Nobody probably thought the Boat Crew would last this long, actually.
When four young couples from the same Cedar Rapids Lutheran church rented a houseboat and sailed up and down the Mississippi River for a long weekend in the summer of 1971, nobody probably even thought it was more than a one-time vacation.
But the couples invited more couples and did it again the next summer, and the next. Over time, a few couples came and went, but the tradition lived on summer after summer. Eventually a core group of seven couples emerged, and the Boat Crew was established … and a vital extended family was born.
Unofficially (or officially, depending on your personal opinion) the group’s name was the Mississippi River Marching and Drinking Society. But “Boat Crew” was easier to say. And less complicated to explain to the couples’ children, who were all about the age of the Boat Crew tradition itself.
As lives and careers evolved, many of the couples moved away … but everyone came back summer after summer for what had become an annual gathering of Boat Crew family with bonds as strong as any biological family.
And that family bond extended beyond the relationship between the seven couples; their children often spent the Boat Crew weekends together in one couple’s house, under the probably exhausted watch of two or three weekend-long babysitters.
Naturally, the kids developed a family bond as strong as their parents’. They were unofficial siblings in an extended family network, and they felt confident in the parental love they received from every member of the Boat Crew.
As the summers passed, the Boat Crew bond continued to grow and strengthen, especially over a developing collection of in-jokes, funny stories and traditions that became almost sacred. The most prominent tradition was Joy. It started when one couple brought a large white flag emblazoned with the word Joy in bright colors and displayed it on the ship’s mast. The flag appeared every summer, and eventually it inspired the regular exchanging of Joy-festooned knickknacks, shirts, Christmas ornaments (all collectively over the years described as "Joy shit") and even one summer little bottles of Joy dishwashing soap.
Music—an integral part of the Lutheran church where they all met—was just as important to the Boat Crew. The group contained many talented singers, and as they gathered under the stars with a guitar and a couple bottles of wine each summer, they sang hymns and folk songs and show tunes and whatever else they could think of. Their unofficial anthem was “Beautiful Savior,” which they sang together—in full, glorious harmony—on every gathering.
As the kids grew over the next four decades, the Boat Crew also started convening off-season for confirmations and graduations and weddings and grandchildren and the occasional family tragedy … and the inevitable deaths of the Boat Crew couples’ elderly parents.
And through it all, the Boat Crew became a bit of a statistical anomaly: seven couples who lived into their 50s and 60s and 70s and now 80s … and stayed friends … and stayed married … and stayed alive.
As they started to retire from their jobs and prioritize grandparent obligations over Boat Crew gatherings, the group wasn’t always able to find a summer weekend that all seven couples could attend. And the “boat” part of Boat Crew became a bit of an anachronism; the summer reunions were happening now in Bed and Breakfasts overlooking the Mississippi instead of boats on the Mississippi.
And as they started to navigate the medical infirmities and physical indignities that come with age, the Boat Crew members started to contemplate their own mortality. Never ones to face life with fear or even reverence, they were realistic that eventually they were going to start dying … and they were not above having betting pools over who would go first.
But it never occurred to anyone that the first to die might not be one of the adults.
Robbie (who as an adult called himself Robert but I’d known him since we were toddlers and I could never think of him as anyone but Robbie) was 42, pretty much right in the middle of the range of ages of the Boat Crew kids. He started getting sick seven years ago last summer, but he didn’t think it was much to worry about: just some lower back pain, fatigue and abdominal discomfort. But then the guy behind the Chicago neighborhood deli counter where he went every day told him he looked yellow. And he became painfully constipated. And on a trip home to see his parents in Iowa, he decided to see a doctor.
And that’s where he found out.
Colon cancer.
Stage 4.
Colon cancer patients at stage 4 have an 8-15% chance of being alive five years after diagnosis. And Robbie, forever the optimist, dove right into surgery and chemotherapy while his parents took care of him in their home.
But it quickly became obvious that he was losing the battle. And as he eventually slipped into a coma, his parents—buoyed by the love and calls and texts and emails of Boat Crew members across the country—kept a vigil by his bed.
