Dr. B's Notes

204 On Getting Older

6/18/2021

One of the things about having knee surgery, as I have had recently, is that it forces you to contemplate the reality that you aren’t as young as you used to be and there are things you used to do which are, if not impossible, at least are not particularly wise to assume are still realistic options.  Like, ladders, as a case in point.  I have no idea how many hours I’ve spent on ladders working in the theatre, but it’s been a lot.  I’ve even had several falls from ladders and other assorted “incidents.”  I will admit they were probably my own fault, and I don’t believe that any permanent damage was done.  (I’ll never know that for certain.) But while I am (more slowly than I would like) rebuilding strength and stamina in my “bad” knee, I find myself being glad that I don’t have to “play” on ladders anymore, as I am much more conscious of the reality of falling and how undesirable that is.  There are other examples, but that’s probably enough.

I find myself surprised that I’ve never done a post specifically related to observations about getting older.  I know I have touched on the subject from time to time, but, apparently, it’s never been the basis of a complete posting.  That being the case, in the light of my recent experiences with symptoms of aging, I thought I’d see what I could come up with.

I think what really precipitated this was that I was watching something on TV a while back and seeing an ad for AARP encouraging folks born in the mid 1960’s to join up right away.  That triggered the idea that you must be getting old when the AARP ads are aimed at people who were being born when you graduated from college.

Of course, the funny thing about getting older is that no one really feels older until they run into one of those “Aging Walls,” like all of a sudden realizing that you can’t do all of the things you used to when you were young (whether you should have been doing them or not).  Oh, well, here’s some of what I came up with.

There was this “sign” I saw a while back which I could easily identify with:

There’s also the fact that you got ONE print from the developer and the negative, requiring the better part of a week if you wanted a copy to share. (The digital age isn’t ALL bad!)

I am forced to admit that this Between Friends really struck home to me:

There are LOTS of signs that you may be getting older, but this list struck me as having some pretty good ones.

Signs you are getting older:

1. You don't hold in your stomach when someone young and attractive enters the room.

2. You can live without sex but not without glasses.

3. You are proud of your lawn mower.

4. Your friend is dating someone half his age, but not breaking the law.

5. You can sing along with elevator music.

6. Someone calls your house at 9 pm, and asks, 'Did I wake you up?

There’s also the fact that every so often you have a “flashback” to your childhood, like this reference in Shoe from a couple of years ago:

Something like that can bring back LOTS of other memories of our past, which may well not be appreciated by “youngsters.”

There ARE other signs of age, of course. The entire concept of getting “high” takes on an entirely different meaning as you age.

I suspect that most of us have things we can look back on from our “younger” years with a certain amount of sneaky pleasure. This is merely one possibility, but probably applies to those who grew up in a more rural environment more than to “city-dwellers.”

I will admit that there ARE some advantages to be an “older.” Chief among them is retirement. Retirement is that phase of life when one can say with some real sense of truth that:

Q. When is a retiree's bedtime?
A. Three hours after he falls asleep on the couch.

Q. How many retirees does it take to change a light bulb?
A. Only one, but it might take all day.

Q. What's the biggest gripe of retirees?
A. There is not enough time to get everything done.

Q. Why don't retirees mind being called senior citizens?
A. The term comes with a 10% discount.

Q. Among retirees what is considered formal attire?
A. Tied shoes.

Q. Why do retirees count pennies?
A. They are the only ones who have the time.

Q. What is the common term for someone who enjoys work and refuses to retire?
A. NUTS!

Q. Why are retirees so slow to clean out the basement, attic or garage?
A. They know that as soon as they do, one of their adult kids will want to store stuff there.

Q. What do retirees call a long lunch?
A. Normal

Q. What is the best way to describe retirement?
A. The never-ending Coffee Break.

Q. What's the biggest advantage of going back to school as a retiree?
A. If you cut classes, no one calls your parents.

Q. Why does a retiree often say he doesn't miss work, but misses the people he used to work with?
A. He is too polite to tell the whole truth.

While I’m glad to have lived as long as I have, I confess that I do, on occasion, wonder how much things have changed for the better. After all,

Are we REALLY that much better off with 37 flavors, 96 vitamins and minerals and “non-caloric” sweeteners all packed in plastic bottles? It’s worth thinking about.

I do have to admit that I have considerable sympathy for this notion of Garfield’s:

Unfortunately, not being a cartoon, I can’t avoid getting older. So, while I may be old, I ain’t dead yet and I still have plans to LLAP.

I’ll be back,

The OLD guy,

Dr. B

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203 Reading and the like…

6/4/2021

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Perhaps what I have missed the most while on a seriously reduced activity schedule as my knee returns to something resembling normalcy, is reading.  Now it is true that I have continued to read some, but it’s been harder and less productive for the past few weeks than has been the case for most of my life.

As I have said before, my mother was a librarian and her father was a Professor of English, which may explain why I have been a heavy reader all of my life.  Even when I was working full-time, going to school for those early classes we all disliked, spending my afternoons in the shop and many evenings in rehearsals, I almost always sat down to read for a while before going to bed.  And I might be reading almost anything, from a popular novel to a scholarly study related to Shakespeare.  I found it much easier to unwind with a book than any other way.

