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?
(Spell check does not recognize "fucker." Really? "Hi, Spellcheck, it's Ginna, we've met before. Lots of times.")
I brought enough stuff with me to Mary Jane's that today, fifteen years later, some it is still there, taking up space in her basement. A basket with some kitchen utensils, some high-heels that are minutes away from being categorized as "vintage," and a heap of Mardi Gras beads that I don't even want to talk about...
It was a ten-month Acting Apprenticeship that required long-days, some overnights, and only one day off. Mary Jane is an anesthesiologist, so her hours were kinda the same. To state the second biggest understatement in my life: between the two of us, she generated more income. Not a hard contest to win, since this particular Acting Apprenticeship was non-paid.
On the rare night when we were home at the same time, she'd cook dinner for us (spicy shrimp was my favorite, but it was all wonderful.) Because none of the 22 apprentice/interns were getting paid, many in our group were pinching pennies all year. It was a major expense for me to undertake this position, but I was well-cushioned by MJ's beautiful home, full pantry, and enviable stock of wine. Oh, the wine...
Mary Jane was really the first person to introduce me to wine. Without her, my blog might be titled "The Lonely Bean." I had liked wine before, but never before was exposed to such varieties. Red Zinfandel entered my vocabulary for the first time... and then my heart. I got to try all of MJ's favorites, some of them are my go-to wines today, some of which I may never be able to afford, but always with our shared philosophy: "Good wine is just wine that you like."
MJ sat through many a workshop production while I lived in Louisville, including the first play I wrote to be produced/performed by others, and my brief appearance in a Humana Festival Play. She got to know my friends (who love her and loved coming over for a good meal and a good laugh.) And I got to know hers, particularly a group of women who got together on a regular basis, the self-designated "Hos." Oh, the Hos...
(Funny. You will accept the singular, but not the plural of 'Ho?' You need to get out more, Spellcheck.)
MJ and I took on each other's friends with equal adoration. She still asks about Alice, and Tony, and Matt, and I am still referred to by her friends as "Lil' Ho." When I left around mid-March to experience Mardi Gras in New Orleans, MJ kindly vamped when my mother called and wondered where I was. At the end of my ten-month apprenticeship, MJ threw a party where apprentices and Hos collided (hardly a historical first, if you take the term 'ho' in its general sense, but an entirely different party by the meaning I intend.) One of my friends got drunk and fell/broke-through the screen door between MJ's back patio deck and living room. MJ took it in stride. I believe her remark was "it's happened before" and I do believe the first crash-through was under similar circumstances.
I've stayed with Mary a lot over the years, but those ten months were a special few. To call her generous is to conclude this entry with yet a third mammoth understatement. I often doubt that I'll ever be able to repay her generous act, but I hope I do. (She has been assured that she'll get mention in any televised award ceremony on which I give an acceptance speech.) And I hope that in the future, I have something to offer someone who is just starting out... a place to stay, a cup of coffee, a glass of Red Zinfandel...
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?
(Spell check does not recognize "fucker." Really? "Hi, Spellcheck, it's Ginna, we've met before. Lots of times.")
I brought enough stuff with me to Mary Jane's that today, fifteen years later, some it is still there, taking up space in her basement. A basket with some kitchen utensils, some high-heels that are minutes away from being categorized as "vintage," and a heap of Mardi Gras beads that I don't even want to talk about...
It was a ten-month Acting Apprenticeship that required long-days, some overnights, and only one day off. Mary Jane is an anesthesiologist, so her hours were kinda the same. To state the second biggest understatement in my life: between the two of us, she generated more income. Not a hard contest to win, since this particular Acting Apprenticeship was non-paid.
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| Harvest Moon Cafe in Canal Winchester, OH was recommended to my friend Alyssa the morning after I had stayed at her house, entertained by Alyssa's adorable five-year old Ava, who has a fledgling talent for improvisational song-writing, dancing, ... and flying, so it seems. (She can jump off a sofa and, miraculously "fly" for about a nano-second before hitting the carpeted living room floor.) It is a wonder to behold. Harvest Moon is exactly the kind of gem I seek in my blogging adventures. Terrific organic coffees, lovely interior, free refills, free wifi, friendly staff. The even have a small organic market attached. A set of shelves boasted a variety of coffee beans and... you guessed it, organic wines. |
On the rare night when we were home at the same time, she'd cook dinner for us (spicy shrimp was my favorite, but it was all wonderful.) Because none of the 22 apprentice/interns were getting paid, many in our group were pinching pennies all year. It was a major expense for me to undertake this position, but I was well-cushioned by MJ's beautiful home, full pantry, and enviable stock of wine. Oh, the wine...
Mary Jane was really the first person to introduce me to wine. Without her, my blog might be titled "The Lonely Bean." I had liked wine before, but never before was exposed to such varieties. Red Zinfandel entered my vocabulary for the first time... and then my heart. I got to try all of MJ's favorites, some of them are my go-to wines today, some of which I may never be able to afford, but always with our shared philosophy: "Good wine is just wine that you like."
MJ sat through many a workshop production while I lived in Louisville, including the first play I wrote to be produced/performed by others, and my brief appearance in a Humana Festival Play. She got to know my friends (who love her and loved coming over for a good meal and a good laugh.) And I got to know hers, particularly a group of women who got together on a regular basis, the self-designated "Hos." Oh, the Hos...
(Funny. You will accept the singular, but not the plural of 'Ho?' You need to get out more, Spellcheck.)
MJ and I took on each other's friends with equal adoration. She still asks about Alice, and Tony, and Matt, and I am still referred to by her friends as "Lil' Ho." When I left around mid-March to experience Mardi Gras in New Orleans, MJ kindly vamped when my mother called and wondered where I was. At the end of my ten-month apprenticeship, MJ threw a party where apprentices and Hos collided (hardly a historical first, if you take the term 'ho' in its general sense, but an entirely different party by the meaning I intend.) One of my friends got drunk and fell/broke-through the screen door between MJ's back patio deck and living room. MJ took it in stride. I believe her remark was "it's happened before" and I do believe the first crash-through was under similar circumstances.
I've stayed with Mary a lot over the years, but those ten months were a special few. To call her generous is to conclude this entry with yet a third mammoth understatement. I often doubt that I'll ever be able to repay her generous act, but I hope I do. (She has been assured that she'll get mention in any televised award ceremony on which I give an acceptance speech.) And I hope that in the future, I have something to offer someone who is just starting out... a place to stay, a cup of coffee, a glass of Red Zinfandel...
What a lovely post Little Ho. Hmm - feels somehow inappropriate for me to call you that:-) And yet delicious, knowing from whence it came.
ReplyDeleteI do so miss seeing your face. Perhaps sometime this year we will be geographically close enough for a glass of good wine. I would like that.
Jane