Happy Labor Day

Labor Day Weekend gives all teachers, even those of us at STC, an extra day off.  That means that more "work at home" can be done (and I have a lot of it). More cleaning, yardwork and other kinds of "catch up" work can be attempted --- and it must be, and soon. 

Labor Day also signals the beginning of the end of the "hot" season in Savannah. Too bad.  I will miss the "summer dresses" I always enjoy seeing; I will miss the parade of bare legs; I will most miss the bodies bared to the heat. 

But the Fall in Savannah is glorious: warm, sunny, mostly calm, and always easy-going. Hopefully no stray hurricanes will come our way and we will all do well in our calm and yet focused lifestyle.

Happy Labor Day to all to us who labor --- for too-little money, for too long, for too-little respect and leisure. Happy Labor Day!

Cancer

The husband of a close collegial friend at STC recently underwent an operation for colon cancer. Cancer does not strike the same chord of fear in people that it once did, but it should. Doctors and the medical community are trying to convince all of us that survival rates are up, the view of cancer should change to "living with cancer," and that cancer is a survivable event. Since all that medical talk is "change of tone" rather than
"change of substantial fact" I prefer to accept cancer for what it is -- a life-threatening disease that cannot, at this point, be cured by medical science. 

Cancers can be arrested for a time; they can be slowed to the level of no discernible growth -- but they cannot be cured. Inevitably they grow again -- or they are metastasized to some other area of the body. Cancer is not the devil -- but it is not a benign sickness. 

There are so many different kinds of cancer that it is unthinkable to imagine that somehow you need not worry about it. Cancer, in many ways subtle and general, changes the order of things in everyone who is touched by the disease. 

Fame's Not the Game

At Lafayette College, we used to have a joke about the idea "I Know Famous People." Anyone who did a lot of name-dropping was guilty of this kind of "crime" and should be forever damned by having to wear a "hole-y" tee shirt with that phrase: "I Know Famous People" emblazoned across the front.

I don't know a lot of famous people -- I must admit. Many of my students have easily eclipsed my fame in just about everything I do/did. And that was all expected. I am an observer/teacher/learner by trade and take great delight in that process. Fame is a kind of useless concept anyway. What does "fame" mean? When that movie/television show came out, many people compared it to the Interlochen experience --- talented people who are carefully auditioned, trained well, connected with the right kind of mentoring, and then who succeed marvelously, Just like on "Fame." Interlochen did create fame for many -- but more importantly, gave them a chance to share their talents.  It's all about talent; not about fame. 

Thinking of Bertina (Tina)

I try not to think of Tina too much -- though it seems to happen every day. I feel a tremendous sense of loss when I do. This Gemini woman is so incredible when she is positive, and open, and real, and unafraid. And then she slides back into her fears and becomes just hateful, and "impossible."

I am a pretty typical male -- who has had a charmed and lucky life personally: good parents, and nice education, some obstacles/but nothing too bad; just a positive and focused life. Like many others I have had and will always have doubts: about myself, my beliefs, my future. That is just being human.

Bertina seems to allow no doubts; she trusts in nothing that is not absolute. I have faith that there is an absolute -- a "greater than myself," God -- but I am not sure of His/Her relationship to me as a person, or to mankind in particular. Bertina has been "saved" from many things in her life: an impossibly tough childhood, a unique family, her own escape into addiction, and other things to precious and intimate to mention. Being "saved" marks her as a one who doesn't have too much tolerance for those of us who don't understand that concept. I don't think I need to be "saved." The Biblical story of the "great fall" in the Garden of Eden makes little sense to me in the light of what I believe about human beings: we have free will, we will make mistakes, we are not perfect. None of those things make humans inherently bad -- and I refuse to believe we are such. We were created to be good; we are good.

Bertina has extraordinary promise as a human being; she undercuts this promise with her own spite, her own anger, her own longing for disappointment and failure. The love in her is nonetheless beautiful and deep -- but hopefully not wasted.  I wish her all the happiness and fulfillment she can handle. 

On the Brink

So many elements in the world are "on the brink!" We are on the brink of entering the war in Syria by adding US/UN airpower to the fight; we are on the brink of shutting down the government because a few maniacal right wing Republicans don't like Obamacare (or are racist, or both); we are on the brink of closing down the government and curtailing all services because of fiscal bullying on the anti-debt-ceiling caucus; we are on the brink of hurting the education of a number of STC students because we are convinced that we can force students to "learn faster" by giving them two Math or two English courses at the same time, by the same teacher, in the same classroom. 