Unfortunately, my favored position to “curl up and read” has included putting my left ankle on my right knee and placing my chosen material in the lap created by doing so.  My recent operation has made this difficult (and somewhat painful) as the force which this exerts on the (newly operated on) left knee has proven to be quite uncomfortable.  Hence, I am stuck trying to find a different position in which to read and the mending/healing process has made even just sitting, for the extended periods of time necessary to satisfy my reading habit, difficult.  As a result, I’ve been going to bed early, not sleeping particularly well and NOT GETTING MY READING IN!

I realize that I have little to complain about, it the grand scheme of things.  I have a wife who dotes on me far more than I could possibly deserve and no serious concerns about access to food, shelter or any of the “needs” of life.  What I consider to be fantastic health care is readily available, and museums, concerts, plays, etc. will be/are in the process of returning so that, once my knee is up to it, I can easily have a more than just satisfactory life in my retirement.  I just miss my reading.  I do get some done, but it’s not enough to be really satisfying!

Anyway, since I’m not reading enough to suit me, I thought I’d do a blog post related to that topic.  So, here’s some of what I found buried in my files of “stuff and junk” which seemed to be at least vaguely related to the subject at hand.

I guess that the first thing I should include is this from Non Sequitur; one of my favorite comic strips.  I find it probably as least as important as anything else I read on a regular basis.  I’ve had this one in the file for a couple of years, but it just might explain how I feel about reading in general:

In a totally different direction, I loaned Maggi one of my videos of Macbeth not long ago, which precipitated some discussion of that play after she and Brian had watched it. I should quickly point out that one of the reasons I was never very enthusiastic about including “the Scottish play” in reading lists for my classes is that I have always found a number of aspects of that script somewhat challenging to understand, in spite of the fact that I was in a production of it when I was an undergraduate.  (With Kevin Kline and Marc Singer also appearing in minor roles.)  As I have gotten a bit older (and read more), I think I have greater insight into the script now than I did 20-30 years ago.  Then, a couple of years ago, I ran across this discussion of “equivocation” which I thought made that entire concept entirely understandable for the first time in my life.  While it’s a minor point, in the “drunken Porter” scene (II, 3), the porter makes a pointed political/religious reference to “…an equivocator that could swear in both the scales against either scale, who committed treason enough for God’s sake yet could not equivocate to heaven.”  This notion of “equivocation” is commonly explained by editors through reference to the idea that outlawed Catholic priests and sympathizers had been given permission by the Church to use equivocal (is this a “circular” definition, or what?) or ambiguous expressions when tortured into giving testimony regarding Catholic activities in England, especially in order to mislead the Protestant authorities who were persecuting the Catholics at the time.  I always found this hard to understand, let alone explain.  Then I ran across this story:

Getting a hairdryer through customs...

A young woman on a flight from Ireland asked the priest beside her, “Father, may I ask a favor of you?”

“Of course, child.  What can I do for you?”

“I bought my mother an expensive hair dryer for her birthday.  It is unopened but well over the customs limits and I'm afraid they'll confiscate it. Is there any way you could carry it through customs for me?  Could you possibly hide it under your robes for me?”

“I would love to help you my dear; but I must warn you, I will not lie!”

“With your honest face, Father, I'm sure no one will question you!”

When they got to customs, she let the priest go first.  The official asked, “Father, do you have anything to declare?”

“From the top of my head down to my waist, I have nothing to declare.”

The official thought this answer a little strange, so he asked, “And what do you have to declare from your waist to the floor?”

“I have a marvelous instrument that has been designed for use on women, but which, to date, remains unused.”

Roaring with laughter, the official said, “Go ahead, Father.”

I think this explains the concept of “equivocation” both precisely and completely.

In further thinking about reading, I was forced to wonder how much easier so many aspects of life might be if people were simply more careful about reading and following instructions.

Case in point:

It makes you stop and think, doesn’t it?

In perusing other miscellaneous stuff in my files, I ran across this listing labelled as “Not so deep thoughts.”  In reexamining them, I am less sure that the label can be seen as highly accurate.

Not So Deep Thoughts

1. The things that come to those who wait may be the things left by those who got there first.

2. A fine is a tax for doing wrong.  A tax is a fine for doing well.

3. When you go into court you are putting yourself in the hands of 12 people that weren't smart enough to get out of jury duty.

4. Light travels faster than sound.  This is why some people appear bright until you hear them speak.

5. It is hard to understand how a cemetery raised its burial cost and blamed it on the cost of living.

6. It is said that if you line up all the cars in the world end to end, someone would be stupid enough to try and pass them.

7. Remember, no matter where you go, there you are.

Just to close things out for this posting, I want to point out that a while ago (December of 2018, I think it was) I ran across an old friend from my distant past when I was something of a “folkie” while I was in high school and college.  He was introduced to us by Peter, Paul and Mary along about 1967 and I had assumed that he had retired long ago.  Needless to say, when I ran across him just hanging around in the Conservatory at Omaha’s Lauritzen Gardens late in 2018, I was a bit surprised, but glad to see an old friend.

One of these days (fairly soon, I hope), my knee will be strong and stable enough that I can actually resume life to a higher degree of normalcy than I’ve yet achieved, and I can do more to catch up on both correspondence and reading. In the meantime, I’ll just keep mining the files for stuff to keep my brain cells occupied and, perhaps, provide a bit of amusement for myself and my readers.

