour marathon of it.

Arthur, Nightmare on Elm Street, Halloween, why do we need to remake them when the originals were fabulous?  Give me a new twist at least.  And changing the gender of a character doesn’t count…just changes pronouns.  Scream could have been just another slasher flick in the tradition of the classics that changed the genre in the late 70s and early 80s, but it did something new in acknowledging the pedigree that bore it.  That made it original.

Another recent revamp was made by two of my favorites, Tim Burton and Johnny Depp.  But Willy Wonka will always be visualized in my mind as Gene Wilder in a fabulous purple velvet coat.  I have a brown velvet coat that I call my Willy Wonka coat.  🙂  I will watch Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and embrace it as an individual movie because of my love of Tim and Johnny, but Gene Wilder will always be  Willy Wonka.  Their latest, Dark Shadows, has yet to be seen, so I cannot comment yet.

Are these amazingly fine lines to be drawing in the sand?  Yep.  I wonder though as I reflect if I haven’t noticed a wee bit of a trend.  When a film is adapted from a book or play, I’m far more open to seeing a new version of it.  Perhaps because for me I always approach a film version of a book or play with some skepticism since I’ve already got my own version of it in my mind’s eye.  It don’t expect it to live up to my expectations and so I am sometimes pleasantly surprised.  A remake of a story that was originally intended for film I am less flexible about because if it was written for film, it was intended to be a finite and finished product.  A play is meant to be produced over and over just as a book can be read over and over.

Now some might ask me what I think about The Three Stooges movie.  I’m fine with it-I haven’t seen it yet but my hubby and sons did and they gave it their own Three Stooges approval.  First, it incorporated the concept of short films, another wink wink, nudge nudge example.  Second, even with the original Three Stooges, there were four different groupings of them (Moe and Larry with Curly, Shemp, Joe, or Curly Joe and the original trio was Larry, Moe and Shemp to begin with but without the name Three Stooges).  They were always the same characters but in different short films, a different situation.

In the end, we keep repeating and remaking these stories on stage or screen because we will never finish exploring the human condition and the human existence.  We are egotistical by nature.  We also are a social creature and we feel better after sitting in a dark room together with a bunch of strangers watching ourselves and examining how we handle this thing called life, reruns and all.


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What a difference a day makes.  Also walking away from the problem offers such wonderful perspective.  That and a few friends commenting on fb that they know exactly how I feel.  And chocolate.  I can’t forget the chocolate.

But you know what the best thing I reflected on today was?  I ate supper with my family yet again this week.  We’ve been rocking the dinner time lately.  Doesn’t matter what the dinner is, it’s the time together.  My sons have finally gotten the swing of sharing something fun about their days.  And I’m going to admit it…write on virtual paper…we use the convenience stuff to make dinner.  Yes, there are fresh veggies (asparagus at the moment since it’s in season-though I don’t eat it).  But the main entrée was one of those skillet dinners.  If I didn’t have to work, I’d be cooking home-made stuff.  Ah, well…do the best you can with what you have where you are.  Teddy Roosevelt, not me.  I wish I could write something as pithy as that.

Perspective comes in many ways.  You just have to be open to it coming in and opening your eyes.  Be open to the other side of things and examining the issue with other eyes.  Turn it over and over.  Challenge it, question it.  Pray on it.  Focus on simplicity and grace to rise above the feeling of mediocrity.

So what am I going to be when I grow up?  I have no idea and realized today that part of the reason I feel like I’m floating and looking for my thing is that I refuse to grow up.  I still love learning and have a thirst for new experiences.  If a particular experience, idea, or goal doesn’t materialize, no biggie.  There will be another.

And until another shows itself, I have buckled down and examined what is on my plate and what I can do with it.  How I can do each project.  Why I am doing each project.  I asked myself if I still feel each one is fun.  Theater had become not fun, but when I gave it a whirl this past fall, it was a blast.  Why?  Because I was just an actor.  So I now know I’ll never be on a theater board again.  Takes the fun right out of it.

