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Dec 10 2014
Love0

VIEW FROM ACROSS THE POND: I AM IN CHARGE

By Joe Cillo

I AM IN CHARGE

There is nothing in the world to which every man
Has a more unassailable title than to his own life.
Arthur Schopenhauer

My friend Helen Osterman was 86 years old when her husband died.  “Now, it’s my turn,” she told me.  “I cannot wait to join him.”

I was 28 when she told me that and I was appalled.  I could not imagine anyone wanting to die.  The urge to live is so strong in us all, I could not believe that someone who was in good health would choose to end it all.  Besides, I did not believe you went anywhere when you were dead.  I thought it was a final finish.

I know now that what you believe is what will happen.  It makes no difference that we cannot prove that we will come back in another form after we leave this earth.  It is immaterial that there is no evidence that our spirits will ascend to a heaven that is described in different terms by different faiths.  It is what you think is true that matters.  Helen Osterman was sure she would see her husband again when she died and she did go to join him just six months after he left her.  She was finished with her life.

I have lived almost 60 years since that day and I have a very different perspective now.  I have seen people tied to tubes and bottles, their brain barely functioning, who have become nothing but blobs of living flesh.  I have heard tales of people riddled with agonizing pain who cannot be relieved of their suffering because it is against the law for a doctor to assist a patient to end his life.  And I know now that those people did not make proper arrangements for their finish.  They did not specify that they did not want to suffer without respite.  They did not insist that they not be kept alive by artificial means.

We are the only ones who have the right to make a decision about our body.  It is the one thing that belongs only to us and it is our duty to determine the way we care for it and when it is time to stop its functioning.  It is not a decision for a doctor or a relative to make.

However, once we make our wishes known it is incumbent upon all who know us to follow our wishes.  I remember a man who was in a coma whose wife insisted he be fed intravenously and on monitoring machines to keep him breathing.  She sat by his side all day into the night holding his hand but he did not know she was there.  He had made his living will.  He had trusted her to abide by his wishes but she couldn’t bear to let him go.  She insisted that keeping her husband alive was an act of love.  I think she committed an unforgiveable crime.

There are times when a physician finds himself caring for a person who has stopped functioning.  I cannot believe he has committed a crime when he simply removes all life support systems and lets his patient expire.

It seems to me that governments have taken over the responsibility for our well-being.  They pass laws to protect us from abuse, from accidents on the road and from habits they have decided will kill us.  Legislators have forgotten that we are unique individuals and it is the responsibility of each of us to listen to his body and keep it in running order.  It is for every person to decide if he wants a particular treatment to cure a diagnoses.  A diagnoses is after all only one person’s opinion.  The amount of cigarettes we smoke, the quantity of drugs we put into our systems and the type of exercise we care to do is a personal decision.  We own ourselves. No one else does.

Just as we all cherish the right to live our lives in our own way, we also have a right to decide when we are finished.  When life gives us no satisfaction…when we are stalled and are repeating the same routine every day, it is time to say goodbye to this life.  Once we make that decision, it must be respected.  The trick is to make that judgment when you still can think and to be sure that it is evident.

I have always loved the story of the woman who had DO NOT RESUSITATE tattooed on her chest and on her back, TURN ME OVER.  That is my kind of gal.

 

 

Dec 10 2014
Love0

VIEW FROM ACROSS THE POND: FANCY FRUIT

By Joe Cillo

DRESSING UP THE FRUIT BOWL

One that would serve fruit
Must give it a good presentation.
An anonymous Chinese philosopher

A Chinese fruit seller in Nanjing decided to dress his peaches in fancy knickers and triple the price. He labeled them fancy peach butts and charged £48 a dozen. What a great gift idea!!!

What a great solution for the person on your Christmas list who has everything.  Can you imagine a better present than a cute little peach decked out in lacy underwear?

And why stop there?  Imagine awakening on Christmas morning to discover a banana in a bow tie and a top hat doing a soft shoe just for you?  Think of the delight children would have when they opened up Santa’s gifts to find a pair of plums in tutus and lace bodices tucked into a chiffon lined box?

I cannot think of anything better to give your Nan, than a cluster of grapes laced with garlands of velvet ribbon.  After all, she has received enough lace hankies to last a lifetime.  She will thrill to the novelty of something she doesn’t have to tuck in a bureau drawer to give to someone else next year.

Christmas shopping would be so much easier for us all. No more beating our way through crowded malls trying to outspend each other, piling up mountains of colorful boxes filled with useless trinkets no one wants under the tree.    We would not have to spend hours exploring one expensive novelty shop after another in the Lanes trying to find just the right tie, or the prettiest bauble for our loved ones.  All we would need to do is run over to the green grocer and load up on produce, take it home and dress it up. On Christmas morning, the house would be filled with jolly pears in tap shoes and apples sporting feather boas.  Wow!

And don’t forget the veggies!  They tart up amazingly well. There is nothing as appealing as a mushroom in spats and every potato worth its butter and cheese, looks better in mesh stockings with a flowered garter.

What to serve for Christmas breakfast?  Problem solved.  Just put all the gifts in a large bowl, add some scones, clotted cream  and a bit of eggnog and enjoy.

 

Dec 09 2014
Love0

‘History of Comedy’ is zany, amusing yet uneven romp

By Woody Weingarten

[Woody’s [rating: 2.5]

Writer-director-actor Austin Tichenor communes with the skull of Yorick, a dead Shakespearean jester, in “The Complete History of Comedy (abridged).” Courtesy photo.

