I ran into this fabulous, back-home-in-Iowa-for-a-visit L.A. actor tonight at my first-ever Brucemore Cabaret in the Courtyard

Cabaret in the Courtyard is a longstanding series of summer concerts in one of the well-appointed courtyards on the historic Brucemore mansion grounds. Tonight’s event was Cabaret in the Courtyard: Before Broadway, showcasing two different musical works-in-progress written by two of Cedar Rapids’ preeminent musical-treasure composers and played and sung by a firmament of Cedar Rapids’ musical talents.

The entire evening—from the venue to the creative material to the performers to the technical production to the steadfastly enthusiastic audience—was breathtaking.

I’m embarrassment-of-riches lucky enough that after all the shows and theater companies I’ve gotten to be a part of here, I usually on some level know almost everyone involved in the shows I see in the area. Tonight though, I knew just a handful of people on the stage ... but I knew an overwhelming majority of people in the audience. There were dear friends and lovely acquaintances at almost every table, and the fact that not only were we all experiencing a magical evening together but that I also got to see so many people I truly cherish at once was both joyful and humbling. Add to that the fact that the show was a transcendent collaboration of creative and performing talent by people I know and respect and have on many occasions had the pleasure to work with, and the evening was an absolute joy from start to finish.

Except for the fact that I feel like I talked to everyone and had a conversation with no one. I honestly felt rude at times from all the distractions and half-hellos I was juggling. So if you’re still reading this far despite your white-hot fury over my disjointed conversation with you tonight, I apologize. Let’s just focus on that AMAZING SHOW.

And also on the delightful-surprise friends like Jesse here, who—after patiently let me take a second selfie with him so I could make sure the courtyard gable was centered behind us—helped make the night such a treat.

Come to Brie, Bend to Brie

Seeing an opera company perform Brigadoon at a gorgeous outdoor theater with a picnic of deviled eggs and hard-to-pronounce cheeses and residual glue in your hair from the matinee of your own show is an opportunity that presents itself only once every hundred years.

The first floor of my beloved Brucemore

Flashback Sunday: Exhibition Edition

A year ago tonight I was sitting with thousands of my closest friends on the vast lawn of the Brucemore mansion historical site listening to the final summer outdoor concert of the mighty Orchestra Iowa. The concert is cleverly called Brucemorchestra, and it's an epic, pull-out-the-stops evening of glorious music and literally glowing civic pride.

Last year's concert finished with Modest Mussorgsky's mighty "Pictures at an Exhibition," which wavers over the years on and off top 10 favorite orchestral works. It was originally written just for piano in 1874 as a musical narrative of -- you guessed it -- pictures at an art exhibition. The work comprises a series of short pieces that musically describe the separate works of art in the exhibition, and they're all connected by endless variations on a theme called "Promenade" ... which is basically just music to accompany you as you walk from picture to picture.

There are probably 40 orchestral arrangements of this piano work that have been scored in the century-plus time since it was written. Impressionist Maurice Ravel's gloriously brass-heavy version written in 1922 is arguably the most popular, and not only is it my favorite but it was the version Orchestra Iowa played a year ago on the Brucemore lawn.

And if that weren't enough to make me geek out like a giddy schoolboy at orchestra prom, the director told us all to light up our phones and wave them rock-concert-style during the epic (and earth-shakingly brass-heavy) last mini-movement celebrating the dramatic picture of the Great Gate of Kiev. Which as you might guess put me on ridiculous-joy overload as the brass thundered through us to rattle our bones and the gleeful audience alternated between waving our phones and taking pictures of the glorious spectacle and I pretty much experienced the Rapture. (And you know what? Kirk Cameron wasn't there. And neither was Donald Trump.)

And now it's safe to say "Pictures at an Exhibition" is solidly back in my top 10 favorite orchestral works. And I probably need to charge my phone again.