We are on the brink of moral turpitude as we pretend that our polarization is morally based -- as opposed to selfishly based. We are on the brink of climate disaster as the deniers rally their stupidity and pretend there are no climate changes going on in the world -- until their hats float gently off their heads.

Life isn't always on the brink -- but it seems as if it is. And then change puts us firmly on another brink.

An Affinity for Brains

Attracted to talent; attracted to brains; attracted to energy; attracted to compassion! I have always been blown away by people who actually accomplish things and do so without compromising themselves. 

These successful people do not "blame others" when they sometimes fail; when their efforts don't succeed. They do not "curse the wind" for bringing them ill will or bad luck. They make their own luck and eventually succeed because they are steadfast in their abilities, their hard work, and their focus. 

My wonderful surrogate daughter Tosha is now engaged in a "great and scary project," testing whether that woman (or any woman), so educated and so talented, can long resist. She has met -- on a battlefield of that project -- an older, more cynical and savvy man -- who is inclined to use her for his own purposes. Can she get past these very human obstacles and still succeed in producing and directing (and perhaps even acting) according to her own principles. Or will she be used, for good or ill, to glorify and substantiate the "legacy" of another -- the older, the wiser, the more cynical, the more desperate. May the gods of theatre keep her talent intact, her reasoning sure, and her heart (as always) in the right place. 

Confusion, Confusion, Confusion

This registration and set-up period for classes has been the most confused, last-minute, and under-prepared-for semester in all my time at STC. I am not sure why -- new administrators, changing practices, new courses, many more students? Whatever the reason I have become more and more aware of the students' inabilities to cope with the bureaucracy attempting to do the impossible -- to reform itself 

First Nervous Day of School

It always feels a bit nerve-wracking, starting school again.  Whether it is high school, college, first grade, or what-have-you -- it is a nervous time.  The stomach is a bit unsettled -- the plan of the class is lost in the shuffling of thoughts and worries back and forth in the brain. The body and mind are both awash in worry and excitement.

Turning that excitement into positive excitement is the trick.  Keeping cool under pressure and focusing on what must be done -- is essential.  A teacher is a magician of emotion and feeling -- coping with worry and creating confidence and hope. 

And then it is all over -- for good or bad. 

Tides

Classes start tomorrow. Our new Dean leaves on the 30th of August. The tide rolls in; the tide rolls out. Life goes on in spite of constant change -- the new faces reflect the passing of the old faces. That is how it has always been-- and how it will always be. 

I am sorry to see this Dean go -- she was making progress on a number of fronts and actually could have turned General Studies into a real Division given more time. But the "hope" that one has when one starts to be enveloped by bureaucracy often flies like the morning mists. The rays of the sun dissipate it; the winds shift it from own way to another.

All of any one person's efforts cannot remake the world. The world remakes itself and includes the workings of many who try, and many who don't, and many more who don't care. 

Alan Poindexter: Rest in Peace; Charlotte Misses You; and Others Will Too

While I was teaching and directing at UNCC back in the 80's, I was fortunate to work briefly with a number of excellent students: Catherine Smith, Caridad Svich, Gina Stewart, Nancy Nixon, and many others.  Among those others was a talented, precocious, but somewhat shy freshman named Alan. Alan Poindexter was just beginning his work in college theatre at that point -- and he came to take a huge part in my production of Cloud 9. I did not stay at UNCC very long after that production due to the politics of the department -- more gender related than artistic I would now say. 

But this is about Alan. His sense of invention and hard work showed in that production -- and made him stand out as a potential professional theatrician just because of that.  This summer (2013) Alan passed away in Charlotte, NC after giving up his position as Artistic Director of the Children's Theatre of Charlotte earlier in the year. Alan made many breakthrough's in the Charlotte theatre scene: in artistic freedom in Angels in America, in numerous upgraded children's theatre productions; and always contributed to respecting and honoring other Charlotteans working in their crafts. 