A very fun project coming up in the summer are the dino digs we’ll be going on for fossil hunting.  I think I may be more excited than the boys.  Older son still wants to find more substantial fossils than what we should find on these digs, but we’ve been talking about the fact that you need to start where you’re at and grow from each experience.  We talked about how he needs to learn how to dig and these three trips will help him do that.

I’m sewing again.  Other than Halloween costumes, I haven’t done that for a while.  It’s a costume for a friend who is going to a film-fan convention.  So far it seems to be going well.  I enjoyed making the patterns and they are working nicely.  We’re having a fitting this Saturday.

Of course, I’m in VBS prep mode.  We’re going to Babylon this year.  Oh yes, there will be a hanging garden.  I’ve been working on that for the past month.

Prayer, meditation, studying my Shakespeare and Grimm, reading some Uncle Stevie, it’s all good.  Just need to get off my arse and work out the issues in my legs.  This week’s been a less than stellar week, but it is still so much better than it had been for the past few years.

And it’s almost summer.  Now I do not do the beach thing.  There is sand at a beach and I don’t do sand.  We will go to the lake, and yes, there is sand there, but it’s not overly crowded.  There are pools we’ll go to and the boys will do a lot of swimming.  Maybe they’ll teach their mom.

I do attempt the garden thing, but have been horrible with it the past few years.  However, sons and I have already weeded and cleaned out two of them and are working on a third.  But I really need to trim the bloody holly trees.  They are a mess again.

What most of these have in common are my family.  Which reminded me that I’m not doing that bad if we’re doing all these somethings and even some days of nothings together.

Salieri, if only you had known to step away.  To reflect and take inventory.  To count your blessings.  And to not take it all so seriously.

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During the fifth course, I would be quite full but I would persevere, for Kenneth’s sake.  The conversation would weave its way to Hamlet.  Not that I could ever cover this subject in a lunch or even a life time.  I humbly study this work of theater and will never even scratch the surface.  But we would focus on a specific scene.  Act III scene iv.  This scene from Kenneth Branagh’s Hamlet makes me weep even when I simply think about it.

Hamlet Act III scene iv

(I am hopeful that I have successfully embedded the scene courtesy of tediousoldfools’ upload.  I adore tediousoldfools and all the wonderful uploads that I enjoy during the rare lunch breaks that I take.  I pop on a little Shakespeare & Kenny and my day becomes brighter.  So thank you to tediousoldfools.)

But the scene is the point of tonight’s blog.  Last night I treated myself to watching the movie again.    Once the ghost appears, Hamlet completely reverts to a small boy trying to please his father.  The fact that he just killed someone completely disappears as he looks at this ghost.  I love the voice of the ghost…his whispers are horrifying and filled with love at the same time.  He says to Hamlet,

“But, look, amazement on thy mother sits:
O, step between her and her fighting soul:
Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works:
Speak to her, Hamlet.”

And he immediately obeys.  This is a moment of tenderness and concern between Hamlet and Gertrude, one that for me seems to be sincere concern from her.  As he says “On him…on him” he simply becomes filled with sadness, respect, and longing for his father.  Kenneth’s face changes and the tears well up as he struggles to please his father all the while trying to grasp that his mother doesn’t see the ghost.  The levels of emotion that course through his being in these two minutes of film are outstanding.

The scene makes me feel the wonder of what it would be like to see someone that you loved one more time.  It makes me think about unresolved matters and the desire to set things right within a family.  I think that Hamlet stands the test of time because every family has betrayal within it.  Hopefully not as horrific of a betrayal as in Hamlet, but on some level everyone deals with betrayal and a destruction of trust.  And as in this story, not everyone gets a chance to resolve things before being separated by death.  In some cases, a person may choose to separate from a particular person because of a betrayal of trust and this perhaps helps to avoid it ending the same way Hamlet does.  Bloodshed seems to be never ending in this group.

But in this scene, you just see a boy missing his dad.  Wishing for more time.  Hoping to please him one more time.  To defend his honor.  To gaze on him, on him one more time.