Writer-director-actor Reed Martin impersonates Rambozo the clown, in “The Complete History of Comedy (abridged).” Courtesy photo.

Dominic Conti depicts Abe Lincoln doing stand-up in “The Complete History of comedy (abridged).” Courtesy photo.

The woman sitting behind me kept laughing so loudly I thought she’d wet herself.

She was an exception.

The woman sitting next to me barely smiled throughout “The Complete History of Comedy (abridged).”

Most of the Marin Theatre Company audience, including me, was somewhere in between.

Which translated on opening night to laughing aloud more than a few times, grinning a lot, and occasionally yawning at professorial explanations that obstructed the rapid-fire delivery of punch-lines and screwball, high-energy performances.

The three-man Reduced Shakespeare Company troupe emulates the way-back zaniness of the Ritz Brothers, Marx Brothers and Three Stooges as well as the way-way-back cerebral intricacies of Chekov and Shakespeare.

They insert pie-in-the-face, rubber chicken and Muppet-like gags.

They deploy limitless props.

Austin Tichenor, a classically trained actor who sports pants intentionally too short, and Reed Martin, a former circus clown who wears his head without hair, are the show’s writer-director-actors.

Dominic Conti, a physically flexible actor who sports cutoff shorts, fills out the trio.

“The Complete History of Comedy (abridged)” starts with the ostensible origin of the genre, a cavewoman who ludicrously distorts the birthing process.

But it doesn’t proceed chronologically.

Instead, the speedy 90-minute romp divides itself into chunks — about clowning, Commedia dell’arte, violence, fooles (ancient and current), the best and worst all-time comedians (with slides and snide commentary) — cemented by a series of marvelous puns that draw loud groans from an appreciative crowd.

Add to that the references, beyond caustically skewering religious and political hypocrisy, to virtually everything relating to comedy.

Like George Carlin and his seven dirty words, minstrel shows, Monty Python and its dead parrot skit, Sigmund Freud and his psychological deconstruction of jokes.

The threesome acts out an Elizabethan rendition of the classic Abbott and Costello “Who’s on First?” routine, presents a two-man Greek chorus, and offers up a solo Abraham Lincoln in the guise of a stand-up comic.

Wigs are plentiful.

Coupled with enough pieces of fabric to facilitate scores of instant costume changes.

So much happens so fast it’s easy to miss something amusing. But you can be reasonably sure something amusing will come around the bend in another split second.

The funniest bit, in my estimation, was a look at the U.S. Supreme Court with each performer manipulating two puppets — vigorously.

Except the one representing Clarence Thomas, who, like in reality, sleeps through the proceedings.

Close behind was a segment in which two theatergoers were dragged onstage, then basically left to their own devices to provide sound effects.

Their lack of skill ended up being hilarious.

Squeezed between the infinite jokes and sketches were a handful of quick but serious moments — such as that provided by an archetypal character, Rambozo the clown, derivative of both Sun Tzu’s “The Art of War” and a 1986 antiwar song by Dead Kennedys.

The Reduced Shakespeare Company began in Marin in 1981 as a pass-the-hat troupe at the Renaissance Pleasure Faire in Novato.

Its first actual production was, fittingly, “The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (abridged).”

The current original production is the company’s ninth.

Some, I believe, were more successful than this — “The Bible: The Complete Word of God (abridged)” and “The Complete History of America (abridged),” for instance.

The company, which works exceedingly hard onstage, has publicized the phrase “Saving the world one joke at a time.” But it tries to cover too much territory in “The Complete History of Comedy (abridged),” resulting in the show being slightly uneven.

Maybe that’s why, in a theater in which standing ovations are de rigueur, it drew only moderate applause at evening’s end.

“The Complete History of Comedy (abridged)” plays at the Marin Theatre Company, 397 Miller Ave., Mill Valley, through Dec. 21. Performances Tuesdays and Thursdays through Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Wednesdays, 7:30 p.m.; Sundays, 7 p.m. Matinees, Thursdays, 1 p.m.; Saturdays and Sundays, 2 p.m. Tickets: $20 to $58 (subject to change). Information: (415) 388-5208 or marintheatre.org.

 

Dec 09 2014
Love0

‘Kinky Boots’ is feel-good, glitzy musical about tolerance

By Woody Weingarten

[Woody’s [rating: 4]

Touring company appears to enjoy “Kinky Boots” as much as the audience. Photo by Matthew Murphy.

Kyle Taylor Parker (right) and Steven Booth star in “Kinky Books.” Photo by Matthew Murphy.

High-steppin’ cast of “Kinky Boots” works hard at SHN Orpheum Theatre. Photo by Matthew Murphy.

When it comes to worshipping at the altar of pop-rock singer-composer Cyndi Lauper, I’m a late latecomer.

At the height of her popularity in the 1980s, I wasn’t particularly taken with her voice, her compositions or her rebel-punk image.

I wasn’t even enthralled with her first big hit, “Girls Just Want to Have Fun,” a feminist anthem she reconstructed from Robert Hazard’s original male anthem.

But, then, I’m a boy.

However, when my wife and I saw Lauper perform at the Black & White Ball, the symphony’s fundraiser, on the streets of San Francisco in 2012, we became fans.

