PETER PAN, REDUX

Hi--back as promised.  But, oh my.  Oh dear.  Well--darn it all.  Maybe the situation with "Peter Pan" at seventy is, it just isn't the same as "Peter Pan" at nine, or ten, or twenty-seven.  Maybe, at seventy, there are too many other Peter Pans still flying around in our brains.  And, maybe, the little yellow records I mentioned the other day really were as good as it got, and I shouldn't have trashed them, or given them away, or lost them, or whatever I did that caused their disappearance.  But, I can tell you right now that if I did have them back, I would only look at those little records and not ever play them.  Some things are better left where they are.

That being said. I still want to affirm that I heartily support NBC presenting live theatre.  "The Sound of Music," last year, and "Peter Pan," on Thursday evening were great ideas, and I hope they keep right on doing it. Quality programming does raise television to a higher plane, and we need a lot more of that.

Years ago, one of the television networks introduced me to Edgar Allan Poe when I watched "The Cask of Amontillado," and nearly wet my pants.  I recovered, and shortly afterward embarked on a reading frenzy of Poe's short stories.

On another summer afternoon, I saw "No Exit" by Jean Paul Sartre.  I was probably in high-school then.  The presentation was in black and white and  dramatized the theory that Hell might not really be all fire and brimstone.  Hell just might be three people who can't stand each other, locked in a small room with no hope of escape for all eternity. Think about that.  When I finally began to understand what I was watching, I was really relieved that fire wasn't involved; but, by the end of the hour, I had to consider fire might have been a blessing.  That play stayed in the front of my brain for fifty years, and only recently did I learn it had come from Sartre.  

So--what happened with Peter Pan that left me disappointed?  Primarily, Peter Pan and Captain Hook.  Allison Williams is darling and has a great voice, but I kept waiting for Peter to show up.  Her performance was careful, right on point and right on cue but, for me, Peter was missing.  I never felt his spirit or his spark.  Sadly, Peter never  flew, he was simply flown.

Christopher Walken, I thought, looked as if he were in a daze, bored, and perhaps a bit confused by all that was going on around him.  Actually, when I'd watched him in a portion of the preview the week before, I assumed he simply was still perfecting his take on the Captain and would come to life for the actual telecast.  I was wrong.

Now for the big confession.  I quit watching at 9:15 p.m.  I missed the last 45 minutes and I know a lot went on. NBC reassured me on Friday night's newscast that children across the country clapped their hands loud and long, and Tinker Bell did survive. For that I'm grateful and more than a little guilty I wasn't there to help.  I would hate to think of a world without her.

                

PETER PAN--PART ONE

NBC has tempted me off my runaway Christmas prep treadmill, and gently nudged me over the curb onto Memory Lane with its promised live broadcast of "Peter Pan" this evening.  Or, more correctly:  Petah Pan.  Wendy will, no doubt, call him Petah numerous times during the telecast.  And, I can't wait to see it.

I love Peter Pan.  I have loved Peter Pan nearly as long as I've been alive.  I have to believe we had J.M. Barrie's book somewhere in our house when I was growing up.  It can't all have been Walt Disney.  I saw the movie when I was eight or nine, and had the records from it.  They were the size of '45s and bright yellow.  There was also a little book included in the box that had a very abbreviated story line and drawings on each page directly from the movie.  There was nothing not to love about that Christmas gift.

I remember the afternoon I arrived home from school and there, in our living room, was a television set, arranged rather awkwardly in the open curve of our grand piano, its huge eye staring mindlessly into our living room. My Mom was in shock and wouldn't touch it, so we all sat down and stared at it. I, for one, thought my head would burst, I was so excited.

About the same time as Disney's "Peter Pan," TV antennas began sprouting on the rooftops of Dodge City.  An NBC affiliate in Great Bend, 84 miles to our northeast, had just come onto the air, and its reception (in black and white), was the best available to us.  Although most broadcasts were viewed through a filter of snow, ranging from light to white-out blizzard conditions, Daddy bought an antenna for the roof. He was an early adopter.