Gina Stewart is right--Charlotte doesn't do a great job of respecting the extraordinary theatre work of Charlotte performers.  Even Charlotteans at a distance understand that Alan was one of those extraordinary theatre people who earned that respect -- on a local, regional, and even national level. 

The Incredible Lightness of Being...Alive

In spite of everything: overwork, jobs left undone, people I respect deserting their posts, sadness for no reason, stress brought on by everything, and the outlandish sense that nothing ever gets any better -- I still enjoy being.

Most people I know are fighting against the tide -- struggling against obstacles that occur and then quickly reoccur. It's a fight...to the death...literally.

Desiring You; Loving You

Love and desire -- both hold special places in my soul.  They are allied, but they are not the same. Love deals with the totality of another person. It not only wants to physically join but to also psychically join with the other. In philosophical terms -- it honors and respects the other and wants to be the other.

Desire wants the other as well. But usually only some part of the other -- like the beautiful body, or a part of the body, or the smile, or the soft voice, or the gentle heart. Both desire and love signal a movement towards the other -- but neither has any guarantee of successful acceptance by the other. In either case the other can resist, can turn away, can refuse, can ignore, and even can pretend such movement does not exist.

 

Passing ON, Without Stress

Some people learn, eventually, the things that will make them happy.  As I listen to my Dear Surrogate daughter (hereafter DSd) -- I think "go ahead, make a decision -- fight for the happiness you deserve." T has to learn to try for perfection, but sometimes settle for less -- and grow towards that perfection. There are no assurances. There is only the imperfect male out there -- who perhaps loves you, but cannot, as yet admit it. 

This very day a very new Administrator at STC bid "Adieu!"
She needed to destress.  She needed to learn the way to being happy -- and she is doing so. She is going back to her old job at SCAD -- and I wish her well. We will miss her leadership at STC. 

Friday before Classes Start

There has been a flurry of activity around here -- registration, classes added (or not), preparation begun.  It is all very unsettling -- it doesn't seem orderly somehow. 

Rotary today as well -- I have to arrive early since I have all the "gear." necessary to do the meeting. Hope it all comes off well. 

The weekend promises rain -- and I desperately need to do yard work.  We shall see. 
All things remain the same. 

Beauty in the Eye of...

There is such beauty in the world.  Some people are gifted with extraordinary physical beauty, especially when they are young. Others get progressively more beautiful as they progress through their lives, their roles as parents, their relationships, their marriage(s).  

Today I had the wonderful opportunity to interact with several beautiful people -- a youngish female scholar, an enduring administrative assistant, a new teacher drawn to the life of teaching our specific students at our Technical College. All of these people were women -- but they were beautiful not just because they were attractive -- but because they displayed depth, and kindness, and compassion -- well beyond their own particular physical beauty. Such complete beauty is the kind that makes my heart beat faster. 

It is one of the reasons that I think living, teaching, being a friend, conversing, etc. are all "art forms" fully supplying an aesthetic level of existence to my thinking and my doing and my being.     

Prelude to a Class

Getting ready for classes requires redoing the syllabus, setting a schedule for the term, mentally preparing oneself for the interactions that comprise teaching, and overcoming the reticence on all sides to the idea of being there -- together -- to learn.

Teaching for me has always been performance -- preparing the brain to move forward into the process without faltering, feeling too many obstacles, or rejecting the process outright. Then the schedule changes themselves need to be assimilated and made easy.
Then comes the execution of the process -- hopefully seamlessly -- and the teacher then focuses on something beyond the simple information. 

Savannah 1

The time between dusk and dawn; when trees drip moisture and the bugs sing in the trees! Trees are hung with vines and Spanish moss. Shadows are deep and dappled under a summer skylight.  Quiet rules.

Savannah is one of the most beautiful cities in the world. Its people are kind, a little kinky, and compassionate. At night the rustling of leaves mimics the rustling of cool sheets in dreamy bedrooms.  Not a party town per se, like New Orleans. But a town of partiers, more like Amsterdam or Stockholm. The town rests in fits and starts, and sleeps on the margins. Each room is a caress in itself.  Each house gives a different feeling of complicity. You are not sleeping alone in this town -- even when you are alone. 

Savannah is  ....... mystery, and story, and a kind of poetic fog. It is words that are not often used: "tontine,""murmuring,""liaison,""erotique,""slow ride." Savannah gives hope to the disjointed and alone -- and caresses the souls of the deep thinkers who also feel almost as deeply. 