And now, having gone to the SHN Orpheum Theatre to hear the LGBT activist’s latest tunes in “Kinky Boots,” which won six 2013 Tonys (including best original musical), our delayed adoration has grown even more.

Others obviously share the attraction.

Those who hand out the Tonys, for example. They gave her one for writing last year’s best original score, making her the first woman to win that honor solo.

The 61-year-old also won a Grammy for this year’s album of the show.

The musical, an upbeat two-hour-plus toe-tapper overflowing with humor, proves that — contrary to Nancy Sinatra’s chartbuster — some boots are made for dancing rather than walking.

Even if you’re hesitant about a show that spotlights a flowing white gown on a man — plus numerous high heels, sequins, feathers and cross-dressers — you’re apt to enjoy this one.

Especially its poignant everyman ballads that mirror difficult relationships between parents and offspring.

The main theme is acceptance of differences (and getting past stereotypes and bias, despite the show being filled with stereotypes and clichés)  — and finding forgiveness.

In San Francisco, where the opening night audience was about 90 percent un-straight, those notions drew mammoth applause and cheers.

Our seats, in fact, happened to be surrounded by drag queens in full regalia, including glitter, whiteface, battery-lighted fuzzy hats and, naturally, high boots.

They made me think that, although the local run is scheduled to end Dec. 28, the musical potentially could sell out in the Bay Area forever.

Its mass appeal may have exceptions, though. Like the four elderly ladies sitting in the rear with dour expressions opening night that may have indicated they’d bought tickets to the wrong show.

The predictable storyline of “Kinky Boots,” based on the 2005 British film with the same title, has Charlie Price, a young Northampton owner of a failing shoe factory, getting help from Lola, a transvestite cabaret star.

They start producing tall high-heeled boots aimed for cross-dressers, so they must appeal to a wearer’s feminine side while supporting a man’s weight.

Kyle Taylor Parker is astounding as Lola, evoking sympathy and compassion while singing in multiple registers, and Steven Booth displays passion, vulnerability and power in the role of Charlie.

Although Parker’s diva rendition of  “Hold Me in Your Heart,” is a showstopper, so is a comedic number, “The History of Wrong Guys,” performed by Lindsay Nicole Chambers as Lauren, an assembly worker with a crush on Charlie.

The raucous “Sex Is in the Heel,” featuring Lola and six backups, The Angels, also is a major crowd-pleaser.

“Everybody Say Yeah” is yet another winner. It’s a gospel-like rocker highlighted by performers dancing, sitting and reclining on a moving — and separated — assembly line.

But the song that touched my heart and sensibilities the most was a tender duet between Lola and Charlie, “Not My Father’s Son.”

Lauper’s lyrics, by the way, are inspirational spirit-boosters — for drag queens, heterosexuals and virtually anyone with a heartbeat.

They can encapsulate significance in a few words.

• “You can’t move on if you’re still in the past.”

• “There’s a roomful of people who need to feel normal — comparatively speaking.”

• “You’re in my fantasy.”

The book by Harvey Fierstein is alternately funny and sensitive, albeit a tad preachy.

Jerry Mitchell deserves plaudits, too, for his direction and vigorous choreography — including a distinctive slo-mo boxing ring scene.

Still, “Kinky Boots” isn’t for everyone.

Those uncomfortable with not hearing every lyric enunciated perfectly, or having to decipher a makeshift English accent, or with in the company of transvestites or others different from themselves are advised to stay home.

For the rest, it’s pretty much a guaranteed evening of good feelings, glitz ‘n’ glamor.

“Kinky Boots” will play at the SHN Orpheum Theatre, 1192 Market St., San Francisco, through Dec. 28. Night performances Tuesdays through Saturdays, 8 p.m. Matinees, Wednesdays, Saturdays and Sundays, 2 p.m.; Special performance, Friday, Dec. 26 at 2 p.m. Tickets: $75 to $300 (subject to change). Information: (888) 746-1799 or shnsf.com.

Dec 09 2014
Love0

Bobby McFerrin sings, frolics, conducts with San Francisco Symphony

By Woody Weingarten

[Woody’s [rating: 5]

Bobby McFerrin

Not everything Bobby McFerrin does musically is a 10. Once in a rare while he descends to a nine and a half.

In 1984, my wife heard a solo cut from his second album on jazz radio. She rushed out to buy “The Voice,” then made me listen.

I became an instant acolyte.

Soon, we caught him live in a Noe Valley church.

He vocalized unusual but pleasing sounds I hadn’t heard and, adding depth and texture, rhythmically pounded his chest in what I didn’t know would be recognized as beatboxing.

Humor was his sidekick.

Later we heard him reimagine all the “The Wizard of Oz” sounds and voices, and later yet watched him during a San Francisco rehearsal of Garrison Keillor’s “Prairie Home Companion.”

Clearly we’d found a musical magician, a guy with a four octave vocal range able to transform his environment with improvisational genius.

Through the years he stretched his talent, his genres and his venues.

He won 10 Grammys and, with “Don’t Worry, Be Happy,” reached the top of the pop charts. He collaborated with classical superstar Yo-Yo Ma and jazz hall-of-famer Chick Corea. He assembled an improv vocal troupe, Voicestra. And he conducted the New York Philharmonic, the Philadelphia Orchestra, the Chicago Symphony and the Vienna Philharmonic.

His conducting debut, with the San Francisco Symphony, took place on his 40th birthday, 25 years ago.