Within days of our television's arrival, NBC announced it's upcoming broadcast of "Peter Pan" with Mary Martin--live, I assume.  Much was live in those days, so it wasn't as unusual as tonight's performance.  And, just like today, I couldn't wait--but it was an intense "couldn't wait" period.  I worried about the weather:  What if reception was so bad we couldn't see it?   I worried about strange, unexplained interference:  Sunspots?  Martians?  And, on and on.  I was a nervous wreck.

But, wonder of wonders, our reception that evening was watchable.  The snow was light, the music familiar, and Mary Martin as Peter was absolutely spot on. Nana, however, was not a real dog as he will be tonight.  It couldn't have been better and, obviously, I deposited that entire event near the top of my memory bank.

Only as I was writing this post did it occur to me that my father knew how much I loved Peter Pan.  Considering our small house and centralized record player, he had no choice.  What if the timing of his purchase of that beautiful RCA television set and the presentation by NBC of Peter Pan were connected?  What if?  It probably isn't so, but what a nice memory that makes.  I think I'm going to leave it like that and hope for the best. 

I'll check back in after Peter flies tonight..    

THE ONLY THING...

It's not quite December, but I'm already sneaking peeks into my new Planner, imagining what wonderful things will happen to fill all of those days.  There are few things more enticing to me than a blank calendar page.

I'm not sure if I mentioned that I opted for "The Seven Habits" Franklin Planner, which comes with a quote at the bottom of each day's page.  The January 1, 2015, quote is attributed to Bertrand Russell--"The only thing that will redeem mankind is cooperation."   My new discovery, Wikiquote, tells me this quotation comes from "Human Society in Ethics and Politics" published in 1954.  Despite the occasional bad press, I've opted to believe Wikiquote because, frankly, there is no way that I could ever get through "Human Society in Ethics and Politics" to actually find the context of that quote for myself.  I'm simply hoping for the best.

Russell's quote didn't speak to me until the third or fourth reading.  Cooperation seemed so obvious, I was kind of surprised it was included.  Most of us had heard any number of lectures on cooperation even before we walked into kindergarten, and had already found it relatively unappealing.  I mean, really, who wants to cooperate by sharing a brand new crayon with a stranger across the table?  Especially if it's Knock Your Socks Off Pink.

And, yes, I know the leap from sharing crayons to redeeming mankind is a long one, but I've been thinking about it a lot over the past week or so, during what seems to be an especially un-cooperative period across this world of ours.  Finally, though, I've had to stop criticizing Congress; the Administration; Vladimir Putin; Ferguson, MO; the Arizona Governor (incoming and outgoing); and bring the entire process closer to home.

I've considered:  Why is cooperation so hard for so many?  Ideologues aside, we know it's a very good thing.  Politically, it's even better.  But, personally?  I'm afraid, personally, it can suck.  Not all of the time...but enough of the time.

Why?  I think it's the giving up.  The letting go.  The handing over.  And in my case, it's the relationship of those three actions to time.  I was born with a finely-tuned sense of time.  I can literally see it flying by, sweeping away my good intentions, my plans, my daily duties...my days left on earth.  I will admit that I'm selfish with my time.  I'm not sure that's bad, but I have a feeling it's not good.  I'm working on it.

So...what does that mean at our house?  Sharing duties in exchange for time.  Helping each other.  It may take BC an hour to fill out an on-line form while I can whip it out in ten minutes.  It only makes sense for me to do it.  Right now?  Right this minute?  BC is doing the lunch dishes as he watches Big 12 Football, so that I can blog.  That's pretty darned close to a Win-Win, but it still counts as cooperation.   And let me tell you: If we can cooperate, the big boys can cooperate.  I just wish they would...

               

SAN ANTONIO

I think this was my third or fourth trip to San Antonio, but I look forward to it and love it every time.  The Riverwalk is gorgeous and sheltered and cool and just the tiniest bit damp.  For a desert girl, it's a wonderful get-away.  We arrived on Monday afternoon into San Antonio's exceptionally spacious airport.  Not many airports are a pleasure, but this one was.  Every person we talked to or asked directions from was happily helpful.  That's the way we thought of them.  Happily Helpful.  They're great ambassadors for the city which, at 1.6 million, is much larger than I thought.