And six weeks after his diagnosis—six weeks after driving himself and his two cats seven hours from Chicago to his parents’ house, five weeks after walking into the doctor’s office with what he thought were just stomach pains, three weeks after cheering on friends in the Chicago Marathon via Facebook—Robbie drew his last breath, sending waves of shock and devastation throughout his extended Boat Crew family.
Robbie’s father had died of cancer 40 years earlier, before the Boat Crew had been officially established. His widowed mother and the man who eventually became her next husband had been regular Boat Crew members from nearly the beginning.
While she was still single, though, she and Robbie had taken vacations with our family a number of times, often to Adventureland amusement park in Des Moines, Iowa, and once on a Bicentennial road trip to Philadelphia to see the Liberty Bell and to Washington, D.C., to see pretty much everything else associated with America’s birth.
Robbie and I went to different high schools and colleges, but we eventually both found our ways to Chicago. We kept seeing each other at Boat Crew gatherings, but we’d slowly drifted apart … as had many of the Boat Crew kids as we scattered about the country and built our own families.
Robbie’s parents and mine, of course, had stayed fast Boat Crew friends. And when Robbie was facing the first weeks of his cancer treatments, my parents made a trip to Des Moines to stay with them.
Robbie died eight years ago today. Even though I knew it was inevitable, I was more choked up than I’d expected to be when I got the call. We hadn’t seen each other in probably eight years. And I knew that he was no longer suffering through an excruciating illness. But his death—especially as a Boat Crew kid and not an adult—was a shock to all of us … and an indescribable devastation to his parents. And though nobody in the extended Boat Crew family has died since Robbie did, we are all tacitly preparing ourselves for the next passing.
But for the first time in many years, the entire Boat Crew—along with a handful of Boat Crew kids—dropped everything in their lives and appeared at the funeral. Forever part of the family, we walked in with Robbie’s parents and biological family members and were seated right behind them. And when the congregation sang “Beautiful Savior,” the Boat Crew’s beautiful harmonies rose above the music as if to lift Robbie to whatever awaited him in the afterlife and remind him of the loving extended family he’d been a part of on earth.
His parents asked me to be one of his pall bearers, which I accepted as an honor. Escorting a lifelong friend to his grave is overwhelming—especially when we’re both so young—but I felt giving him a solemn, respectful final journey was the best gift I could give him. He was family, after all.
Showing posts with label singing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label singing. Show all posts
Saturday, October 26, 2019
Saturday, July 13, 2019
Sunday, March 31, 2019
It’s my 15th Cedar Rapids Follies!
Now the house lights have dimmed, the audience has hushed, the curtain speech is underway and our final first downbeat is in 3 ... 2 ... 1 ...
Tuesday, March 26, 2019
I am where I wanna be
Monday, March 25, 2019
My Paramount Theatre office view for the next week as a Cedar Rapids Follies pit singer:
Saturday, March 23, 2019
I never knew that crooning the theme to Love Boat with a full orchestra was at the top of my bucket list, but I just found out it was and I JUST CROSSED IT OFF
Our soloist is in for a supreme treat when he croons it onstage. All we'll be missing is a cameo by Adrienne Barbeau.
Follies pit singer sitzprobe!
Or you could say Fpitzprobe. But no, you should really never say Fpitzprobe.
Monday, March 11, 2019
#SparksOfJoy: A weekly post about something that makes me happy
Stephen Sondheim: "Another Hundred People" from Company (Original Broadway Cast Recording): Singer Pamela Myers has an old-school Broadway belt that powers effortlessly over a driving, layered, brilliantly contrapuntal orchestral score in this sometimes sad, sometimes hopeful, sometimes resigned Greek-chorus anthem to the unavoidable loneliness and transience in a massive city of strangers. But despite its surface melancholy, the song maintains an undercurrent of optimism and even joy from its first social observation all the way through to its brassy, triumphant, take-no-prisoners conclusion that will leave you breathless.
