Sue Merrell's Blog: Laughing for a Living, page 22

Can't stop singing those songs

   
I never claimed to be a singer, but when I'm alone in my own home -- watch out. Doing the housework Wednesday it was an off-key "Sherry, Sherry baby, Sherry." Loading the car in the garage Thursday  it was "Oh, pretty baby! Now that I've found you stay. Oh, Pretty Baby, Forgive me when I say..." at the top of my lungs. And petting my  cat, a quiet "As long as love can survive, I thank God I'm alive..."
    It's all because of "Jersey Boys." I saw the show Tuesday at DeVos Performance Hall and it won't let me go. I had seen it once before in Chicago, but if anything this touring show was even better. More electric.
     I sang a couple bars of  "Big Girls Don't Cry" and "Walk Like a Man" for my mom on Skype and it was good enough that she quickly remembered the songs of The Four Seasons. "Oh, yeah, I know those songs," she said.
     Last night I woke up at 3 a.m. and all I could think of was "Late December back in '63, what a special time for me, as I remember, what a night."
     If you didn't catch this show, the good news is you have five more chances this weekend: tonight and double performances both Saturday and Sunday. But be warned, the music will follow you home.

Good multiplied

    
When I was raising my son in Toledo, one of my friends was Jane, a young mother from Kentucky. I remember she used to send her daughters outside to play with a kiss on the top of the head and the words "Be good." (You have to imagine a southern drawl for the full effect)
       I was reminded of Jane today as I left the day-long Ted -X Macatawa meeting in Holland. "Do good" people said to each other instead of  "goodbye." 
      The day had been overflowing with "good" ideas. Improvements in our education system, a company run by retired executives aimed at providing clean water for third world countries, tips for the perfectly "imperfect", breaking out from the 'hood, creating products intended for reuse instead of waste, telling our stories, helping injured veterans be creative.
      It's hard to decide what "good" to do first. Little things like taking my morning tea on the deck and watching the sunrise instead of at my desk reading emails. Finding that dulcimer I put away and giving it another try. Calling an old friend to see how I can help. I was inspired with several major project ideas that will take longer to implement, but today, listening to all that enthusiasm, my ideas sounded doable. 
       In the impersonal tech world of Facebook and Twitter, it's inspiring to see people coming together simply to hear people talk about ideas. And then to talk to other people about what they heard. Talk. Talk about good. Better. Now. We can.Good.
      
      

Crazy good

I've never been one for horror movies. I don't like to be scared silly. And if I anticipate somebody's about to get hurt in the movie I'm watching, I close my eyes.

But I couldn't take my eyes off "Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street," the latest offering at Circle Theatre. It's a horrifying story, yet there's an unspoken pact somehow between actors and audience that there will be no blood. The murders will be hinted, even laughed about, but never actually seen.

Instead we see the eyes. The fear. The hate. The greed and plotting. The helpless vulnerability. And you just can't turn away from it. It's mesmerizing. Oh, my skin is still crawling.

See it ... if you dare.

It's a mystery to me

Peanut gallery high above the stage.Grand Rapids Civic Theatre is a fun house. Just think of all the good times you've had there watching plays, taking classes. But tonight media members saw some of the building's spooky secrets in a special Inside DISH tour.  Of course, a bit of mystery was the general idea. The next production is "Sherlock Holmes" and as the great detective would say, the game's afoot. 

As media members wandered through the props stored in the labyrinth basement, Dr. Watson popped up. He was more than a little agitated that Holmes had stuck him in the basement. Holmes himself popped out of the fancy stage right dressing room which was added in 1979 for Tony Award-winning actress Julie Harris when she presented "The Belle of Amherst" at Civic. Harris, who died Saturday, is also featured in a photo in the lobby.

But the spookiest part of the tour was a trip to the "peanut gallery" on the third floor, high above the balcony that most guests see. This is where blacks and other minorities were seated until the 1920s. Now the bleacher seats are used for storage and spotlights. But it was an ugly peek into entertainment history that was particularly meaningful on the 50th anniversary of Dr. Martin Luther King's "I Have A Dream" speech.

