Make ‘Em Laugh

Paris Opera, circa 1860

Yesterday I went with my father to a play for Father’s Day.

I know a lot of people will be thinking, “fun,” or, “lucky.” But let me admit that I approach these theater outings with a large dose of trepidation, even dread. That’s because my father’s tastes are very highbrow and serious, so the plays he selects are usually 100 minutes of grim, shattering realism.

And, unfortunately, I don’t drink. Nor do I keep any leftover painkillers to pop beforehand. Damn laws.

So as excellent as these productions are, I secretly call it Unhappiness Theatre.

In the past when we’ve gone to Unhappiness Theatre we’ve seen plays about a terrible marriages, sexual abuse by a priest, dementia, suicide and A Man Who Cannot Love. Oh, yeah, also the Holocaust.

So imagine my surprise when I got to Unhappiness Theatre yesterday and saw they were actually staging a comedy. It was a sendup of a number of famous American plays, with fantastic actors, so it was very funny. The narrator described two of the characters, a married couple, thus: “their hobbies are alcohol and resentment.”

Words that describe probably half of the characters in the plays usually put on by Unhappiness Theatre.

So, it was doubly fun in that setting. The audience left happy. Even my dad was delighted.  Everyone likes to laugh.

My dad did not know, however, that the words they said at the end, and the song they played were from the movie The Breakfast Club. That’s the only allusion I got that he didn’t. And I did not tell him, either. That might have ruined it for him.

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Lithograph of the Paris Opera [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

 

Father’s Day

neckties

It’s Father’s Day here, and I’m lucky enough that I can still celebrate with my father. I’ve been thinking it must be hard to be a father, because you have so much responsibility and you’re expected to be the strong, invulnerable one. At least, that’s how my father has always been. So this Father’s Day, I wanted to say some things about him.

1. We have very few mutual interests and our tastes are generally opposite. If he likes it, it usually pains me, and if I like it, it definitely irritates him. He enjoys classical music concerts and plays like Strindberg’s Dance of Death. I like “horrible music,” sports and movies with Matt Damon or George Clooney.

2.  Except we both like the Chicago Bears. But I got that from him.

3.  He’s practically a genius, and definitely a polymath. That’s another thing we don’t have in common. When I was struggling through Latin in middle school, he still remembered it from his own school days, 40 years earlier. He has designed and built home additions, and he can learnedly discuss the sources of Rachmaninoff’s All-Night Vigil or the victory chances of a particular political candidate. And he’s a talented artist.

4. He  has always loved to drive, but he fancies himself “a race car driver.” (His actual words.) I remember practically praying for survival on “vacations” as our car whipped and slipped around winding mountain roads with no guardrails. One station wagon did end up on its side in a ditch in Wisconsin, but luckily the glaciers had been there first, so there were no mountains to crash down.

5. But apart from the hellacious driving, my father has always done the right thing, not the easy thing. He’s always up for new experiences. He’s always treated strangers as friends. He’s always thought everyone is equal. He’s always had a fierce social conscience. He’s always taken care of the extended family, from the oldest to the youngest. He’s never called attention to anything about himself, or wanted a fuss made. He’s just a really good person.

The Mark Twain Cure

Montblanc BMW writing sample

I have been in something of a reading funk for the last four months, but I recently found a book I sped through with a smile: a collection of Mark Twain quotes.

Like the foregoing, which is certainly my motto: “Do not put off until tomorrow what can be put until day-after-tomorrow.”

And this one, which encapsulates my pen and ink problem, but makes me feel better about it:  “A human being has a natural desire to have more of a good thing than he needs.”

Caran d'Ache Divine Pink writing sample

And then there’s this comment that Twain had Satan make to a newcomer to Hell.

Parker Penman Sapphire writing sample

I guess even in the late 1800s and early 1900s, we Chicagoans must have been enthusiastic civic boosters, and a little hard to take.

Ah well, we love our city. At least we’re number one.

Words of Wisdom to Kick Off Another Week

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“With my experience of social media, I thought that idiots were going to idiot.”

JK Rowling

I love this woman. Every time I read something she says, I think, “perfect.” Then, “I need to remember that and use it sometime.”

In this case, Rowling was talking about an upset that arose in some people’s minds when the director of a new Harry Potter play cast as Hermione Granger an award-winning actress, who happens to be black.

I love Rowling’s almost zen-like acceptance here. It’s just a fact: idiots are going to idiot. But thank goodness most of us aren’t idiots.