Friday, January 25, 2019
10 things I remember about my Grandma Stigers
1. She made peach preserves in enormous glass jars every year to share with everyone in the family. Each jar had a cinnamon stick in it, which I thought was weird as a kid because cinnamon of course doesn't go with peaches but that never stopped me from piling indulgent amounts of the preserves on everything I could think of.
2. When her daughter--a young mother--lost her husband to cancer, my grandparents renovated their basement to give her and her kids a free, safe place to live so they could care for them until they recovered and got back on their feet.
3. She put up with my dad--who even by his own accounts was a handful and a seeker of trouble and somebody I probably wouldn't have liked if we'd been peers--and turned him into the father I love and respect and look up to today.
4. She loved to sing. Oh, how she loved to sing. Her rich contralto filled her church when she sang hymns and filled her home whenever we gathered around her piano or the gorgeous antique pump organ she had that was never in tune and virtually impossible to play but it never mattered because she was so full of joy from singing.
5. Her hair was so gray that it went beyond silver into the realm of misty purple-blue. And she had a wardrobe of purple clip-on earrings that always matched her hair perfectly.
6. She and my grandfather had a little black mutt named Rags, who was sweet and attentive and docile but always kinda smelled like he needed a bath.
7. She loved to make ceramics for people and she actually had a kiln in her basement. She'd paint and glaze each piece, etch her name and the year on the bottom, and fire up beautiful ornaments and decorations that I'm sure still grace the homes of friends and extended family from coast to coast.
8. She had a dishwasher that rolled around the kitchen and connected to the sink faucet with a hose. This really has nothing to do with her as a person, but when you're a kid and your grandmother has a dishwasher that rolls around the kitchen and connects to the sink faucet with a hose, that makes her pretty darn interesting.
9. She was unfortunately enthusiastic about thumping us kids on the head with her finger or some other small weapon--both as punishment and for her own entertainment. She called herself Granny Great-Thump. We called her Granny Great-Rump.
10. She and my grandfather had an enclosed back porch that ran nearly the entire length of their house, with enough room for a long table and plenty of chairs for feeding a steady parade of family and friends. They even had tiny paper lanterns hanging from the ceiling, which I always thought made the place extra-festive.
Grandma died 20 years ago today, after living trapped in the aftermath of a stroke for many months. She lived exponentially farther away from me than my other grandmother when I was a kid, so I didn't see her as often and I never really felt like I knew her. But she influenced my dad to be the kind, loving, decent, respected man he is, and I hope to think he's influenced me to be the same. So she lives on in our hearts and in our family and in yet another generation as my niece and nephew carry on the examples of kindness and love and decency that she lived.
2. When her daughter--a young mother--lost her husband to cancer, my grandparents renovated their basement to give her and her kids a free, safe place to live so they could care for them until they recovered and got back on their feet.
3. She put up with my dad--who even by his own accounts was a handful and a seeker of trouble and somebody I probably wouldn't have liked if we'd been peers--and turned him into the father I love and respect and look up to today.
4. She loved to sing. Oh, how she loved to sing. Her rich contralto filled her church when she sang hymns and filled her home whenever we gathered around her piano or the gorgeous antique pump organ she had that was never in tune and virtually impossible to play but it never mattered because she was so full of joy from singing.
5. Her hair was so gray that it went beyond silver into the realm of misty purple-blue. And she had a wardrobe of purple clip-on earrings that always matched her hair perfectly.
6. She and my grandfather had a little black mutt named Rags, who was sweet and attentive and docile but always kinda smelled like he needed a bath.
7. She loved to make ceramics for people and she actually had a kiln in her basement. She'd paint and glaze each piece, etch her name and the year on the bottom, and fire up beautiful ornaments and decorations that I'm sure still grace the homes of friends and extended family from coast to coast.
8. She had a dishwasher that rolled around the kitchen and connected to the sink faucet with a hose. This really has nothing to do with her as a person, but when you're a kid and your grandmother has a dishwasher that rolls around the kitchen and connects to the sink faucet with a hose, that makes her pretty darn interesting.