I watched him conduct that orchestra (which is always splendid) and sing George Gershwin this month.

His hair and dreadlocks now are tinged with white. But his talents haven’t aged; they have, rather, expanded exponentially.

His concerts include frolicking galore. He likes to tell people he’s a graduate of MSU — “Making Stuff Up”

McFerrin bent his “Porgy and Bess” set, for instance, to include “I Got Rhythm,” a Gershwin tune that was never part of the jazz opera score; and an improv medley with “A Horse with No Name,” a countrified falsetto duet featuring him and his bassist, Jeff Carney, and a free-form “I Want to Thank You for Letting Me Be Myself Again,” none of which bore any resemblance to Gershwin.

He also playfully superimposed a British accent on “A Foggy Day.”

Periodically switching between registers to create polyphonic effects, McFerrin ultimately managed to saturate the set with “Porgy” tunes based on Gil Evans’ arrangements for Miles Davis: “Summertime,” “It Ain’t Necessarily So” and “A Woman Is a Sometime Thing.”

His superb backup trio, functioning sans symphony, showcased pianist-arranger Gil Goldstein, who’d been an Evans’ protégé, and drummer Louis Cato.

McFerrin, who fingered the mic as if playing the clarinet (his first childhood instrument), also injected a screechy comedic voice that reminded me of Flip Wilson’s character Geraldine.

But “Porgy and Bess” has a special place in the singer’s heart.

His father, a baritone, was first African-American man to sing New York City’s Metropolitan Opera. The senior McFerrin also sang the “Porgy” role in Otto Preminger’s 1958 film, for lip-synching actor Sidney Poitier.

As a child, Bobby McFerrin was inundated with the music of Count Basie, Duke Ellington, Marvin Gaye, Led Zeppelin and Sergio Mendes, then the Beatles and Miles Davis — all overlaid with Verdi and other classical strains.

Plus Gershwin.

So it figures that using his voice as a multi-faceted instrument on “Rhapsody in Blue” might feel natural.

Ditto his conducting “An American in Paris.”

McFerrin’s audience was diverse in ethnicity. And age.

Within seconds, I spied an old man hobbling on crutches and a young girl hobbling on what obviously were her first high heels.

The gender split seemed equal.

I know not what occurred in the ladies room, but several guys were singing his encore — “Our Love Is Here to Stay,” Gershwin’s final composition — at the urinals after the two-hour show.

McFerrin’s been quoted saying, “I try not to ‘perform’ onstage. I try to sing the way I sing in my kitchen.”

He pulls it off.

Onstage at Davies Hall, he appeared at ease. And because he was having fun, his attitude spread over the audience.

Which gave him a standing ovation.

Of course.

Upcoming pop performance at Davies, Grove Street (between Van Ness and Franklin), San Francisco, will include “A New Year’s Event with Seth MacFarlane” Dec. 31, and “Patti LuPone: Far Away Places”(without symphony) Feb. 23. Information: (415) 864-6400 or www.sfsymphony.org.

Dec 08 2014
Love0

Soyafarm Combines Taste and Healthy Eating with New Soy-based Frozen Foods

By Mary Buttaro

New Gourmet Tofu Delights and Edamame Shumai Provide High Protein, Low Carb Health Benefits in a Flavorful Meatless Package

Soyafarm, a leading provider of healthy soy-based food products, today announced the debut of two new products for the health-conscious consumer. Soyafarm’s Gourmet Tofu Delights and Edamame Shumai (premium Asian dumplings) combine the low carb/high protein health benefits of soy-based products while offering a world-class taste that will leave even the most ardent meat-eaters hungry for more.

Soyafarm’s Gourmet Tofu Delights provide premium taste and meatless health benefits in a familiar, convenient nugget shape. Each 8.8 ounces box contains 10 frozen meatless nuggets ready for quick and easy preparation, either by oven or skillet. 5 nuggets provide almost 11 grams of soy protein in addition to isoflavones associated with soy-based products.

Soyafarm’s Edamame Shumai (pronounced ed-da-MA-may SHOO-my) offers a healthy take on traditional Asian dumplings. Usually prepared with pork, chicken, or seafood, shumai has been a popular dish in a number of different Asian countries for years. Soyafarm’s Edamame Shumai uses whole edamame (soy) beans in combination with vegetables and soy yuba skin, a protein-rich skin produced when heating soy milk, to create a unique meatless dumpling that vegetarians and meat-eaters will both enjoy. Packaged in 7.05 ounce boxes, each box of 8 dumplings provides the perfect side dish or snack for consumers who refuse to sacrifice taste when eating healthy. Soyafarm’s Edamame Shumai can be steamed or microwaved, and comes complete with a packet of authentic Asian dipping sauce.

“In the past, consumers have shown concern regarding the taste and texture of meatless products,” said Mike DeBritto, Product Manager of Soyafarm. “With this in mind, Soyafarm has created both its Gourmet Tofu Delights and Edamame Shumai with a clear focus on taste, striving to provide unique flavor that both vegetarians and meat-eaters can appreciate. We are confident that the taste, texture, and health benefits of our two new products will meet consumers’ demands for convenient, flavorful, and healthy foods.”

For additional information regarding either Soyafarm’s Gourmet Tofu Delights or its Edamame Shumai, please call (310) 217-4164.