Saga of the lime green jeans

The capris (pre-stain)  at  Coast Guard FestivalLast spring, I heard that lime green was the "in" color this season. It looks good with my red hair, so when I spied a pair of lime green capris at a flea market, I tried them on. Perfect fit. Good price ($10). Although I didn't have any tops to wear with them, I bought the lime green capris.
      I managed to find a few things in my closet that worked well with the green jeans as I called them. They received several compliments at the Asparagus Fest in Empire, Mi., where I looked painted green for the occasion.
      On a July shopping trip, I bought two new shirts to go with the green jeans which were fast becoming my favorites. I'd only had a chance to wear one of the new shirts when disaster happened: I spilled a glass of red wine on a camping trip and ruined the green jeans.
       I stripped them off immediately and washed them in cool water. No luck. Someone said they had seen a TV spot that made a wine stain disappear with  a spray of Dawn detergent and peroxide. I made a trip to town, bought both, and treated the stain again. Still no luck.
        Once I arrived home I used my favorite stain remover: Oxyclean. Still no luck. The stain was getting lighter and I imagined I could wear the capris around the house or camping and no one would notice much.
        Then I decided to give it one last try. I filled my washer with hot water. Added 1/2 a cup of bleach and a little detergent. Agitated it nicely so it was well mixed and added my capris. Well, you know the result.
       Good ol' bleach took out the stain.
       But it also removed most of the lime color. The only thing green now is the pockets which didn't bleach out for some reason.
       So now that I've spent a small fortune on tops to go with lime capris and cleaning preparations to remove a stain, I no longer have any lime capris.
        There's a lesson in there somewhere.

Grand Vision

As J.P. Morgan would say, "If you have to ask how much it costs, you can't afford it."
I thought of that often this week as I spent a fantasy day at Michigan's magnificent Grand Hotel.

The cost of a room -- we're talking the basic, B&B rate, with a view of the fire escape out back -- is about ten times what I normally pay for motel accommodations at Red Roof or Motel 6.   But don't we all envy the lives of the rich and famous? And once in a while it's fun to pretend we aren't just ordinary middle class folks who do have to ask "How much?" So, my friend Mary Kay and I splurged on one night at the Grand Hotel.

It was extraordinary -- and surprisingly ordinary. The expansive view from the front porch is fabulous, with Lake Huron all around, the Mighty Mack bridge in the distance, a sumptuous garden below complete with a sparkling fountain and flowers everywhere. Even the carpeting in the parlor echos the geraniums on the porch.

Our third floor room was a glorious explosion of the red and green flower designs used throughout the building with two canopy double beds built so far off the ground that I almost needed a step stool to climb aboard. And this is where the fantasy falls apart. The bed is too high to sit on to tie your sneakers so you have to use the bright green tub chair which had been used so often for that task that it wobbled on a broken spring. Although we could hear a large air conditioning unit rumbling below for the public areas, our room was stuffy so we kept our windows open.

We decided to add a full dinner in the main dining room -- at $70 a piece -- and a $40 half-bottle of wine that afforded each of us a glass. A jazz combo playing during dinner helped to muffle the chatter. The food was good -- I had prime rib, Mary Kay ordered the whitefish -- but both of us have had better meals for much less. Our desserts were extraordinary -- my red velvet cheesecake tasted as good as it looked, though Mary's bread pudding fell shy of a rum-sauced pudding she ate in New Orleans.

We loved our dress-up evening -- coat and tie are required for gentlemen age 12 and older. After dinner we walked the porch to settle all that food then walked from lounge to lounge listening to a dance orchestra in one and a piano man in another.

I was surprised how many guests brought children, many of them stroller-size or darling little tie-wearing toddlers. The children were amazingly well behaved and their parents seemed to really enjoy their company. They played giant chess on the porch and croquet on the lawn. Parents danced with their kids. And the next day in the swimming pool, the kids had a great time climbing on a giant red and white snake that stretched across the pool.

Although we had a great time, it's not something we will ever do again. A friend of mine says something is worth whatever people are willing to pay, and the Grand Hotel simply isn't that grand. So for those of you unable to cough up $600 for one day of fantasy, don't worry. You aren't missing that much. The $10 fee to enter the grounds now seems like a tremendous bargain to me because strolling the porch and garden is by far the hotel's best attribute. If you want a little more, the hotel offers a lunch buffet for the public ($40) that includes admission to the grounds.

Then you can get the best of the Grand Hotel and spend the night in cheap motel accommodations on the mainland where the air conditioner works and you can sit on the edge of the bed comfortably. Isn't it great to know that rich folks may pay more but they don't always have it better?