9. She was unfortunately enthusiastic about thumping us kids on the head with her finger or some other small weapon--both as punishment and for her own entertainment. She called herself Granny Great-Thump. We called her Granny Great-Rump.
10. She and my grandfather had an enclosed back porch that ran nearly the entire length of their house, with enough room for a long table and plenty of chairs for feeding a steady parade of family and friends. They even had tiny paper lanterns hanging from the ceiling, which I always thought made the place extra-festive.
Grandma died 20 years ago today, after living trapped in the aftermath of a stroke for many months. She lived exponentially farther away from me than my other grandmother when I was a kid, so I didn't see her as often and I never really felt like I knew her. But she influenced my dad to be the kind, loving, decent, respected man he is, and I hope to think he's influenced me to be the same. So she lives on in our hearts and in our family and in yet another generation as my niece and nephew carry on the examples of kindness and love and decency that she lived.
Tuesday, January 15, 2019
OK ... I'll jump on the bandwagon:
THEATRE EXPERIENCES SURVEY
1. Played a murderer - yes
2. Played an animal - no
3. Played a character opposite your gender - in a couple of drag cabaret shows
4. Worked with an Oscar/Tony/Emmy winner - not that I’m aware of
5. Undressed on stage - oh yes … and I’m about to again
6. Had a stage kiss - yes
7. Played a ghost - no
8. Been a stage manager – no
9. Been on tech crew – in high school, and I will again in a few months
10. Worn fake eyeglasses – yes
11. Worn contact lenses – in one eye that was supposed to be blind
12. Been in a staged fight - yes
13. Missed a cue - just a few lines over the years
14. Walked off stage during a scene to fix your costume - no
15. Scolded someone for touching your prop? – gently
16. Been in a musical – DUH
17. Been in a Shakespeare production – just in a few isolated scenes
18. Forgotten a line on stage - yes
19. Forgotten a prop on stage – no
20. Had a wardrobe malfunction on stage - a hat with a wig glued inside it once fell off my head
21. Been nude on stage - starting January 25 at Theatre Cedar Rapids!
22. Eaten real food on stage - no
23. Choked on real food during a show on stage - also no
25. Been injured during a show - nothing serious
26. Torn up the set by accident onstage during a show - no
27. Broken a prop onstage during a show - indirectly
28. Had a nosebleed onstage - no
29. Played a character of a different race – no
30. Been paid for a performance - yes
31. Played a musical instrument for a performance - yes
32. Sung in a show – DUH
33. Farted on stage during a show - gross, no
34. Made noise backstage during a show – only on purpose
35. Cut your hair onstage during a show - no
36. Simulated sex onstage - no
37. Ad-libbed until another actor made his/her entrance - yes
38. Played a child – only when I was an actual child
39. Been punched in the face accidentally onstage - no
40. Played a lawyer – no
41. Killed another character on stage - only offstage, if that counts
42. Died on stage – almost, if that counts
43. Played a drunk on stage – yes
44. Choreographed a show – not a formal musical, but I’ve co-choreographed Follies and choreographed more show choirs than I can remember