North Carolina Shakespeare Festival: Do Not Go Gently...

The NCSF Board voted several days ago (August 1st) to "cease operations immediately" due to a lack of funds, just before engaging in its scheduled audition and rehearsal for "The Scottish Play" in September. The Board, which is huge, gave no details of its situation -- and seemed to suggest (along with the staff) by its silence -- that "oh well, we have to close....la, dee, da." That Board should be eliminated -- with a new Board chosen who can and will actually support the theatre.

Managing Director Pedro Silva is a professional who has directed, acted and produced on the High Point stage for a long, long time. To undercut the theatre is this fashion is an absolute tragedy and elevates "bean counting" to its highest possible idiocy. The Peter Principle is in operation here. People of Greensboro, High Point and Winston Salem -- support the NCSF before you lose it all, on account of the stupidity of a very few. 

 

Death Out There

Every person's death around me or near me, serves to remind me of the reality of mortality. Will the world miss a beat when I am gone? No, obviously not. Will even those closest to me pause and reflect about me -- perhaps for a second, if I am even worth that. I am mortal; I am transient; I am constantly moving towards and beyond my own death. 

This is not philosophy -- this is fact. There is no religious element to it -- death is simply "death of the body"  -- at some last moment of tangible choice. There is no death without this choice, I believe. We have free will -- this I believe. And I also believe we will not be "punished" by a higher being for having that free choice, and even for exercising it -- albeit badly.

What lies beyond death? I do not know. I speculate that it will be as I imagine it to be -- or so I spoke to Sheila at her untimely death. "Heaven will be...what you want it to be!" That is the only answer that logic can bring to the question -- that thinking may or may not be correct, but it is our consolation in the saddest times we live through. 

Ray Woods, Rest in Peace

Ray Woods was one of my real friends at Rotary East.  Since I became a full-time member I often sat at Ray's table, in the back center (closest to the food, farthest from the podium).  We often talked about my job(s) -- which he found interesting; the things we had in common (my birthplace, Milwaukee: a city he worked in and appreciated); companies I knew (Cutler-Hammer, where my Dad worked: a place where Ray consulted in Milwaukee way back when).  Ray and his wife Ardis(sp?) who played a Victorian tour guide for many years in Savannah, were fixtures in Savannah and its incredible lifestyle. 

Ray was a gentle yet strong man -- always interested in the other person, even when their name(s) would sometimes elude him.  Ray finally got my name right -- after many weeks; even handling the intricate foreignness of my last name--Mrochinski.
I really appreciated the kindness and integrity that Ray possessed -- a real Rotarian, a kind and giving human being, an incredible example for others. Ray Woods passed away on April 10, 2013. Rest in Peace, my friend.   

Under Summer Dresses

Summer is that time of the year in the South -- where flirtation reigns, and all things happen that can happen, even though they probably shouldn't.

In my history there are plenty of moments of exploration and enlightenment about one or the other member of another gender that have gone on in the guise of summer romance. It's not the heat, or the slight tang of musk in the air, nor is it the humidity which collects and flows along every body that moves. It is more than physical elements -- it is also mental and emotional ones: longing, loneliness, too much time to recall and remember, and the desire to be ... happy again.

Human beings all flow towards happiness -- that desire to be fulfilled and smiling, giving and taking freely from someone who wants me and does the same. Under Summer Dresses lies the body -- the body is always there, clothed or not, warm or hot, cool or chilling quietly in a welcome breeze. Ovid knows the truth. Emily knows the truth but will not name it. Heat happens.

More Summer Dresses

She looked back now-- I saw it. Her eyes were thankful, as usual. 

Another she pressed her lips too long and too warmly -- I felt it.I would have missed my cue onstage -- that would not have been "Good!"   She wanted a connection then but I deferred for silly reasons of righteousness.

Another she came to my house on my birthday -- and took me out for ice cream. And I responded with a quick "good bye" even knowing she wanted something else.

A long-remembered she visited my house on the last day of her trip to Savannah; she stared at my house until I came out to greet her; then she ran away to her husband.

Another she leaped up and put her legs around my waist -- but it was intermission, and there was no time -- and there was also "too much time" between us.
So many "she's" but only one I called directly by that name -- She was mine.