Mary and I stayed at a Drury Inn and Suites which is showing its age, but again everyone there was exceptionally helpful and breakfast is included in the price.  And, before I forget, so are wine and other similar beverages along with hot hors d'oeuvres.  It's a happy place from 5:30 to 7:00 p.m.  And that aging part?  Our suite was spotless and I'm more into that than the latest and greatest furniture.   

We did the obligatory River Tour, and it is interesting... Really.  I had remembered that the San Antonio River is real and empties into the Gulf of Mexico, but in the process it becomes part of San Antonio's flood control project which is pretty darned intricate.  We learned a bit of history--real and imagined, and directions to a good authentic Mexican Restaurant.  I can't really vouch for the authenticity part, but it was so good, we visited it twice! 

 On another day we walked to the Alamo.  The Drury Inn sits on the river's edge--as you exit the back door, you're at the river; and in the other direction, it's only a few blocks to the Alamo.  I remembered the Alamo, but not as much as I should have.  I forget how intricately carved and really pretty the church is, and how seriously Texans take this shrine.  Yes, it is a Texas State Shrine in honor of the brave men who defended it against the forces from Mexico.  Here you find a roll-call of the great adventurers of the early 19th century.  Unfortunately, far too many of them, Americans, Europeans and Mexicans, died here.    

This tree--a Southern Live Oak--is much more impressive in person than in a little photograph.  If my memory serves me well, it is over 200 years old, and nearly fills the courtyard surrounding it.  We planted six Southern Live Oaks around our patio last year at about this time, and I'm now resolved to keep those sweet trees under control.  The grounds of the Alamo are much bigger than I remembered.  It was a good-sized fort (now nearly covered by San Antonio downtown buildings), but we think mostly of that pretty little mission when we think Alamo.   

 Water, water everywhere--the weather performed exactly as forecast, and on Thursday the rains, wind and cold descended.  We had hoped to ride the River Taxi to the Pearl Brewery, but it would be a chilly and damp hour-long ride.  Being dainty (and old) ladies, we took a cab and ten minutes later were warm and cozy at the Local Coffee shop.  This new area, accessible from the Riverwalk if you don't mind a hike, is historic (the Brewery was founded in 1881) up-to-the-minute modern, quirky, delicious and fun.  Plan on spending an afternoon, and plan on including lunch or dinner, then kick back and relax. 

  

Margie



BACK TO MY FUTURE

About this same time of year in 2012 I posted about my great love for and dependence upon a Daily Planner.  Not just any Daily Planner, but the Perfect Daily Planner.  That year I had discovered Paperblanks and their lovely line of journals, address books and, yes, planners.

I told the story of spotting a particularly beautiful  Paperblanks Planner and even though it allowed only one page per day, and squished Saturday and Sunday together on a single page, I committed. It would be a bit tight, but I decided I could do everything on a slightly smaller calendar scale.  For example, I could use my teensiest-tiniest handwriting to limit all my notes to the daily allotted one inch  As most girls learn early in Kindergarten, beauty trumps all common sense.

Last month, when I visited the Paperblanks website to order my brains for 2015, I was horrified to discover only six choices of planners.  Six not-very-attractive choices of planners.  Beautiful journals but very plain  planners.  Frankly, my planner sets the tone for my entire year, and I was in deep trouble with this website. 

I continued to search the internet and various shops for a 2015 planner but, as the days wore on, I began to realize I had only one choice.  After all the not-so-nice things I had said about Franklin Planners in 2012, I would have to crawl back to them and beg to be forgiven.  And, damn--I hate to do that.

However, minutes after creeping into franklinplanner.com which instantaneously turned into franklinplanner.fcorgp.com (the shopping area--these people are straight to the point) I came across a lovely Italian leather cover on sale for half-price.  Well, they had me there and, as you could guess, I'm ensconced quite comfortably with Franklin once again.  I'm back with two-pages per day; a schedule for my schedules; pages for goals, values, mission and finances...It's truly me.  I love nothing more than delaying a project just one more day by taking one final opportunity to re-plan it, and Franklin?  It provides all the tools I need.