About Soyafarm
Soyafarm USA is a division of Japan’s Fuji Oil Group, dedicated to the development of highest quality highly nutritional soy products enjoyed around the world. The company’s mission is to introduce healthy flavorful soy foods to American consumers under the Soyafarm USA brand name.
For further information, go to www.soyafarmusa.com

Dec 08 2014
Love0

Overacting, silliness mar ‘Peter and the Starcatcher’

By Judy Richter

If silly is your cup of tea, you’ll probably enjoy “Peter and the Starcatcher.”

The TheatreWorks production is directed by artistic director Robert Kelley, who has assembled a stellar cast. However, they have to deal with excesses in the play by Rick Elice, who based it on a 2004 novel by Dave Barry and Ridley Pearson.

The creators have an interesting premise of presenting a prequel to the Peter Pan story, but some overacting detracts from that idea as well as from some of the show’s truly clever moments and humor.

Most of the story takes place in 1885 when two ships set sail from London to Rundoon. Each carries an identical chest. The one on the Wasp is to be closely guarded by Lord Aster (Darren Bridgett) on orders of QueenVictoria.

The other is to be safeguarded on the other ship, the Neverland, by his plucky 13-year-old daughter, Molly (Adrienne Walters), accompanied by her nanny, Mrs. Bumbrake (Ron Campbell).

Their fellow passengers include three mistreated orphan boys. One of them, played by Tim Homsley, is the lonely, friendless Boy. Through various adventures and misadventures, Boy and Molly form an alliance, along with the other two boys.

In the meantime, the Wasp has been taken over by pirates, led by Black Stache (Patrick Kelly Jones), assisted by his henchman, Smee (Suzanne Grodner). Black Stache, who’s prone to malapropims, is the show’s most outrageous character, in part because of the writing and in part because of Jones’s overacting and mugging.

A series of adventures and misadventures follows in the convoluted plot. In the end, Boy decides to call himself Peter Pan and remain a boy, while Molly goes on with her life as a Starcatcher, one of a select few appointed by the queen to collect magical starstuff as it falls to earth.

In addition, Black Stache vows that he and Peter will be enemies from then on. Hence the path to the Peter Pan story is laid.

The plot twists involve some clever staging by Kelley. All 12 actors in the versatile cast assume at least one additional role during the two-act play. Standouts include Bridgett as Lord Aster, Walters as Molly, and Homsley as Boy. Cyril Jamal Cooper and Jeremy Kahn are noteworthy as Boy’s fellow orphans.

Plot’s transitions are aided by Joe Ragey’s flexible set (lit by Pamila Z. Gray) and creative, sometimes zany costumes by B. Modern. Some scenes are enhanced by Wayne Barker’s music. William Liberatore serves as musical director and keyboardist, joined only by a percussionist in the orchestra pit.

On the other hand, the sound design by Brendan Aanes overamplifies the actors, several of whom tend to shout their lines.

The play’s weaknesses are most apparent in the first act, but the second act becomes more interesting as it goes along.

“Peter and the Starcatcher” will continue at the Lucie Stern Theatre, 1305 Middlefield Road, Palo Alto, through Jan. 3. For tickets and information, call (650) 463-1960 or visit www.theatreworks.org.

 

Dec 08 2014
Love0

Hillbarn celebrates holidays with “White Christmas”

By Judy Richter

Hillbarn Theatre gets the holiday season off to a festive start with “White Christmas,” Irving Berlin’s musical tribute to love, family and friendship.

Inspired by the 1942 film “Holiday Inn,” “White Christmas” was first seen in a 1954 film starring Bing Crosby, Danny Kaye, Rosemary Clooney and Vera-Ellen. After being adapted for the stage, it has become a holiday staple for theaters across the country.

Hillbarn’s production features two Equity actors, Pierce Peter Brandt as Bob Wallace (the Crosby role) and Jim Ambler as Phil Davis (the Kaye role).

Written by David Ives and Paul Blake, the story starts on Christmas Eve 1944 when Army buddies Bob and Phil put on a holiday show for their unit and its commander, General Waverly (Bob Fitzgerald), in Europe.

Fast-forward 10 years. Bob and Phil have a popular song and dance act seen on TV’s “The Ed Sullivan Show.” Its producer tells them about a must-see sister act by Betty Haynes (Melissa O’Keefe in the Clooney role) and Judy Haynes (Amanda Farbstein in the Vera-Ellen role).

There’s instant attraction between Phil and Judy, but not so much between Bob and Betty.

By coincidence, the sisters are booked at a Vermont inn owned by General Waverly. The two men wind up joining them. As a lack of snow and a backlog of bills threaten the inn’s viability, the men undertake to save it.

Directed by Virginia Musante, the Hillbarn production features an engaging cast. Executing the interesting choreography by Gennine Harrington, all four leads are excellent dancers, as is much of the supporting cast.

Fans of the late Bob Fosse will recognize him as the inspiration for the Act 1closer, “Blue Skies,” featuring Bob and the chorus. Lovers of tap dancing will enjoy “I Love a Piano,” performed by Phil, Judy and the chorus to open Act 2.

With musical and vocal direction by Tracy Chiappone, the leads also sing and act well. O’Keefe is notable in Betty’s torch song, “Love, You Didn’t Do Right by Me.” Co-musical director Rick Reynolds conducts the orchestra, which gets too loud at times, overpowering the singers.