In case you’d enjoy reading it, here is the text of the scene:

Shakespeare’s Hamlet Act III scene iv


A king of shreds and patches—(Enter Ghost.)

Save me, and hover o’er me with your wings,
You heavenly guards! What would your gracious figure?


Alas, he’s mad!


Do you not come your tardy son to chide,
That, lapsed in time and passion, lets go by
The important acting of your dread command? O, say!


Do not forget: this visitation
Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose.
But, look, amazement on thy mother sits:
O, step between her and her fighting soul:
Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works:
Speak to her, Hamlet.


How is it with you, lady?


Alas, how is’t with you,
That you do bend your eye on vacancy
And with the incorporal air do hold discourse?
Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep;
And, as the sleeping soldiers in the alarm,
Your bedded hair, like life in excrements,
Starts up, and stands on end. O gentle son,
Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper
Sprinkle cool patience. Whereon do you look?


On him, on him! Look you, how pale he glares!
His form and cause conjoined, preaching to stones,
Would make them capable. Do not look upon me;
Lest with this piteous action you convert
My stern effects: then what I have to do
Will want true colour; tears perchance for blood.


To whom do you speak this?


Do you see nothing there?


Nothing at all; yet all that is I see.


Nor did you nothing hear?


No, nothing but ourselves.


Why, look you there! look, how it steals away!
My father, in his habit as he lived!
Look, where he goes, even now, out at the portal! (Exit Ghost.)

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Have you ever noticed that some actors are terrible at phone acting?  They are supposed to be on the phone and they have a blank look on their faces and it seems as if they are counting sheep until they say their next line.  I hate that.  You don’t sit on the phone with a blank look on your face.  You are reacting as you do when talking face to face.  In general, sit-com actors are terrible at phone acting–not all, but most.  Some film actors do it well.  Dustin Hoffman.  He can pull off phone acting.  Meryl Streep.  My dear Kenneth Branagh.  Julia Roberts on occasion.  When an actor is bad at it, it completely breaks the suspension of disbelief for the audience.  It smacks you back into reality and you realize there is no one else on the other line.  How hard is it to be engaged in a conversation?  Imagine what the lines would be if the other character were on the other end of the line.  It’s not that difficult.  Think about when you are on the phone.  You gesture, you make faces, you multi-task and do other things.  Community theater actors are typically not good at this, I am sad to say.  This should be required in all acting classes as far as I am concerned.  That’s just my opinion.

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What a wonderful time of year to introduce your sons to Poe.  Tonight my sons and I enjoyed reading “The Masque of the Red Death”, “The Haunted Palace”, and “The Raven”.  As my sons are only six and eight, we obviously discussed the Red Death paragraph by paragraph, even sentence by sentence, to assist with comprehension.  Still, I knew they’d be interested.  Gothic literature, plague, grand settings, a wonderfully macabre story of elite party guests being trapped and killed by a wicked disease that kills in thirty minutes.  What boy wouldn’t love this story?

I love that my sons are comfortable enough to ask about what they don’t know.  Very William Shatner of them.  They were quite opinionated about the Red Death.  My oldest commented how stupid they were to think that by simply locking themselves away wouldn’t protect them from germs since germs aren’t stopped by a locked door.  With “The Raven”, to be truthful, they got tired of the bird saying “Nevermore”, which reminded me of Bart Simpson’s “eat my shorts”.

“The Haunted Palace” is very sad.  The images of the ghosts floating around, the tattered memories.  The most fun part for me was to get my sons engaged in one of my favorite authors.  The detail in the descriptions and narratives are stunning and create such images for the reader to embrace.  The descriptions of the seven rooms of the apartment in Red Death are exquisite.  To help my sons relate to it, we counted the rooms on our second floor (seven) but imagined each room was as big as our entire second floor.  It helped them to visualize how massive the structure was.  As we read about each room and the colors, we looked around at similar colors in our home.  To capture the picture of the stained glass window, we looked at the small stained glass panel hanging in our living room window and imagined how it would appear with flames shining behind it.