In the meantime, take care of yourself,

LLAP,

Dr. B

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202 English Language & Grammar Humor 2

5/19/2021

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I’m still in recovery from my knee surgery (Yes, some might say that I should have been in recovery most of my life), but I’m not quite as hopeless as I was for the first couple of weeks, so I thought I’d take a swing at a blog post.  Perhaps, one of these days, I’ll have the brainpower to actually get caught up on owed correspondence, etc., but I’m afraid that’s still a way off.

My choice to revisit the foibles of English Grammar and Language was precipitated by running across this first item not long ago.  When I realized that it really wasn’t the pain medication I was on at the time which made it make sense, I was both intrigued and amused.  Perhaps you will be, too.  Let me know….

I cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg.  The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid.  Aoccdrnig to rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn't mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoatnt tihng is taht the first and last ltteer be in the rghit pclae.  The rset can be a taotl mses and you can still raed it wouthit a porbelm.  This is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe.   Amzanig huh?

I am willing to provide a “translation” of the above into “ordinary” English, but I suspect that few would need it.  I confess that it took me by more than a bit of a surprise when I simply read this off with quite little difficulty.

Having actually worked in as a clerk in a store where I had to “ring people up,” I was amused by this cartoon from Dustin.  Oh, how the subtleties of current language usage impact us!  In this case, literally.

Of course, the grammarian who hides deep within me says that the problem might have been avoided if Dustin had said, “MAY I check you out?”, which would have been more grammatically correct. Somehow, I’m unconvinced that that would have made much of a difference. One can hope, however.

I found this list of reasons why the English language is difficult for many people to learn to be quite revealing. While it doesn’t seem to me to even begin to explain all of the problems, I thought it useful in providing some examples of the complexity of “simple” English.

Some Reasons Why The English Language Is Hard To Learn

1) The bandage was wound around the wound.

2) The farm was used to produce produce.

3) The dump was so full that it had to refuse more refuse.

4) We must polish the Polish furniture.

5) He could lead if he would get the lead out.

6) The soldier decided to desert his dessert in the desert.

7) Since there is no time like the present, he thought it was time to present the present.

8) A bass was painted on the head of the bass drum.

9) When shot at, the dove dove into the bushes.

10) I did not object to the object.

11) The insurance was invalid for the invalid.

12) There was a row among the oarsmen about how to row.

13) They were too close to the door to close it.

14) The buck does funny things when the does are present.

15) A seamstress and a sewer fell down into a sewer line.

16) To help with planting, the farmer taught his sow to sow.

17) The wind was too strong to wind the sail.

18) After a number of injections my jaw got number.

19) Upon seeing the tear in the painting, I shed a tear.

20) I had to subject the subject to a series of tests.

21) How can I intimate this to my most intimate friend?

Speaking of usage:

I watch the evening news on a fairly regular basis, so I am frequently upset by the lack of language sophistication on the part of many, particularly local, reporters, who just don’t seem to have a grasp of the fact that language is their business and that words DO make a difference.  Here are some examples which amused/annoyed me:

Perhaps the most frequently abused words in English are “I,” and “me.”  Now, I suppose that I shouldn’t take too much offense at their misuse by the general public, but I get quite annoyed at their misuse by reporters, who, obviously, didn’t learn the language well in school and are NOT being corrected by editors, etc.  (Do they actually write their copy, or is it really just made up without any level of proofing?)  If I didn’t care about having some idea of what is going on in the world, I’d refuse to watch the news at all (especially local news) since they don’t seem to be able to understand (let alone speak) simple English.  I’m just so tired of people talking about “I and my friends…”, or “other people and me” that I want to send the lot of them back to Middle School to learn standard grammar.  That is, of course, assuming that actual grammar is being taught in Middle School, which may well not be true.

That, of course, isn’t my only pet peeve.  There is, for example:

The Cavalry vs Calvary dilemma:

Look closely, there are two different “C” words indicated above.  I would suggest that in a world which pretends to be dominated by Christianity, one really should know the difference.  Perhaps a dictionary-type definition would help.

Cavalry is, traditionally, a form of horse-mounted military unit, although in the present dayit may include units carried by helicopter, or other airborne means.
Calvary is a geographic location (commonly believed to be a hilltop) just outside the walls of Jerusalem which is said to be the place of the crucifixion of Jesus.

NOTE: These two definitions refer to completely different subjects in almost every possible way I can think of.  I’m not sure what it’s going to take to get some people to realize that there is a difference here, but I wish it would happen soon!  I am completely floored by the number of “good” Christians (just ask them) who speak of Jesus’ suffering on Cavalry.  Unless he was saddle-sore, I find that a hard statement to follow.

Another especial grievance of mine, which I encounter with great frequency reflects a misunderstanding of the term “graphic,” especially in news broadcasts.  Here’s the dictionary definition of “graphic:”

1 a product of graphic art
2 a graphic representation (such as a picture, map, or graph) used especially for illustration

If one reads this with ANY degree of care, it becomes obvious, I think, that ANY pictorial/imagistic representation of anything is “graphic.”  Hence the frequently used warning of “graphic” images in TV news stories is stupid.  Of course, they are “graphic,” after all, they are pictures!  BUT there is nothing inherently controversial or sensitive about something being “graphic.”  This is certainly true in television news, where the entire broadcast is “graphic.”