Among supporting roles, Claudia McCarley is a standout as the wisecracking Martha Watson, the inn’s longtime receptionist and manager. Poised and polished, 9-year-old Emily Mannion plays Susan Waverly, the general’s sharp-as-a-whip granddaughter. She brings down the house in the reprise of “Let Me Sing and I’m Happy,” first sung by Martha.

The show is loaded with memorable tunes. Besides those already mentioned, there are “Sisters,” “Count Your Blessings Instead of Sheep,” “How Deep Is the Ocean” and “I’ve Got My Love to Keep Me Warm.” Then there’s the title song, heard in both acts, each time with the audience invited to sing along.

On the design side, credit goes to Kuo-Hao Lo for sets that allow quick changes between scenes, to Don Coluzzi for the lighting, to Kate Schroeder for the costumes and Andrew Kang for the sound.

Besides being such an enjoyable, well done show, the production is notable for the welcome debut of Hillbarn’s new, more spacious restrooms along with new offices and a refurbished lobby.

“White Christmas” will continue at Hillbarn Theatre, 1285 E. Hillsdale Blvd., Foster City, through Dec. 21. For tickets and information, call (650) 349-6422. Ext. 2, or visit www.hillbarntheatre.org.

 

Dec 06 2014
Love0

VIEW FROM ACROSS THE POND: A GOOD DEATH

By Joe Cillo

 

LIVING THE GOOD LIFE

There are three ingredients in the good life:
Learning, earning and yearning.
Christopher Morley

Ezekiel Emanuel is 57 years old.  He is a physician specializing in cancer and the Vice Provost professor The University of Pennsylvania. He is a very smart man. Last October, he wrote an essay saying he wanted his life to end at 75.

He is a fool.

When I was 57, I had no idea what fun I could have once I crossed the line where productivity, beauty and fame topped the list of what I needed to make my day.   When I was 57 I cared that my face was drooping, my hearing dulled and my walk slowed, step by step.  I am 81 now and I love my wrinkled face.  It gets me every perc I could possibly want.  I step into a packed car in the tube and at least 3 gorgeous men stand up so I can rest my wrinkled bum on a seat.  I board a train and take a premium seat that is labeled Priority Seating just because I have been around a long time.

When I carry packages up or down stairs, there is always someone to carry those bundles for me and usually with a smile.  I hop (yes I can still hop) on a bus and sit down without worrying about the fare.  I go to movies, plays and concerts and pay at least 25% less than everyone else including all those youngsters under 60 with low paying jobs and expensive taste.

If I am in a queue and it is taking too long I clutch my heart and gasp a little; that gets me to the head of the line before I can exhale.  I stand at a counter rummaging though endless coins I cannot recognize without my glasses and NOT ONCE has anyone said, ”Hurry up, Bitch.”  No indeed.  Invariably there will be some kind soul who will hold my packages while I search for coins I dropped in the bottom of my purse and the clerk will ALWAYS smile and say, “Take your time, darling.”

And that brings me to another point:  EVERYONE, man, woman and even toddlers, address me as “Darling” and they mean it. The very things I did at 50 that annoyed the hell out of everyone; the missteps and accidents I had in my twenties that made both husbands leave me; all are absolutely adorable now that I am in my ninth decade.

But it isn’t just the attitude of everyone around me that has made life so very sweet these days.  It is MY attitude.  I am no longer concerned with what I see in the mirror.  It never got me much when I was younger and I don’t expect it to be the 8th aesthetic wonder of the world now.  That means that all the time, money and anguish I spent in beauty shops and on countless rejuvenation creams, skin enhancers, hair boosters…all of it is now spent on more rewarding activities like eating anything I want because what the hell: by the time I am too obese for my coffin, I won’t care. I won’t have to spend the extra money for it either.  The welfare department will.

I am at the age now where I can spend as much as I want for anything I want.  If I run out, I can get benefits.  My intention is to reduce my bank balance to zero and then apply for residence in a home.   We take care of our elderly here.  I am not worried about my liver either.  It’s held up this long, hasn’t it?

When I was in my fifties, I anguished because I had not made a visible mark in the world.  No one knew who I was.  My name never made a headline.  Now I realize that it isn’t the publicity you get for what you do, it is what you do that matters.  If it makes me happy and I am involved, then hooray; getting some award or a mention in someone’s column won’t change that.  It took me this long to get that.

“But here is a simple truth that many of us seem to resist: living too long is also a loss. It renders many of us, if not disabled, then faltering and declining, a state that may not be worse than death but is nonetheless deprived. It robs us of our creativity and ability to contribute to work, society, the world,” says Emanuel.

And I say, “How does he know that?  He hasn’t gotten there yet.”

Well I have and I can honestly say that my walk is slower, but I get where I want to go and I do not feel deprived.  I enjoy my life just as it is.  I do not have the same desires I had at twenty or thirty or forty because that is not the stage of life I am in right now.  My perspective has improved.  I have confidence in myself. I trust my judgment.  I don’t want to go to bars and find a hot sex pot to take me to bed.  That doesn’t interest me anymore.  I don’t want to wear uncomfortable clothes that reveal my nether parts because my nether parts are not the focus of my pleasure anymore.  My mind and my heart are the hungry organs now and I do everything I can to feed them.  It is more fun and not as sloppy.

It took me a long time to figure out that life is like a card game.  You take the hand you get and play it out the best you can. It does no good to bemoan what you didn’t get or begrudge others for what they have achieved.  You do not know what they had to do to get there.  I am happy now with the life I have but I am not content to stand still.  Not yet.