Many people would think that eight and six-year-old boys aren’t ready for Poe, or Hamlet, which they’ve already been introduced to.  The same goes for The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.  We use different ways to help them connect to it and that includes film.  Particularly for Hamlet, as play are to be seen.  Each story is creepy and connects to our sons.  And, why not?  Life is too short to wait to learn about these awesome stories.

Anyhoo (to quote our eldest’s favorite colloquialism) I must away.  Till tomorrow.  Pleasant dreams of the Red Masque…

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Here I am back to reality.  The show is over…Mame was a blast and I miss it terribly already.  The fun part though is that my sons are doing bits from the show every day-walking like Ito, writing in their notepads like Gooch, and singing “Bosom Buddies”, although they only know a few of the lyrics.  They simply repeat those lines over and over.

My sons, as I may have written already, did a wonderful job with the Halloween decorations (yes, I will take pictures tomorrow).  We’re going to the fabric store tomorrow to get the supplies for their costumes.  I’ll drag out the sewing machine and whip up a clown costume and a Headless Horseman cape.  The boys declared this evening that they want to trick or treat with their friends, not Daddy and me.  Whoa, slow down on the growing up stuff!  The compromise will be they can go with their friends while one of us trails behind, one house back, to give them their independence.

Many moons ago I wrote about rediscovering my audacity.  That is still a quest and I am still making progress.  Our little family has a number of our own rules, guidelines, if you will.  Our own way of doing things and that’s perfectly fine by me.  Embracing that each day takes some effort, but when I am self-aware, it happens.  As I work on being my audacious self, I am also working on developing that sense in my sons.  And in my house, which has suffered at the hands of Mame.

But never fear…yard sale weekend is here.  I told the boys simply not to look at the toys I’ll be hauling out because they haven’t asked for them in six months.  I promised them none of the important ones were going on the block.  As their faces showed scenes of Toy Story playing in their mind’s eyes, I reminded them even Andy outgrew his toys.  I also told them they would still have the thousands of toys on the floors to entertain them (yes, probably literally thousands if you count each Lego individually).  Purging the unneeded items out of my attic and shed and backyard, oh my.

And the funniest thing happened today.  I had been in tense, psycho-mode (just ask my hubby) and then work provided me with a feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment that it had not done in a while.  As usual the details aren’t dreadfully important, but to sum up, I rock at physics.  Sure, I know nothing about the field of physics other than an apple fell on Newton’s head, but physics was fun tonight.  I felt energized when I got home.  We then had our late supper, together, the four of us.  Then the boys and I went over their homework, dinosaurs were played with, fervent debates took place about who likes paleontology more, teeth were brushed, and blankets were tucked.  I still had energy and did some grading, laundry, and cleaning.  Even replaced the light bulb in the bathroom.  Good times, good times.

Finally, here I sit washed over with a feeling of calmness.  Simplicity has been around even amidst the chaos of the past few months.  Grace has been my friend as I’ve needed it.  Okay, I’ve been spazzy about the mess in the house, but I’m getting better.  I’ve realized that I literally say the same things over and over.  Lately, as I begin to say them again, I stop myself and save the energy.  Perhaps that’s how I managed to do so much tonight.

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It’s at the theater…I’ve been in rehearsals.  Lots of them.  Mame opens tomorrow night.  Actually upon looking at my clock, it opens tonight!  Theater is such a wonderful place, experience, way to live.  I love that as we stand around during rehearsal someone can ask, “Is it Christmas yet?” and the reply of “In about five minutes” makes sense.  If you know the musical Mame, it features among many wonderful songs, “Need a Little Christmas.”