Did you hear about the new restaurant called Karma?
There’s no menu: You get what you deserve.

They told me I wouldn't be good at poetry because I'm dyslexic.
But, so far, I've made 3 jugs and a vase, and they are lovely.

In a totally different direction, this from Zits:

Not all pronunciations are equal.

I ran across this list of anagrams a while back and I thought I’d close by including them. I found them amusing. An Anagram, as you know, is a word or phrase made by transposing or rearranging the letters of another word or phrase. The following struck me as clever.

Dormitory: Dirty Room

Evangelist: Evil's Agent

Desperation: A Rope Ends It

The Morse Code: Here Come Dots

Slot Machines: Cash Lost in 'em

Animosity: Is No Amity

Snooze Alarms: Alas! No More Z's

Alec Guinness: Genuine Class

Semolina: Is No Meal

The Public Art Galleries: Large Picture Halls, I Bet

A Decimal Point: I'm a Dot in Place

Eleven plus two: Twelve plus one

Contradiction: Accord not in it

I’ll be back,

LLAP

Dr. B

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201 Some Thoughts on Two Books I Recently Read

5/7/2021

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Okay.  So, twenty-four days ago, the doctor opened a six+ inch incision in my left knee, took out all of the bad, arthritic stuff, and replaced the entire knee joint with metal and plastic.  That was the easy part (I was asleep).  Since then, it’s been a bit of a constant battle between being stiff, sore, tired, UNsleepy, hungry/NOT hungry, etc., etc., etc.  Oh, and some “discomfort.”  The biggest annoyance has been that my computer, etc. is in my office on the basement level of our house, while I’ve been on the main floor.  That meant that I could check email and stuff on my iPad, but I have not found it (much as I like it) to be very useful to write with very much.  Bonnie has been an absolute angel and I’ve gotten all kinds of support from the rest of the family, but it’s been boring, especially since sitting in ANY position for very long leads to “stiffening up” and unhappiness.  The doctor and Physical Therapy people I’ve been going to see have been VERY helpful, but I don’t like being quasi-helpless.  My sleep schedule has been knocked out of whack, as well, which doesn’t help either.  I am now cleared for a flight of stairs, so I decided that I would come downstairs, fire up the computer, and drag out the post I had planned to send on Shakespeare’s Birth/Death Day, which was supposed to be just before I went into the hospital on April 23rd.  It may be a little less relevant now, but I did find these books interesting, if for somewhat different reasons, as you shall see.

I have done a great deal of reading during the last year.  Anyone who knows me, knows that I always read a good deal and always have, but I have managed to spend much of the COVID “lockdown,” quite happily, reading.  Yes, I have watched some TV; yes, Bonnie and I have gone to the YMCA for our Aquacise classes (at least since they returned to availability); and yes, we HAVE ventured out occasionally to a store (mostly for groceries) or some few other places.  We have even gotten together (under highly controlled situations) with a few people other than Maggi and Brian, whom we consider to be in our “pod.”  All in all, however, our “lockdown” has been more than reasonably tight, especially for me, since Bonnie tends to go through the grocery store faster and more efficiently than I do, so she almost always runs these errands herself.

So, I’ve done a lot of reading, even a fair amount of re-reading, since I have never had a problem with returning to a book which I have previously enjoyed.  I’m simply not capable of considering a well-written book (or movie or play) to be not worthy of a second (or greater) encounter just because I know how it ends.  I’ve never believed that the only excuse for encountering any story, book, movie, or play is to discover the ending.  Given the limited number of plots available in the universe, I would argue that most of what differentiates one book, etc. from another has to be the details of how the story is presented.  That’s why I have ten DIFFERENT movie versions of Hamlet, for example, and have been involved in productions at least twice and seen the play a couple of other times.  Given that I have also studied it in classes, and read and taught about it, I KNOW HOW IT ENDS.  Yet every performance of every production is a bit different and almost all of them I have found to have some value.  But I’m getting distracted from my point.

In the last few months, I have been reading some books which I’ve gotten from the public library (now back open but still being quite careful about COVID).  These are books which have looked interesting, but which I didn’t think I would wish to buy.  (Just this winter I have expanded the shelf space of my “stacks,” but they are STILL dangerously close to being crammed, so I have to be careful about purchases.)  Anyway, I thought they were worth writing about, but for quite different reasons.  Since both have some (distant) relation to Shakespeare, this seemed an appropriate moment to present my thoughts regarding them, with Shakespeare’s birth/death day on April 23 in hand.

The first of these books was HAMNET: A Novel of the Plague, by Maggie O’Farrell.  As all Shakespearian scholars know, Will and Anne had three children: Susanna, Judith and Hamnet.  Judith and Hamnet were twins, born several years after Susanna, and Hamnet died when he was eleven years old.  It is pretty widely accepted that he probably died from the plague, but that’s not provable from contemporary evidence.