Yes, 2015, has all the makings of another successful year indeed.

Margie

"WISE WOMEN"

A few weeks ago, a friend lent me a book she'd recently purchased, Wise Women.  Sub-titled "A Celebration of Their Insights, Courage and Beauty," this book of photographs is all that and more. The heavy, smooth, matte-finished paper is a tactile pleasure, while the varying shades of sepia used throughout create warmth and comfort as we discover these womens' worlds.  Did I mention the "wise women" are all between the ages of 65 and 100?  And, in this book 100 looks surprisingly good.

Wise Women opens with Zelda Kaplan, aged 85, bright, erect, head held high, who begins her story by sharing: "I used to dance a lot, but unfortunately, all my partners are dead."  Age and Stage at its worst threatens to defeat us, but it doesn't win every time.  Not by a long shot.  We're strong creatures, and if we can't dance, we can always choose to wear hats that make people smile.  Just like Zelda explains.  

Gloria Steinem caught my attention when she wrote:  "Many of us are living out the unlived lives of our mothers, because they were not able to become the unique people they were born to be..." Steinem, a pioneer of the women's movement to the nth degree, no doubt believed what she said that day.  I wonder now if my mother felt unable to be the person she was born to be.  I don't think for a minute I'm living out her ambitions.  If she dreamed at all, she didn't share it with us, and I'm convinced anything she might have considered would be way beyond my meager accomplishments.  However, I'm definitely planning to spend more time with Steinem's comment.  

Christine Lee, at 67, realizing how swiftly the days fly by, offered advice:  "If you wake up in the morning and you have a choice between doing the laundry and taking a walk in the park, go for the walk. You'd hate to die and realize you had spent your last day doing the laundry."  Amen to that, but in my heart of hearts, I know that if someone told me I would die tomorrow, I'd be hard pressed not to clean house all night.

Sadly, this book carries a copyright of 2002 and many of these wonderful ladies aren't with us any more.  But their thoughts remain.  I've only given you a bare taste because I don't want to spoil the feast that awaits when you have a chance to pick up Wise Women.  And, when you do, I would recommend a wonderfully rich latte or a full-bodied Cabernet as an accompaniment..  It's that kind of thoughtful experience.

 Margie     

RETIREMENT COMMUNITY READING

In our neighborhood, we have a variety of little newspapers and magazines filled with advertisements designed just for us.  Us being "Active Adults," poorly disguised code for "Old".

"DON'T DIE IN YOUR BATHROOM!"  God knows, I really hope I don't die in my bathroom, especially before I get rid of the ten-year-old bargain basement towels we're trying to wear out prior to popping for the Pottery Barn set.  This ad promises its readers that "NOW YOU CAN MAINTAIN YOUR LIFESTYLE AND STILL BE SAFE IN YOUR BATHROOM!" simply by installing a walk-in tub.  I don't know...I still see some possible problems, but maybe that's just me.

Next is the neighborhood Funeral Chapel and Cremation Center that will "FORWARD OUT-OF-STATE." Unfortunately, I can only assume it will be me they are forwarding out-of-state, and can I be sure my kids gave the FC&CC the correct address?  They're wonderful children, but there's still a little nagging concern.

Farther down the page, I spot a Private Investigator who specializes in "INSURANCE FRAUD, MORTGAGE FRAUD", and "ADULTRY" (sic).  You may laugh at that, but let me tell you, in the mid-1990s Sun City West suffered a huge adultery outbreak that made national news and still raises eyebrows today. And...Sun City West is where I picked up the little paper this morning.

On a more solemn note, the local flower shop is proud to be "SPECIALIZING IN SYMPATHY DESIGNS FOR FAMILY, FRIENDS AND CORPORATIONS".  Do people send flowers when a Corporation goes face down?  Considering the "Citizens United" Supreme Court decision, it could be and we're overlooking a profitable niche market.

And, finally, (I've got to quit because God may consider this whole exercise pretty tacky) the "GENTAL (sic) WOMAN DENTIST" who offers "PAINLESS DENTISTRY FOR SENIORS."  Under 65?  Brace Yourself!

Margie
All quotes from "Coffee News", September 29, 2014.