I wish I could see the play. It’s neat to think of everyone all grown up. And Ron and Hermione look great up there. I couldn’t ever really see Emma Watson and Rupert Grint together, but those two make sense to me. I’m feeling a little cursed myself, for living an ocean away from the West End.

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Photo of the Granger-Weasley family from the Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Twitter account

 

Wednesday Realization: Milestones

I’ve liked almost everything about being a parent. Except when they got in trouble. Or got croup in the middle of the night. Or that time one of them gave us all stomach flu. Or when they broke a bone. Or broke our cars. Or their own hearts.

Okay, so I didn’t love everything. Most things, though, were pretty great.

But the best part of being a parent has been watching them grow into their own personalities and their own lives. Yesterday my son finished his freshman year of college. That feels like adulthood.  That’s neat.

Things I Learned Last Week

spice drawer

1. It can be dangerous to alphabetize your spice drawer. Because that puts the cinnamon next to the chili powder. This all you need for an early morning “haven’t had my coffee yet” mistake.  Trust me.

2. I went to a pen club meeting last Sunday, and everyone there had beautiful handwriting. I want to find a meeting of doctors.

3. Does this ever happen to you? You start saying something and realize almost instantly … whoops. Wrong words, wrong audience. No way to finish this with grace.

Well, the other day I was thinking of the group TV on the Radio and I started singing, kind of to myself, but with my husband and kids around, the song Red Dress. And then I get to a part of the chorus that goes, “Come bear witness to the whore of Babylon.”

Let me just say: if you want everyone to stop what they are doing, and look up at you as if you have lost your mind, this is perfect.

All Those Years Ago

Today is the 400th anniversary of William Shakespeare’s death. Sonnet 18 seems especially apt:

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date;
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm’d;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm’d;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;
Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

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Image in the public domain via Wikimedia Commons

Three Questions That Could Solve Any Problem

 

Isn’t that an excellent headline? Actually, I found it on the BBC website. Intrigued, I of course clicked on the article it referred to. Who wouldn’t want to solve any problem with just three questions?

Unfortunately, the article itself was a bit of a letdown for me.  Not that I really read it. It seemed to be aimed at businesses, not people. Every other sentence I skimmed contained words like “company” or “work” or “colleague.” Yawn.

Seriously, I’m sure it’s an excellent article. But any business article would be pretty much of a letdown after such a grabber of a headline.

But of course it got me thinking.  What if only three questions would give you the solution to every pressing issue?  What if you could flow chart your way to a better life?

And, you know, I think you can.  You just need better questions.

It turns out that when I thought of the problems I seem to habitually encounter, it was pretty easy to come up with many sets of three questions.  In hopes these may have general applicability, I will share them now.

Three Questions That Could Solve Any Problem:

Is my credit limit high enough?

Will my spouse find out?

Will he/she actually divorce me for this?

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How quickly can I get out of here?

Are there any witnesses?

In the event there are unseen witnesses, could I explain it away?

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Is it a disagreeable task?

Can I do it tomorrow instead?

Can I never do it?

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Do I want to eat this food?

Do I fit in my pants?

Could I buy new pants?

 

 

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Image by Gnome-help-faq.svg: Rocket000, Palosirkka derivative work: Ukko.de GNOME icon artists [CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0), LGPL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/lgpl.html) or GPL (http://www.gnu.org/licenses/gpl.html)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

Not Fortune’s Fool, Not I

Fortune cookie fortune

Fortune may be fickle, but I always enjoy a fortune cookie. Here’s the one I got yesterday, which is very inspiring.  Like, crush it. Life is a banquet. That kind of spirit.

Except for me it’s a teeny bit of a buzzkill.  See, I was totally planning to sneak a visit to the Montblanc Boutique, to look at the new Heritage Collection Rouge et Noir pens.  But looking at pens I cannot afford would not be something new.  It seems like that fortune cookie was trying to tell me something.

So, change of plans.

The trouble is, I don’t actually want to zipline or parachute or anything adventurously new.  Well, I would be willing to go clubbing.  But it’s Wednesday, and I have to drive carpool for my kids, and I just think it would be hard to fit in a satisfactory amount of clubbing before 3 p.m., so that’s out.

So yeah.

So I’ve settled on … wait for it: healthy eating.  Oh yeah.

And sure, maybe it sounds terrible. Like you know you’re old when “healthy eating” is your “try something new.”  As if anyone needs actual fun when you can eat kale, right?  And I hate being healthy. I like chocolate.

But I’m just going to pretend it’s fun. Right?  I’ll do the wild and crazy version of healthy eating.  Pumped up healthy eating.  Healthy eating like a boss.  Crush it.