I think what I enjoyed about this novel was that while it seemed quite clear to me that O’Farrell was writing about Shakespeare’s family, the character who seems to clearly be based on Anne, is always referred to as “Agnes” and I don’t believe that Will is ever mentioned by name, but he is always referred to as “the Latin tutor,” or “the glover’s son,” or something of the sort.

I found this an effective way to create a sort of Brechtian “distancing” for all of the characters, who are clearly (at least to me) based on the historical figures I know something about.  I found that this helped me to ignore the version of the history of Shakespeare which I have concocted from my own studies and to accept this version on its own merits.  I first must hastily admit that (without doing a great deal of cross-checking with other sources) I found that the story O’Farrell tells seems to conform to the facts which are known about Shakespeare quite closely.  Now, contrary to what some claim, we do have quite a lot of factual data about Will, in particular, but also there are existing records regarding his parents, brothers, wife, children, etc., so I give O’Farrell considerable credit for having done her homework and creating a quite plausible version of the story of Will Shakespeare and his family and what happened to them.

Of course, I would hasten to add that this is fiction.  I would agree that it has the established facts right (I think), but no one can say exactly how these people felt or the intimate details of their lives, and deaths.  O’Farrell does seem to think that there is some significance to the name of Shakespeare’s son and the title (and lead character of) one of his best-known plays.  I found this to be an interesting story and quite enjoyably told, but I also confess to a good deal of skepticism about this presumed relationship.

It IS true that Hamnet and Hamlet were, for all intents and purposes, interchangeable versions of the same name during the period. The same was true of Anne and Agnes.  I’m less than sure about other examples of this sort of thing, but I KNOW these two cases are quite well established from numerous sources.  It is also pretty widely believed that Shakespeare’s twins were named for their friends (and the children’s godparents) Hamnet and Judith Sadler, who lived in Stratford-Upon-Avon and had known Will since he was a child.  Hamnet Sadler was, I believe, a baker with a shop not far from that of Will’s father, so these families almost certainly knew each other for at least most of their lives.

However, the idea that Hamlet is some sort of “tribute” to Will’s lost son simply doesn’t make much sense to me.   I’ll admit that the name is, essentially, the same, but I don’t see how that ties into the idea of the play as “honoring” his son.  Okay, Hamlet (the character) IS a “good” guy and I have never believed that he was really “crazy” at any point in the play.  I also have come to believe that Hamlet (the character) is really supposed to be about sixteen, which is about what Hamnet Shakespeare would have been when the play was written.  The character is, logically, not the fully grown man he is all too often portrayed as in performance. (See #74 in the Archives.)  I think resolving Hamlet’s age this way helps to explain a lot of the problems within the play which have always seemed awkward to me, but it doesn’t establish any relationship between this name and the play.

There is also, of course, the FACT that the story of the play of Hamlet is NOT something Shakespeare just made up.  No, it is clearly established that Saxo Grammaticus told a version of the story of Amleth, a prince whose story parallels that of the play, in books published in the 13th Century and the stories had, apparently been around for a while at that point.  It is also a FACT that Shakespeare took many of his plots from stories told by Saxo Grammaticus and a number of other sources.  Off the top of my head, I can’t think of ANY Shakespeare plays with an entirely original plot, although there may be some.

In any event, the basics of the story of Hamlet (Amleth) were known at the time Shakespeare wrote it and it is pretty widely believed that this story had been used as the basis for a play (the Ur-Hamlet) which had been performed in London a few years prior to Shakespeare’s version.  Now, we can’t PROVE that this ever existed, but there seems to be a fair amount of evidence that the story of Hamlet had appeared on the stage in and around London prior to roughly 1599, when the first version we have of Shakespeare’s Hamlet was (apparently) written.  Would I argue that there is definitely NO connection between Will’s choice of this material and the name of his dead son?  No, but I see no convincing evidence of any indication that there IS such a relationship.

In any case, I found O’Farrell’s book an interesting read.  I’d say it was enjoyable, but that seems a bit crass for a book ultimately about death and grieving.  It’s not going into my library.  But I’m not at all sorry to have read it and I would suggest it to others as at least worthwhile, if not the pleasantest subject imaginable.  It IS an interesting take on the facts.

The other book is A Bright Ray of Darkness by Ethan Hawke.  Yes, THAT Ethan Hawke, the movie “star” who thinks he’s a writer, and, apparently, other things, as well.  So, he has written this novel about a coked up, sex-driven “star” who is going through a divorce, precipitated by his blatant infidelity, from his equally, if not more famous wife, who ends up cast as Hotspur in a Broadway production of Henry IV, parts 1 & 2 (combined for performance) which stars one of the US’s outstanding actors as Falstaff who is presented as a rather extremely self-centered snob who seems to consider himself “above” everyone else.  There are other members of the cast whom have well-established stage credentials, but our lead (the “star”) clearly seems to think he’s really better than the rest of the cast; at least as I read the story.

One really doesn’t have to be terrifically “up” on movie star gossip to recognize that this appears to be more than slightly autobiographical.  I don’t even pretend to pay much attention to social media (which I actively ignore) or the “pop” tabloids, but even I recognized this storyline as sounding a bit familiar, and a tiny modicum of research (five minutes tops!) led me directly to the blatant parallels in Hawke’s life.  Now if a movie “star” wants to parade his drug and sex problems in public, that’s his business, but I don’t have to pay him to find out about them, and I really don’t wish to do so.  I do find it rather annoying, however, when he chooses to make purposely “tacky” comments about other “characters” in his “novel,” when it is pretty blatantly apparent that he is “really” referring to real people who were also involved in this production.