In Time

Many names; many faces; many dreams -- lost or won; many angry moments; a few quiet loving moments; some excitement; lots of sameness; finding the spirit or energy of a moment is impossible without insight, introspection, and careful observation.

There is no "beating the clock." Eventually we will all wither, however slowly, and die. For some of us it will be today; for others an unexpected tomorrow. For a very few of us -- there will be a conscious choice -- life of death, heaven or hell, good or bad.  Choose wisely and well -- because once time runs out, there is no reprieve. 

Summer Dresses

Getting older probably increases the amount of vivid remembering that goes on during one's current days. So here I am -- getting older -- and remembering lots more clearly about a lot of things. I remember the temptations; I remember the sins! But most of all -- I remember all of the details, all of the details of all the decisions, all of the details of all of the big decisions, all of the details of all of the decisions that became big decisions -- that have affected my life to this day. 

There was a time when I asked a serious question -- that became a marriage proposal.  There was a time where I put my hand high on a smooth bare upper back, so that the hand didn't go too far South, and a very fervent embrace didn't become an immediate liaison. There was a time I resisted an insouciant doll face carelessly aimed sidelong with eyes still tracing mine -- so that I didn't fall into those grappling pools. There was a time I kept from instinctively touching those cute blue cotton running shorts -- forever pulling down the shield that only barely kept two humans apart. There was a time when dipping into the icy fall waters of the closer of the Interlochen lakes could not have cooled someone so young. There was a time that staring into the partially clothed  middle of a woman  desired would have been a betrayal -- of this desire, and another as well. There was a time when a teenager rushed into my arms and became my instant unrequited dream in a second. There were many such times -- real and partially imagined, realistic and yet unimaginable in their importance to me.

Often  I did not respond well to an unannounced kiss -- pleading moistly for another,  when I was so tunnelled into something else that I couldn't think. I regret those unfulfilled moments as well. The youngish sister, the playwright, the wouldbe lover.
So many moments; so many decisions; so many wins and losses.       

Sheila Lives

Sitting in my office and looking at Sheila's iconic "dancing" picture posted next to my clock -- always makes me skip a breath, silently think her name, wonder what might have been -- if she had lived. It is more than unlucky to get a terminal disease when you are young -- and especially if you have lived the kind of measured careful thoughtful life that should have earned you extra decades, instead of lost ones.

I loved Sheila then -- and still do now. I can't really explain why. The magic that we had was trust, and giving, and trying to understand. I don't know that we were perfect together -- mostly because we were such amateurs at what love really is. Too many times selfishness on both our parts, or reticence, or unsureness, or even fear --interfered with our surface communications. But inside -- we loved. In our hearts -- we loved. In our souls -- we understood what love means. We loved each other. 

The End of a Long Hard Day, Monday August 5, 2013

Today there was a good-bye luncheon for a beloved math teacher and leader at STC, Heather. Grades were also due today so (as an administriviator)I am dealing with the three people who do not have their grades in on time. There will be "hell to pay" if they don't catch up and get their responsibilities in order. 

Tomorrow Sarah (English Chair) heads off on her cruise to Northern Europe; wish and hope that she stays safe during a time of al-queda sabre rattling in the Middle East and Africa. Sarah seems to be handling her new administrative job about the same as I am --reluctantly and better than expected. She is too young and lively to be an administrator -- especially for no extra pay.

Besides all that I finished my SLOGS for this term and will send all that information to my Dean as soon as humanly possible.  "Humanly possible" -- somehow that phrase gets overlooked and made into a trite rejoinder in the midst of bureaucratic kerfuffle.      

On a Day Too Quickly Forgotten

Some days have more import than others. Some days cling in one's memory -- a day of lust perhaps, or a day of mourning, will haunt and sometimes totally reactivate your thinking. Other days are like this one -- no sense of deja vu here. No clinging memories or bright moments of incandescent strength here. Just ordinary -- heaps and heaps of ordinary. 

Don't know why that is. Don't understand the mechanics of changelessness -- the real shape of ordinary. But there it is. No romances will ever blossom on such a day. No spectacular decisions will be hammered home into a prescient outlook. Just the same. Today is just the same. The same as what, you ask?  The same as same -- ordinary.