45. Directed a show – no
46. Designed a set - only in my head
47. Helped build a set - yes
48. Ushered/house managed a show – no
50. Helped make costumes for a show - emphasis on helped
51. Experienced effects of a theater ghost - I don’t believe in ghosts
52. Done a lighting design - no
53. Done sound design - no
54. Used dialects – extremely, extremely poorly
55. Gotten a bad review – not that I can remember
56. Done children's theater – yes
57. Worked with animals - no
58. Improvised to cover a technical issue – just broken props
59. Performed in outdoor theater - no
60. Fired a prop gun onstage - I’ve held many prop guns on stage, but I don’t remember having to fire any
1. Played a murderer - yes
2. Played an animal - no
3. Played a character opposite your gender - in a couple of drag cabaret shows
4. Worked with an Oscar/Tony/Emmy winner - not that I’m aware of
5. Undressed on stage - oh yes … and I’m about to again
6. Had a stage kiss - yes
7. Played a ghost - no
8. Been a stage manager – no
9. Been on tech crew – in high school, and I will again in a few months
10. Worn fake eyeglasses – yes
11. Worn contact lenses – in one eye that was supposed to be blind
12. Been in a staged fight - yes
13. Missed a cue - just a few lines over the years
14. Walked off stage during a scene to fix your costume - no
15. Scolded someone for touching your prop? – gently
16. Been in a musical – DUH
17. Been in a Shakespeare production – just in a few isolated scenes
18. Forgotten a line on stage - yes
19. Forgotten a prop on stage – no
20. Had a wardrobe malfunction on stage - a hat with a wig glued inside it once fell off my head
21. Been nude on stage - starting January 25 at Theatre Cedar Rapids!
22. Eaten real food on stage - no
23. Choked on real food during a show on stage - also no
25. Been injured during a show - nothing serious
26. Torn up the set by accident onstage during a show - no
27. Broken a prop onstage during a show - indirectly
28. Had a nosebleed onstage - no
29. Played a character of a different race – no
30. Been paid for a performance - yes
31. Played a musical instrument for a performance - yes
32. Sung in a show – DUH
33. Farted on stage during a show - gross, no
34. Made noise backstage during a show – only on purpose
35. Cut your hair onstage during a show - no
36. Simulated sex onstage - no
37. Ad-libbed until another actor made his/her entrance - yes
38. Played a child – only when I was an actual child
39. Been punched in the face accidentally onstage - no
40. Played a lawyer – no
41. Killed another character on stage - only offstage, if that counts
42. Died on stage – almost, if that counts
43. Played a drunk on stage – yes
44. Choreographed a show – not a formal musical, but I’ve co-choreographed Follies and choreographed more show choirs than I can remember
45. Directed a show – no
46. Designed a set - only in my head
47. Helped build a set - yes
48. Ushered/house managed a show – no
50. Helped make costumes for a show - emphasis on helped
51. Experienced effects of a theater ghost - I don’t believe in ghosts
52. Done a lighting design - no
53. Done sound design - no
54. Used dialects – extremely, extremely poorly
55. Gotten a bad review – not that I can remember
56. Done children's theater – yes
57. Worked with animals - no
58. Improvised to cover a technical issue – just broken props
59. Performed in outdoor theater - no
60. Fired a prop gun onstage - I’ve held many prop guns on stage, but I don’t remember having to fire any
Monday, December 31, 2018
I’m wearing my natty bow tie to the Kristin Chenoweth concert tonight because that’s how to make the evening extra-gay
Saturday, December 29, 2018
Things I’ve accomplished today:
• Had my first formal voice lesson in 30 years, and already determined some bad habits I can start working on unlearning
• Went to Target and bought only what was on my list
• Did my first leg workout since I started running last spring ... and freaking KILLED my legs without sacrificing proper form
• Accepted a very romantic marriage proposal from one of my 934 freakishly hunky gym crushes as all the rest of the guys in the gym struggled to mask their jealousy through forced smiles and wan applause*
• Attended a Full Monty line bash where I remembered more of my lines than I’d expected
• Sat down and actually played the piano for the first time in months as an overture (for lack of a less obvious metaphor) to my New Year’s resolution to practice with specific regularity
• Made it to my 11th day without having Diet Coke
• Wrote a blog post that doesn’t use the word “boobies”
• Oops
• Didn’t kill anyone intentionally
• Did some laundry without expecting a gold star on my chores chart
• Boobies
• Oops again
* This one is a total fucking lie
• Went to Target and bought only what was on my list
• Did my first leg workout since I started running last spring ... and freaking KILLED my legs without sacrificing proper form
• Accepted a very romantic marriage proposal from one of my 934 freakishly hunky gym crushes as all the rest of the guys in the gym struggled to mask their jealousy through forced smiles and wan applause*
• Attended a Full Monty line bash where I remembered more of my lines than I’d expected
• Sat down and actually played the piano for the first time in months as an overture (for lack of a less obvious metaphor) to my New Year’s resolution to practice with specific regularity
• Made it to my 11th day without having Diet Coke
• Wrote a blog post that doesn’t use the word “boobies”
• Oops
• Didn’t kill anyone intentionally
• Did some laundry without expecting a gold star on my chores chart
• Boobies
• Oops again
Thursday, November 29, 2018
Fun fact:
But it’s really there so we can see if he ever picks his nose.
