Break a Leg

I am one of those actors, one of those people, in fact, who abides by certain traditions, rituals, okay... superstitions.  But particularly in the theatre.  You've had heard it before:  "good luck is bad luck in the theatre," which is why we don't tell one another 'good luck" before a performance.  We say the words "break a leg," or in the dance world "merde," which for the non French speaking, is the fancy-dance-pants way of saying "shit."  Or, numerous other opposites of well-wishing.  My friend Jarvis used to say "go pee."  Basically, it's always Backwards Day backstage.  (Except for my husband, who likes to turn a joke around three or four times and then tell it three or four hundred times.  He learned this fun trick from an older seasoned actor and has repeated its utterance to many a younger actor in his own career.  He waits until "places" is called.  The nervous young actor awaits his/her entrance.  The lights dim, and then the older seasoned actor whispers low, but articulately:  "don't fuck up," and walks onto stage, leaving the fledgling actor sweating and peeing himself in the wings just seconds before he is to enter.)
There are other things, too. . .

Dwell & Tell IX, "Vino and The Jane"

Family is important to me.  It's the understatement of the universe when most of us say it, and seems so now as I type it.  I left Chicago in 1998 to move to Louisville, Kentucky for a year.  The story starts like this...

One of my proudest moments to date was the day my father and uncle Don came to pick me up from Chicago in a U-haul van and move me and my stuff to their sister, my aunt Mary Jane's house in Louisville.  They were unable to park the U-haul on the crowded residential street we lived on and figured we'd just have to double-park until we were packed up.  (I do not travel light.  Never have.  I can cut back on outfits, sure, but oh, the shoes!)  
Well!  After spending a year in Chicago swiveling my little Geo Prism into spaces the exact length of my car, the 23-year old me climbed up into the cab of the U-haul and slid that fucker right in.  No bumps or dents.  The Hoben brothers pulled down their mouths and simultaneously raised their eyebrows in a signature Hoben expression that means, "Huh.  Nice work, Kiddo."
I beamed.
I was not a kid anymore.
I had grown up.
What could be left to learn?

Coincidence: (Dwell & Tell VIII)

Coincidence: noun [koh-in-si-duhns] 1.  a striking occurrence of two or more events at one time apparently by mere chance.  The post below was written last week.  In the week-end that followed (two days ago) I experienced a remarkable coincidence which left me dizzy with wonderment and baffled by the order of disorder.  For 24 hours I have been wrestling with the meaning of this odd coincidence.  Today I have decided that I simply don't know its meaning.  Maybe someday (as illustrated in the tale below) I'll believe I figured out the meaning.  It might be in ten years.  It might be after death.  Or never.  

Lucia was the name of the landlady at mine and Matt's apartment in Chicago up around Kimble and Kedzie.  There was a big family that lived in her apartment which was directly below ours.  She was about 200 years old, and she had a bilingual fit one time when I refused to pay rent until she did something about the cockroaches.  She would occasionally come up --with this sprayer device that looked a lot like a silver fire-extinguisher which appeared to be heavier than her being-- and spray the edges of the room.  The device could have been making cotton candy for all I know and was about as effective.  But don't be misled, we loved that apartment.

Stauf's on Grandview Avenue in Grandview, OH

I spent my time in Chicago acting in children's theatre productions, and making necessary additional money at Starbucks and a World Gym where I was first a receptionist and then taught my first Step aerobics class. That was 1997.  It was the rage!  (Oh, how I miss a good old-fashioned "basic-right, basic-left, turn-step, over-the-top...")  It was a tough year, in retrospect, but I didn't know it at the time.  After graduating college in '96, I spent a year at home in Columbus to pick up the shattered pieces after my big sister's death in '95.