I am living in the now.  What is past is gone.  I am not that person anymore.  I don’t look good in her clothes.  I do not want to walk in her shoes.  They would pinch my bunion.  I do not want to waste the time she did on the telephone bemoaning what she didn’t have.  I love my current life and I am determined to make the most of it.  I will not waste my energy worrying about what I will do when I am ninety because I am not there yet.  When I am, I have no doubt that I will have adjusted to the difference in my motor abilities, my memory and my diminished life style.  I do not know how I will like it until it happens.

Do not get me wrong.  I do not want to waste away in a hospital bed anymore than you do.  I have reached an age where I am determined to let my body fall apart at its own pace.  I do get my flu shots but I am not sure I would allow any procedures to prolong my life if I had a terminal illness.  I am not afraid of dying.  It is after all the most dramatic event in our life other than birth.  I cannot recall being afraid when I exited my mother’s body and I have no intention of being consumed with fear about my death because I have no idea when it will happen or how.  When I am there, I will deal with it. Hopefully it will be a grand and dramatic departure.

My goal right now is to live abundantly.  I will not spend one iota of the time I have in worry because worry never accomplished anything and I have a lot I need to do.  I want to learn to fan dance. I see me shimming and swaying to the music showing off my cute bum and my shapely lets and then turning to the crowd, peeking out of the fans with a face that looks for all the world like an abandoned prune that needs ironing.  It should have an amazing effect on the crowd.

I want to play the ukulele and tap dance while I do it.  I want to explore the nooks and crannies of a Europe I have read about and I want to make a lot of strangers laugh.   Want to fall in love the right way this time…loving who he is, not how he looks, what he buys me or what he wears. The size of his wallet or his dick are not barometers of love for me anymore.  They never were but I thought they were.  I know better now.   I cannot be bothered regretting the hump on my back or the arthritis that has gnarled my fingers.  They still work and while they do, I am using them.

I have done the accepted thing.  I have prepared a directive that tells everyone not to resuscitate me and not to use any artificial means to keep me alive.  I have donated all the organs that work to anyone who needs them although who would want my ears is something I still cannot figure out.  My kidneys however are stellar and I hope the person who gets them appreciates how beautifully they have worked for me.

I do not want to lie in a hospital bed on life support with medical science keeping me alive and i know very well that is a decision I must make while i have all my faculties and can prepare the proper papers to keep an exuberant medical staff from pumping up my lungs and stimulating a heart that no longer wants to beat.  I have done that but that is all I have done.  I am ready and willing for death to happen when it is ready for me.  My mother always said I arrived two moths after I was due.  “You were always slow,” she said.”Right from the beginning.”

But I got here didn’t I?

I hope my exit will be cleaner and faster but if it isn’t well…I cannot know what it will be like until it happens.  I am determined to only die once….and that will be on the day my heart stops beating and my lungs give  me no air.  …not one minute before.

The trick is to live…live as fully, as beautifully and as daringly as you can.  Reach for every star and don’t be afraid to meet the price, do the work and pay the dues to get you there.  There is no dream that is impossible.  Wallace Stegner says we do not die from a disease.  We die because we are finished.

I am not finished.  Are you?

 

 

 

 

 

Dec 06 2014
Love0

VIEW FROM ACOSS THE POND: A GOOD DEATH

By Joe Cillo

 

LIVING THE GOOD LIFE

There are three ingredients in the good life:
Learning, earning and yearning.
Christopher Morley

Ezekiel Emanuel is 57 years old.  He is a physician specializing in cancer and the Vice Provost professor The University of Pennsylvania. He is a very smart man. Last October, he wrote an essay saying he wanted his life to end at 75.

He is a fool.

When I was 57, I had no idea what fun I could have once I crossed the line where productivity, beauty and fame topped the list of what I needed to make my day.   When I was 57 I cared that my face was drooping, my hearing dulled and my walk slowed, step by step.  I am 81 now and I love my wrinkled face.  It gets me every perc I could possibly want.  I step into a packed car in the tube and at least 3 gorgeous men stand up so I can rest my wrinkled bum on a seat.  I board a train and take a premium seat that is labeled Priority Seating just because I have been around a long time.

When I carry packages up or down stairs, there is always someone to carry those bundles for me and usually with a smile.  I hop (yes I can still hop) on a bus and sit down without worrying about the fare.  I go to movies, plays and concerts and pay at least 25% less than everyone else including all those youngsters under 60 with low paying jobs and expensive taste.

If I am in a queue and it is taking too long I clutch my heart and gasp a little; that gets me to the head of the line before I can exhale.  I stand at a counter rummaging though endless coins I cannot recognize without my glasses and NOT ONCE has anyone said, ”Hurry up, Bitch.”  No indeed.  Invariably there will be some kind soul who will hold my packages while I search for coins I dropped in the bottom of my purse and the clerk will ALWAYS smile and say, “Take your time, darling.”

And that brings me to another point:  EVERYONE, man, woman and even toddlers, address me as “Darling” and they mean it. The very things I did at 50 that annoyed the hell out of everyone; the missteps and accidents I had in my twenties that made both husbands leave me; all are absolutely adorable now that I am in my ninth decade.