Saturday, October 13, 2018
Well, I was SUPPOSED to see A Star Is Born tonight
But they must have mislabeled the theater we went into, because instead we saw Bradley Cooper: A Study In Blue Eyes, Distracting Abs And All Around Male Perfection And Oh Yeah Lady Gaga Is Freaking Awesome Too But We Already Knew That So Let’s Get Back To How Much I’m Going To Marry Bradley Cooper.
The movie really is pretty awesome. The singing, the beautifully intertwined rhythms of joy and humor and emotion and pathos, the creative range of camera work, the slightly dusty palette ... THE SINGING. My only criticism is that it feels a titch long toward the end, and I found myself ready for whatever was going to happen to hurry up and happen before I started losing sympathy for the characters.
Plus their puppy kind of got uglier as it grew into a dog. But that’s just a kibble.
Plus their puppy kind of got uglier as it grew into a dog. But that’s just a kibble.
Tuesday, September 25, 2018
Embarrassing secret:
I’ve been marking awkward tight intervals in vocal music with w’s and 1/2’s since grade-school choir. And it still works for me. And it’s too late to stop now.
Saturday, September 15, 2018
These people
Sunday, May 20, 2018
What’s more shocking:
I blithely voted for the Iowa girl on American Idol just because she’s from Iowa or I’m hip and cool enough to even know what American Idol is?
Thursday, January 25, 2018
10 things I remember about my Grandma Marie
1. She made peach preserves in enormous glass jars every year to share with everyone in the family. Each jar had a cinnamon stick in it, which I thought was weird as a kid because cinnamon of course doesn't go with peaches but that never stopped me from piling indulgent amounts of the preserves on everything I could think of.
2. When her daughter -- a young mother -- lost her husband to cancer, my grandparents renovated their basement to give her and her kids a free, safe place to live so they could care for them until they recovered and got back on their feet.
3. She put up with my dad -- who even by his own accounts was a handful and a seeker of trouble and somebody I probably wouldn't have liked if we'd been peers -- and turned him into the father I love and respect and look up to today.
4. She loved to sing. Oh, how she loved to sing. Her rich contralto filled her church when she sang hymns and filled her home whenever we gathered around her piano or the gorgeous antique pump organ she had that was never in tune and virtually impossible to play but it never mattered because she was so full of joy from singing.
5. Her hair was so gray that it went beyond silver into the realm of misty purple-blue. And she had a wardrobe of purple clip-on earrings that always matched her hair perfectly.
6. She and my grandfather had a little black mutt named Rags, who was sweet and attentive and docile but always kinda smelled like he needed a bath.
7. She loved to make ceramics for people and she actually had a kiln in her basement. She'd paint and glaze each piece, etch her name and the year on the bottom, and fire up beautiful ornaments and decorations that I'm sure still grace the homes of friends and extended family from coast to coast.
8. She had a dishwasher that rolled around the kitchen and connected to the sink faucet with a hose. This really has nothing to do with her as a person, but when you're a kid and your grandmother has a dishwasher that rolls around the kitchen and connects to the sink faucet with a hose, that makes her pretty darn interesting.
9. She was unfortunately enthusiastic about thumping us kids on the head with her finger or some other small weapon -- both as punishment and for her own entertainment. She called herself Granny Great-Thump. We called her Granny Great-Rump.
10. She and my grandfather had an enclosed back porch that ran nearly the entire length of their house, with enough room for a long table and plenty of chairs for feeding a steady parade of family and friends. They even had tiny paper lanterns hanging from the ceiling, which I always thought made the place extra-festive.
Grandma died 19 years ago today, after living trapped in the aftermath of a stroke for many months. She lived exponentially farther away from me than my other grandmother when I was a kid, so I didn't see her as often and I never really felt like I knew her. But she influenced my dad to be the kind, loving, decent, respected man he is, and I hope to think he's influenced me to be the same. So she lives on in our hearts and in our family and in yet another generation as my niece and nephew carry on the examples of kindness and love and decency that she lived.