I don’t think I am giving anything away when I point out that I am probably prejudiced.  It seems quite obvious to me that Hawke is really writing about himself and the production being described is the 2003 Lincoln Center production of Henry IV which featured Kevin Kline as Falstaff in a portrayal which earned him a Tony nomination for Best Actor in 2004.  My prejudice comes to the fore particularly when I consider Hawke’s treatment of Kline.

Now it’s been a long time, but I did know Mr. Kline when we were both students at Indiana University a lot of years ago.  I have even been in productions with him in college.  I will admit that it is certainly possible that he has become the self-centered egotist which Hawke portrays him as, BUT I find it a bit hard to believe.

Kline’s career is too well established, and he has received too many nominations and won too many awards for a wide variety of movies and theatre productions for his work not to be highly thought of.  If he was as big a jerk as Hawke makes him, it would be public knowledge, even if it didn’t affect his career much.  I also know a bit (a TINY bit) about the work he has done in support of charities, with the NY Shakespeare Festival, in support of scholarships, etc. to accept the way Hawke portrays him as likely to be accurate.  Still, it has been a long time since I last ran into Kevin in Hoey Aud. when he was there with The Acting Company performing in The Three Sisters in 197?, so I DON’T know.  I just find it hard to believe.

I am also probably prejudiced by the fact that “William Harding” (the character who seems eerily like Hawke himself) is portrayed as playing Hotspur (the part Hawke played in this production), who seems completely unaware of much of anything about the play he is performing.  Late in the book, the character goes to great trouble, and considerable risk to his health, in order to perform at a “school” matinee because he expects the school kids to appreciate him, even if most of the critics thought him in over his head.  He also says that he believes that the school kids will enjoy his performance and recognize that he is the true “hero” of the play.  Needless to say, he is quite upset when he is booed by them during the curtain call.

I’ve seen and read Henry IV (both parts).  To be honest, they have never been huge favorites of mine, but I don’t think one has to be a complete Shakespeare nerd to recognize that Hotspur (the character in the play) is clearly set up by Shakespeare as a contrast to Prince Hal (Henry V to be).  Where Hal runs around with commoners, drunks, whores, etc. in Eastcheap; Hotspur is all about “honor,” “war,” “power,” and being a member of the martial nobility.  He also seems to be something of a misogynistic jerk in the way he treats his wife, but that may be too modern an idea.  Still, even Hal’s father (Henry IV) admires Hotspur as a great example of what a “true” Prince should be.

On the other hand, when Hal is forced to take up his “princely” duties in the course of the action, we find he is a better warrior than Hotspur, whom he defeats in single combat and who clearly understands that his rather happy-go-lucky life with Falstaff and the rest must be given up when the time comes that he will have to assume the throne.

To return to Hawke’s book, however, “William” apparently thinks until at least near the end of the run that, because Hotspur is roundly praised by many characters, he must be the “hero.”  Anyone who understands that Hal becomes Henry V, who is clearly shown (at least in HIS play) as possessing all of the best qualities of a “TRUE” king would also understand that Hotspur is NOT the hero of Henry IV.  Now that MAY be Lancastrian propaganda, but we are dealing with the sensibilities of Elizabeth I’s England which considered Henry V one of its greatest warrior kings.

Perhaps it’s unfair of me to assume that ACTORS should have some comprehension of the entire play they are performing, but I do think so.  I made serious efforts to teach my students that a reasonably thorough understanding of the entire play (ANY play) and how it works is likely to be beneficial in making whatever contribution you are engaged in of ANY play at any time.  If you are acting, the character you play may well believe all of the praise heaped on him by the other characters, but I would argue that the actor portraying him should have a better understanding of how the character he is portraying fits into the whole as created by the author.  Hal, after all, will become Henry V, whom Shakespeare seems to consider at least close to an ideal monarch and he (Hal) will defeat Hotspur when he rebels against Hal’s father, Henry IV.

All things considered I would NOT suggest Hawke’s book.  Perhaps it would sell on a rack at a supermarket checkout line, but I didn’t find it to be a very satisfying read.  Then, again, I also have strong reservations about the idea that great performers live a constant life of sex, drugs, and ego.  I MAY be wrong, but I doubt it.  The few “famous” people I have met were pretty straightforward  types of people, who didn’t glory in “stardom” and ego.  All in all, I found the book not particularly well written, whiney, self-serving and somewhat adolescent.  I’m certainly glad that I didn’t pay for a copy but got it from the library.  I would not encourage anyone to waste their time (let alone their money) on it.

Let me know about whatever books YOU have enjoyed recently.  I might like them, as well, as I expect I will continue to read a good deal.

LLAP,

Dr. B

P. S.  I’m going to TRY to get back to a regular schedule of postings, but I’m not done with the knee “thing” yet, so postings may be a bit irregular for a while yet.
            RSB

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200 Love Isn’t Just for Spring!