But it isn’t just the attitude of everyone around me that has made life so very sweet these days.  It is MY attitude.  I am no longer concerned with what I see in the mirror.  It never got me much when I was younger and I don’t expect it to be the 8th aesthetic wonder of the world now.  That means that all the time, money and anguish I spent in beauty shops and on countless rejuvenation creams, skin enhancers, hair boosters…all of it is now spent on more rewarding activities like eating anything I want because what the hell: by the time I am too obese for my coffin, I won’t care. I won’t have to spend the extra money for it either.  The welfare department will.

I am at the age now where I can spend as much as I want for anything I want.  If I run out, I can get benefits.  My intention is to reduce my bank balance to zero and then apply for residence in a home.   We take care of our elderly here.  I am not worried about my liver either.  It’s held up this long, hasn’t it?

When I was in my fifties, I anguished because I had not made a visible mark in the world.  No one knew who I was.  My name never made a headline.  Now I realize that it isn’t the publicity you get for what you do, it is what you do that matters.  If it makes me happy and I am involved, then hooray; getting some award or a mention in someone’s column won’t change that.  It took me this long to get that.

“But here is a simple truth that many of us seem to resist: living too long is also a loss. It renders many of us, if not disabled, then faltering and declining, a state that may not be worse than death but is nonetheless deprived. It robs us of our creativity and ability to contribute to work, society, the world,” says Emanuel.

And I say, “How does he know that?  He hasn’t gotten there yet.”

Well I have and I can honestly say that my walk is slower, but I get where I want to go and I do not feel deprived.  I enjoy my life just as it is.  I do not have the same desires I had at twenty or thirty or forty because that is not the stage of life I am in right now.  My perspective has improved.  I have confidence in myself. I trust my judgment.  I don’t want to go to bars and find a hot sex pot to take me to bed.  That doesn’t interest me anymore.  I don’t want to wear uncomfortable clothes that reveal my nether parts because my nether parts are not the focus of my pleasure anymore.  My mind and my heart are the hungry organs now and I do everything I can to feed them.  It is more fun and not as sloppy.

It took me a long time to figure out that life is like a card game.  You take the hand you get and play it out the best you can. It does no good to bemoan what you didn’t get or begrudge others for what they have achieved.  You do not know what they had to do to get there.  I am happy now with the life I have but I am not content to stand still.  Not yet.

I am living in the now.  What is past is gone.  I am not that person anymore.  I don’t look good in her clothes.  I do not want to walk in her shoes.  They would pinch my bunion.  I do not want to waste the time she did on the telephone bemoaning what she didn’t have.  I love my current life and I am determined to make the most of it.  I will not waste my energy worrying about what I will do when I am ninety because I am not there yet.  When I am, I have no doubt that I will have adjusted to the difference in my motor abilities, my memory and my diminished life style.  I do not know how I will like it until it happens.

Do not get me wrong.  I do not want to waste away in a hospital bed anymore than you do.  I have reached an age where I am determined to let my body fall apart at its own pace.  I do get my flu shots but I am not sure I would allow any procedures to prolong my life if I had a terminal illness.  I am not afraid of dying.  It is after all the most dramatic event in our life other than birth.  I cannot recall being afraid when I exited my mother’s body and I have no intention of being consumed with fear about my death because I have no idea when it will happen or how.  When I am there, I will deal with it. Hopefully it will be a grand and dramatic departure.

My goal right now is to live abundantly.  I will not spend one iota of the time I have in worry because worry never accomplished anything and I have a lot I need to do.  I want to learn to fan dance. I see me shimming and swaying to the music showing off my cute bum and my shapely lets and then turning to the crowd, peeking out of the fans with a face that looks for all the world like an abandoned prune that needs ironing.  It should have an amazing effect on the crowd.

I want to play the ukulele and tap dance while I do it.  I want to explore the nooks and crannies of a Europe I have read about and I want to make a lot of strangers laugh.   Want to fall in love the right way this time…loving who he is, not how he looks, what he buys me or what he wears. The size of his wallet or his dick are not barometers of love for me anymore.  They never were but I thought they were.  I know better now.   I cannot be bothered regretting the hump on my back or the arthritis that has gnarled my fingers.  They still work and while they do, I am using them.

I have done the accepted thing.  I have prepared a directive that tells everyone not to resuscitate me and not to use any artificial means to keep me alive.  I have donated all the organs that work to anyone who needs them although who would want my ears is something I still cannot figure out.  My kidneys however are stellar and I hope the person who gets them appreciates how beautifully they have worked for me.

I do not want to lie in a hospital bed on life support with medical science keeping me alive and i know very well that is a decision I must make while i have all my faculties and can prepare the proper papers to keep an exuberant medical staff from pumping up my lungs and stimulating a heart that no longer wants to beat.  I have done that but that is all I have done.  I am ready and willing for death to happen when it is ready for me.  My mother always said I arrived two moths after I was due.  “You were always slow,” she said.”Right from the beginning.”

But I got here didn’t I?

I hope my exit will be cleaner and faster but if it isn’t well…I cannot know what it will be like until it happens.  I am determined to only die once….and that will be on the day my heart stops beating and my lungs give  me no air.  …not one minute before.

The trick is to live…live as fully, as beautifully and as daringly as you can.  Reach for every star and don’t be afraid to meet the price, do the work and pay the dues to get you there.  There is no dream that is impossible.  Wallace Stegner says we do not die from a disease.  We die because we are finished.

I am not finished.  Are you?