On the Mend

My sister is "on the mend" from her infections and her operation(s).  I am extremely happy about all that. My daughter is completing the run of her production of "Love and Human Remains" in Chicago; and I am also happy about that.

And life goes on -- filled with all kinds of "hurry up's" and "wait's" and every other kind of complication. And I am extremely tolerant of all that. And life goes on.

I hope that Catherine, Caridad, Lois, Jen, Tina -- and about a hundred others, are as happy and fulfilled as they can be. They all deserve to be "happy."

Ticket to Ride

Think I'm gonna be sad, think it's todaaaaaay!  Old song lyrics die hard. What made me think of those lyrics was once again the callowness of youth in general. Not just tiny frog puppets are "green."  Kermit is everywhere. Lots of human beings are as well.

By being green they just don't "get" the passages that have pre-dated their own arrival. The Baby Boomers didn't get WWII!  The didn't get the sorrow and shame  (and happiness and pride) over Nagasaki and Hiroshima!  They didn't get slow music and ballads.  They didn't get women working.

And so the nation "flipped" over in values, thanks to our victories in the war, and the devouring consumerism that followed. Then came the backlash of the late 50's, the Bohemian/Hippie movement of the 60's, Vietnam, and the hell of a split country.

The 70's saw anti-Vietnam, Black Power, Feminism, Gay/Lesbian/Transgender parades, and the Rainbow coalition.  Then conservatism respread it's nasty wings -- and quick wars ensued: Desert Storm, Iraq II, Afghanistan and finally threats from ISIS, Russia, Iran, and everywhere else.

And the youth still don't get it. Nor do their middle age parents. And we all delude ourselves into thinking that somehow, some way, "we all have a 'ticket to ride.'"

Life, Death, Aging

As I cycle through my friends' social media accounts  I find no evidence of mortality, no cognizance of a time when they might get old(er), no understanding of "the passing of things."  Young people think they will be forever young, forever flirtatious, forever attractive.  Older people think they will always be at their best (which, of course, they are at right now). The oldest among us do understand -- but pathetically have no response to the process or the result.

I would like to change that in me. I would like to both understand and acknowledge that life is finite, that health is a gift of great value, that death may be an even bigger gift. We should all be learning to live while we are aging. We should all be conscious enough about life to take nothing for granted. We should all be kind enough to tolerate whatever lapses exist in others, and be mindful of the lapses we cannot see in ourselves. And so it goes.

Writing for Non-Publication

I write for my brain. Not for others.  I write because my brain needs to vent, or to cry, or to harp, or to plead, or to beg for forgiveness, or to end an argument.  I write to fulfill my need to complete a thought -- usually one that has been rumbling around my head for years. Or at least months.

I write to be free -- I write to understand that freedom -- I write for myself, not for others.

Why Interlochen is so "SAD" for Me

I taught there for 9 plus years.  I saw and encouraged a level and degree of talent I could have never encountered elsewhere outside of a Broadway or West End audition.  I created the classes; the curriculum; the audition process; the courses (mainly neatly plagiarized and redefined from other institutions; I put everything I knew or could learn into the building of that program at that time into that school.

And the world blinked and didn't care. People learned or didn't. People lived through it -- hating it or loving it -- and passed by.  People cherished their teachers, or other students, or the beauty of the whole thing. And passed by.

I taught there for 9 plus years. And I experienced terrible pain, wonderful exhilaration, outrageous elements of all the emotions. I stretched myself to teach on the highest possible level; I gave critiques on the most intimate and personal of elements. I gave my students everything I had. I tried to be truthful when other teachers were shamelessly pandering.  I tried to be honest when the outside world itself didn't know how to react. I tried to be "normal" in the face of precocious talent.

But the world passed by. And the students passed by. And only a few understood that what was done for them, and with them, was important and deep. And the world passed by, without comment.

Twitter and Instagram Universe

Am not sure how aware people are about their vulnerability on social media.  Government and private source warnings have gone out recently about hackers using "high speed" software to coalesce
and profile online users of social media.

By coupling this information with previously-available information from computer and software registrations and ownership -- very complete profiles of individuals can be built extremely quickly and confirmed by multiple digital and non-digital sources.  The point to all these warnings is the same: "you are not safe online." "Your information, pictures, captions, tweets, etc. are not safe online!" Your address and phone number(s) can be isolated; your identity uncovered; all the specifics of family, children, status, age, job, education, etc. etc. etc. can be compiled!!!

It is increasingly easy to find information about anyone -- and then find numerous ways to "troll," undermine, create strife for, and otherwise harm the person being profiled!!!! Wise up and don't use social media as a substitute for life.  Meet people in person; flirt in person; make friends (or enemies in person); the virtual and digital world allows anyone, anyone at all, to target you.

Back to Writing

The talk is of "racism!"  As it should be; as it should have been for the past 150 years. We need to open up and be truthful about our hopes, our fears, our tendencies, our proclivities, our sexism, our racism. Who we are is revealed by what we do!

Do you (or I) act like a racist; do we think in racial terms; do we stereotype people or cultures?  Can we admit to ourselves how we think? -- or are we so self-indulgent that we would always "blame others" for our opinions, no matter how misguided or offbeat they might be?

Can you love -- a person of another race? Can you tolerate "someone you don't like" as a human being, without reducing them to some kind of stereotype?

We all need to examine our own thinking -- and reduce our prejudices by excising them from our clear thinking and real experiences. Be a real human being; grow as a human being; learn to love, not just for Jesus' sake, but for your own and the good of all.