4/8/2021

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Well, Easter has come and gone, so it must now be SPRING!  We all know about Spring.  It’s the season when a young man’s fancy turns to love.  Well, it may be more correct to say that a young man’s fancy turns to sex.  Of course, in my experience young men’s fancies frequently turn to sex, but I won’t go there.  I don’t know about young women, never having been one, but I confess to having suspicions.  In any case, Spring and Love are frequently associated with each other.

However, personally, I tend to associate love with early autumn.  Why, you ask?  Well, it’s probably in part because that’s when I first met Bonnie.  Having been an academic, though, it may also be that fall was always a year’s “real” beginning.  Of course, as a theatre person, it was also because of this quote:

You wonder how these things begin.
Well, this begins with a glen.
It begins with a season which,
for want of a better word we may as well call- September.

It begins in a forest where the woodchucks woo,
And the leaves wax green,
And vines intertwine like lovers; try to see it.
Not with your eyes, for they are wise,
But see it with your ears:
the cool green breathing of the leaves.
And hear it with the inside of your hand:
The soundless sound of shadows flicking light.
Celebrate sensation.
Recall that secret place.
You've been there, you remember:
That special place where once-
Just once- in your crowded sunlit lifetime,
You hid away in shadow from the tyranny of time.
That spot beside the clover
Where someone's hand held your hand
And love was sweeter than the berries,
Or the honey,
Or the stinging taste of mint.

It is September-
Before a rainfall-
A perfect time to be in love.

When I was in college, in 1963, my roommate had just been to New York and seen The Fantasticks (which had opened in 1960) and he came back to school with a copy of the original cast album, which he then proceeded to drive me crazy with by playing it over and over, to the point that I got a more than a bit sick of it.

Then, I think it was Spring Break of that same academic year, I got a chance to go to NYC with some friends and they all wanted to see it.  (I wasn’t especially enthused at this idea, but I went along with them to see the show in its “original” production at the old Sullivan Street Playhouse down in the Village).  Obviously, the original cast was long gone, although the one we saw was quite good.  I am forced to admit that I, obviously, fell completely (and hopelessly) in love with the show, so I promptly bought the recording, played it constantly, and still would place this show near the top of my list of the greatest shows ever written.  And this feeling remains true to this day even after seeing it several more times in other places and being involved with (I think) FIVE different productions at WCU (designer, cast, director, crew, you name it).  I still think it MAY be as close to perfect a musical as one can get.  It not only has some really clever comedy, but some matter for real thought as to the nature of love and the difference between love and infatuation.

I think that, like all males who have ever had the slightest desire to think of themselves as a “Romantic Hero,” (almost every guy I’ve ever known) I’ve always identified a bit with El Gallo.  But the teacher in me may identify with him even more than the (used to be teenaged) Romantic.  After all, I think most of us who have ever been teachers can understand this one of his speeches:

There is a curious paradox
That no one can explain.
Who understands the secret
Of the reaping of the grain?

Who understands why Spring is born
Out of Winter’s laboring pain?
Or why we all must die a bit
Before we grow again.

I do not know the answer.
I merely know it’s true.
I hurt them for that reason;
And myself a little bit, too.

I’ve never known a decent teacher who enjoyed assigning poor grades to any of their students, or otherwise giving their students a hard time.  And I’ll tell you, if you haven’t already learned it, that doing so hurts, even when you know it’s the right thing to do.  You do it, but you don’t like to do it.  However, as Sakini says, in The Teahouse of the August Moon, “Pain make man think.  Thought make man wise.  Wisdom make life endurable.”

I’m not sure what got me onto this philosophical track, probably it’s the fact that it was almost a year ago that I became a “minister” so that Maggi and Brian could get married when they wished.  I guess, however, that I’ve always had a bit of a philosophical bent about me.  I’ve always enjoyed mythology of all sorts, although I’ve never really studied mythology per se to anything I’d call “depth.”  Theatre is, as I’ve said before, believed to have sprung from mytho-religious roots and has often told the stories of various mythological creatures and the interactions of men and gods, so that could account for at least a part of my interest.  I really can’t explain it, I just enjoy learning about folk tales, myths, and legends.

That interest has led me to spend a little time exploring some of the myths and legends of the peoples who lived in North America before Europeans arrived.  It’s also true that I have found the mystery novels of Tony and Anne Hillerman and James D. Doss which involve members of the tribal nations trying to solve mysteries which, often, relate to traditional mythology, etc., to be of considerable interest.  They are good mysteries, and they feed my interest in the traditions and beliefs of the native peoples they include.

The fact that my family lived quite near the home of the Eastern Band of the Cherokee while we were at Western also stimulated some interest in their legends and myths.  Andrew Greeley made reference to the Cherokee Legend of the First Strawberry in one of his Blackie Ryan mysteries and I liked it a lot.  I wasn’t smart enough to copy the exact version he used in whichever story it was, but I have found this version which I think is pretty close to the one which I first read in Greeley’s book.  I think it’s quite appropriate when one thinks about love.

The Cherokee Legend of the First Strawberry
At the dawn of time, the first man and the first woman set up their home together by the side of a
     great broad river. They had everything they needed for a blissful life: Fruit, berries, meat and fish,
plenty of wood and fresh water and, of course, each other. They lived as happily as any man and
woman have ever lived together, until their first quarrel. It started with a small thing. First man said,
“Why didn’t you cook this?” and then, first woman said, “Why didn’t you bring in the wood for the fire?”
     Pretty soon it got worse, with first man saying, “Why didn’t you tidy that?”, and first woman saying,
   “Why are you so messy?” Pretty soon, both the insults, and a few wooden plates and bowls, began to
fly.