I have two great numbers in the show.  Please understand–I am not boasting that I am necessarily great  performing them, but rather that they are two great numbers to perform.  “Bosom Buddies” and, my favorite, “Man in the Moon” are very funny songs.  I have truly enjoyed working to perform these songs to even the smallest percentage of ability with which Bea Arthur naturally performed these songs when she originated the role.  Vera is the type of role where one can almost selfishly not care if the audience finds it funny because it’s just so bloody fun to perform!  Obviously, I do hope the audience enjoys it because as all actors know, if there is no audience, there is no show.  Fortunately, one person counts as an audience.  I’ve played to some small houses in my day.  However, I know there will be at least five people there at opening night.  My hubby and sons will be there watching the show with my folks.  I don’t think my folks have ever missed a show that I’ve been in, except for the time I was doing children’s theater.  They couldn’t get into the schools.  I do think they saw the dinosaur play at the state museum.  (Wow, if only I had known I would one day have a son who planned on being a paleontologist, I would have filmed that show!)

There is a smell in a theater that many would probably find unfriendly, but I simply love it.  It’s the stink of all the previous shows.  It sounds less than pleasant, but I love it.  I’ve said it before (possibly in an earlier post even) and I’ll say it again.  Theater is a place where you wear random clothes that you don’t know the origin of, share make-up without fear of cooties, and throw modesty right out the window because you only have a minute for the costume change so it doesn’t matter how many people backstage see you in your undergarments.  During a show, everyone has got your back.  We all check for skirts tucked into pantyhose, smudges on faces, and props being in the correct spot.  You’ve got each others’ back because you don’t know what could go wrong.  It’s great when it all goes right, and most times it does.  But when it goes wrong, you’ve got to work together so the audience doesn’t know something happened that wasn’t supposed to.   And all of that contributes to the smell.

The lyrics may be corny to some, but there is no business like show business.  Would I love to make my living doing this?  Of course.  Do I?  Nope.  But in whatever way I can, I will keep theater in my life.  Wow, that may be the corniest sentence I’ve written since junior high school.  Corny, but true.

Still, that’s not the only thing going on in my life.  My third grader and first grader have started off their school years with flair.  My oldest is quite excited to be in the “fast paced” math class (even though he always said he was bad at math).  My youngest was writing down all the words he knows how to spell.  I suggested “evil”.  He said, with perfect timing, “What about macabre instead?”  Oh, my six year old…he’s a hoot.

My hubby just celebrated his birthday on Wednesday though we had a double surprise birthday party for my mother and him a couple of weeks ago.  Now he’s Miner 49er plus 1-hee hee.

Still, the time is late and I must away.  So I leave you with this…


The butcher, the baker, the grocer, the clerk

Are secretly unhappy men because

The butcher, the baker, the grocer, the clerk

Get paid for what they do but no applause

They’d gladly bid their dreary jobs goodbye

For anything theatrical, and why?


There’s no business like show business

Like no business I know

Everything about it is appealing

Everything the traffic will allow

Nowhere could you get that happy feeling

When you are stealing that extra bow


There’s no people like show people

They smile when they are low

Even with a turkey that you know will fold

You may be stranded out in the cold

Still you wouldn’t ‘change for a sack of gold

Let’s go on with the show


The costumes, the scenery, the make-up, the props

The audience that lifts you when you’re down

The headaches, the heartaches, the backaches, the flops

The sheriff who escorts you out of town

The opening when your heart beats like a drum

The closing when the customers won’t come


There’s no business like show business

Like no business I know

You get word before the show has started

That your favorite uncle died at dawn

Top of that, your ma and pa have parted

You’re broken-hearted, but you go on


There’s no people like show people

They don’t run out of dough

Angels come from everywhere with lots of jack

And when you lose it there’s no attack

Where could you get money that you don’t give back

Let’s go on with the show


The cowboys, the tumblers, the wrestlers, the clowns

The roustabouts that move the show at dawn

The music, the spotlight, the people, the towns

Your baggage with the labels pasted on

The sawdust and the horses and the smell (there’s that smell again–see I didn’t make it up-it’s real)

The towel you’ve taken from the last hotel


There’s no business like show business

Like no business I know

Traveling through the country will be thrilling

Standing out in front on opening nights

Smiling as you watch the theater filling

And there’s your billing out there in lights


There’s no people like show people

They smile when they are low

Yesterday they told you you would not go far

That night you open and there you are

Next day on your dressing room they’ve hung a star

Let’s go on with the show

Let’s go on with the show




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