2. When her daughter -- a young mother -- lost her husband to cancer, my grandparents renovated their basement to give her and her kids a free, safe place to live so they could care for them until they recovered and got back on their feet.
3. She put up with my dad -- who even by his own accounts was a handful and a seeker of trouble and somebody I probably wouldn't have liked if we'd been peers -- and turned him into the father I love and respect and look up to today.
4. She loved to sing. Oh, how she loved to sing. Her rich contralto filled her church when she sang hymns and filled her home whenever we gathered around her piano or the gorgeous antique pump organ she had that was never in tune and virtually impossible to play but it never mattered because she was so full of joy from singing.
5. Her hair was so gray that it went beyond silver into the realm of misty purple-blue. And she had a wardrobe of purple clip-on earrings that always matched her hair perfectly.
6. She and my grandfather had a little black mutt named Rags, who was sweet and attentive and docile but always kinda smelled like he needed a bath.
7. She loved to make ceramics for people and she actually had a kiln in her basement. She'd paint and glaze each piece, etch her name and the year on the bottom, and fire up beautiful ornaments and decorations that I'm sure still grace the homes of friends and extended family from coast to coast.
8. She had a dishwasher that rolled around the kitchen and connected to the sink faucet with a hose. This really has nothing to do with her as a person, but when you're a kid and your grandmother has a dishwasher that rolls around the kitchen and connects to the sink faucet with a hose, that makes her pretty darn interesting.
9. She was unfortunately enthusiastic about thumping us kids on the head with her finger or some other small weapon -- both as punishment and for her own entertainment. She called herself Granny Great-Thump. We called her Granny Great-Rump.
10. She and my grandfather had an enclosed back porch that ran nearly the entire length of their house, with enough room for a long table and plenty of chairs for feeding a steady parade of family and friends. They even had tiny paper lanterns hanging from the ceiling, which I always thought made the place extra-festive.
Grandma died 19 years ago today, after living trapped in the aftermath of a stroke for many months. She lived exponentially farther away from me than my other grandmother when I was a kid, so I didn't see her as often and I never really felt like I knew her. But she influenced my dad to be the kind, loving, decent, respected man he is, and I hope to think he's influenced me to be the same. So she lives on in our hearts and in our family and in yet another generation as my niece and nephew carry on the examples of kindness and love and decency that she lived.
Sunday, December 17, 2017
Our final cast picture from our final performance as a team before we all get drafted into ... um, wherever it is that singing, dancing hockey players get drafted into
Saturday, December 16, 2017
Oh, nothing
Just wiping the last of the slavish devotion that got all over me during my 2,000-seat standing ovation. How was YOUR night?
And how sweet is this hockey gig? We wait in our lavishly appointed dressing room sipping complimentary RC products and getting unlimited tarot readings until we’re summoned to star in the second-to-last number, catch our breath during the last number, and then soak up cheering applause in my beloved Paramount Theatre as Orchestra Iowa plays a robustly joyful “Sleigh Ride” mere feet behind us. Just getting to stand on the Paramount stage is all I need to brighten my whole week ... but RC PRODUCTS TOO?
Also, how adorable is my mom’s childhood toy Rudolph (or maybe it’s just a charmingly disfigured dog — the jury’s still out) that we recently found buried in a box of stuff and added to our standard under-tree decoration collection? It’s twice as old as I am, but we both still look 28 — which is more like 25 when we’re not in the direct glare of the tree lights.
And how sweet is this hockey gig? We wait in our lavishly appointed dressing room sipping complimentary RC products and getting unlimited tarot readings until we’re summoned to star in the second-to-last number, catch our breath during the last number, and then soak up cheering applause in my beloved Paramount Theatre as Orchestra Iowa plays a robustly joyful “Sleigh Ride” mere feet behind us. Just getting to stand on the Paramount stage is all I need to brighten my whole week ... but RC PRODUCTS TOO?
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