The first woman was so upset that she decided to leave the first man. At the break of day, while he
   was still asleep, she set off down the valley, heading towards the rising sun. She walked and walked,
always looking straight ahead of her, and not once turning back. When the first man woke up and saw
   that she was gone, he waited for her to come back, but she did not come back. He found her tracks
   along the valley, but she had a long head start on him, as she did not stop or look around.

The sun was now high in the great blue sky. It looked down upon the first man, as he followed after
   the first woman, and it saw that there was sadness on the face of an otherwise pristine and perfect
world and all his surroundings. The sun asked the man if he was still angry with his wife. He said that
   he was not angry with her. The sun asked if he would like to have her back. He said that he would like
   to have her back. And the sun took pity on the first man and decided to help him. His gentle rays
   touched the ground along the woman’s path, and a huckleberry bush sprang up. Its fruit was shiny
   and enticing, but as she passed, her eyes remained fixed on the distance, and she did not see the
   berries.

So the sun shone again on the ground up ahead of the woman. He caused a clump of blackberries to
   grow up beside her path. She refused to even glance at them.

Then the sun thought that he must create something entirely new; something so vivid, so fragrant,
   and so delicious, that even the first woman could not fail to take notice of them in her resolute and
   unhappy mood.

He blessed the ground again with his rays, and the first patch of strawberries spread over the ground.
   Their sweet scent filled the woman’s senses, and her mood became lighter. She began to look around
   her, and she saw the bright red fruit hiding beneath the leaves. It looked so enticing that she picked
   one and tried it. She tasted the strawberry on her tongue, and she began to remember the happiness
   she knew when she first set up home with her husband. She looked at the half-eaten strawberry in her
   hand and saw a bright red heart. She found she no longer felt the pressing desire to leave him. She sat
down on the ground and wondered what she must do. By the time she had eaten a few more
   strawberries, first man had caught up to her and sat down quietly and smiled. She gave him a
   strawberry to eat.

They both then realized how much they cared for one another and walked back home together taking
   a few strawberry plants with them to plant at their home so they would not forget this lesson. Do
   nothing in haste, consider all things thoroughly and always forgive one another of your faults.

Love isn’t just for Spring.  Love is for always.  How do I know that?  I pay attention to the legends of the people.  All people.  Why?  Because our legends go a long way towards defining who we are and where we belong in the Universe.  They are worth paying attention to.  Perhaps we would all be better people if we spent less time in a digital frenzy and more contemplating our own culture’s foundational legends.  Many legends are NOT literally TRUE.  But they are important, because “Legends are lessons.  They ring with truths.” They are worth remembering.

LLAP,

Cyrano do Ber…. No!

Diego Montoy…. No!

Dr. B

P.S. It MAY be a while before my next post, as I am having my left knee DONE (as they say) next week and I’m not sure what that means in terms of how long it will take for me to get to my next post.  I haven’t forgotten, though, so, “I’ll be back!”  I just don’t know exactly when.

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199 Some Signs Encountered on the Road of Life

3/26/2021

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I did some rearrangement of some of the furnishings in my office/den/library not long ago because I needed a bit more shelf space for my library of books “I can’t bear to be without.” Okay, I’m probably guilty of channeling my mother, the librarian, who was also the daughter of an English Lit. professor. But I have to admit that my all too vast collection of books, plays, etc. has made my “COVID confinement” MUCH more bearable than it would have been otherwise. Anyway, after adjusting the placement of some things (and assembling some more shelves), I find I now have a place for the sign Bonnie gave me a while back. (See below.)

THAT got me to thinking that it’s been a while since I did a post about signs, so I thought I’d see what I had filed away….

This isn’t really a “sign,” I suppose, but seeing it in front of a house in our neighborhood last Yule season made me laugh, so I wanted to share it. Anybody need a gnome?

As I have confessed that I am fond of fish and chips, I suppose that it’s no real surprise that I enjoyed this sign when I saw it.

I suppose one might find this sign on any college campus bulletin board, but it did make me think, then laugh. Perhaps you’ll find it amusing, as well.

Ya kinda, haveta think about this one a bit, as well.

Just think about it. If it doesn’t make you laugh, I’d be surprised.

Other signs make me think, but I don’t always achieve understanding. Here’s an example:

If you understand this, please explain it to me. I’d really appreciate it a lot.

Speaking of signs which make one think. How’s this one?

Other examples of “sign confusion include this one. Did I call for a cop, or for someone to mow my grass?

On the other hand, anyone who has ever tried to read a hand-written prescription would understand this one:

And, finally, perhaps the greatest wisdom of the Western world.

Just ask any cat owner. Don’t ask their CAT, they lie! (Preferably in the sun.)

I expect to return to this theme again, sometime, but I think that’s quite enough of this for now.

LLAP,

Dr. B

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204 On Getting Older

203 Reading and the like…

202 English Language & Grammar Humor 2

​201 Some Thoughts on Two Books I Recently Read

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