Trifecta

     
It all started with "Big Lake, Big City," a sassy modern noir mystery for stage by Keith Huff (whose writing credits include "A Steady Rain" on Broadway, "House of Cards" for Netflix and television's "Mad Men.") My friend Pauline suggested we take a train to Chicago for a matinee performance at the Looking Glass Theater. A day trip. How could I resist?
        Then theater fan Pauline suggested maybe we could spend the night and catch two plays. The dark psychological thriller "Belleville" at Steppenwolf was added to the itinerary. Can't beat Steppenwolf. I'm willing to try anything they offer.
        Then Pauline got a good deal at a downtown hotel (the wonderful Wit), so the trip grew to two nights. Our Wednesday schedule was open. We thought we might walk over to Navy Pier for dinner and fireworks. Or catch something at the Shakespeare theater there. Or maybe a blues club.
         The Wit is just around the corner from The Goodman. Tickets for its latest extravaganza, a new musical version of "Jungle Book," weren't available online or at Hot Tix, but as Pauline keeps saying, you never know until you ask. So after checking into our hotel room, we stopped by The Goodman and happened upon half-price tickets in the middle of the mezzanine. I don't get better seats as a reviewer.
        In two days we racked up three wonderful shows. Broadway couldn't be better. "Jungle Book" is a snazzy, jazzy light-hearted musical, that's just a shade shy of four star perfection. It's headed to Boston next. I suspect a little fine-tuning of the  "story book" scene that opens and closes the show, may send it to Tony Award history.
        "Belleville" is wonderfully acted and engrossing, but it leaves too many questions about this poisonous romance. What's he doing now? Why does she say that? What IS this story about?
         "Big Lake, Big City" remains the shining star of the visit. Perfect casting, ambitious sets  (a Ferris wheel scene and "smokin'" bodies) and witty, laugh-out-loud comedy.
          "Belleville" and "Big Lake, Big City" continue through Aug. 25, "Jungle Book" closes Aug. 18. I recommend all three. Get 'em while it's hot!

Grand Canyon of Leenane

     
Question: If a tree falls in the forest and only 38  people are there to hear it, is the crash any less magnificent? Put another way: Would the Grand Canyon be less grand or Niagara Falls less spectacular if only a precious few knew these places existed?
      I don't think so.
      The measure of greatness is not always in the size of the crowd of admirers. 
       Which explains why award-winning director Fred Sebulske and his award-winning cast of Rose Anne Shansky, Amy Kaechele, Craig Hammerlind and Dylan Harris are pouring their hearts and talents into "The Beauty Queen of Leenane."(Read review) This dark Irish tale is being presented one more weekend at the intimate Dog Story Theater. If you enjoy absorbing acting and a well-written drama with plenty of humorous moments, then you'll want to be sure to get one of the 50 or so seats available at each performance. Otherwise, you could find out the Grand Canyon was here, and you missed it!

R+J=Hot stuff

When I see a really great show, I just can't stop telling people about it. That's the effect of Hope Summer Repertory's "Romeo + Juliet." Smokin'! This contemporary interpretation of the classic Shakespearean tragedy is great on so many levels. It makes use of modern media including gigantic video screen and cheeky little tweets from @bardofavon. The fight scenes are fantabulous -- with athletic somersaults and pop stands. The characters are well developed, with better connection to the audience than you usually see in Shakespeare. And the lovers -- whew, you'll believe these two are in love. Check out my review . The good news is there are six more performances in repertory, with the final one on Aug. 8. Be sure to catch one.

Gone fishing!

  
Is your summer busy? What with yard work and travels and squeezing in a few warm weather musts like farmers markets or barbeques or outdoor concerts, the summer disappears too fast. I mean, what happened to June? The next thing I know it's July and I haven't found time for a bike ride or an ice cream cone or paddling around the lake behind my house.
     So when my guy Steve insisted I drive all the way to his place in northern Michigan to finally use that fishing license we bought a month ago, I felt a little exasperated. I don't have time, I told him. I'm giving a presentation Tuesday to the Word Weavers group in Allendale. I need to go through my notes, practice my power point, collect hand outs.
      And there's that book I'm supposed to be writing. Full Moon Friday is the third book in my Jordan Daily News Mystery series. It's scheduled to come out June 13, 2014 -- the last Full Moon Friday the 13th until 2049. A year isn't a lot of time to write a book and get it edited and published, so I need to stay on track. I'm getting into some really fun parts of the story and I enjoy my writing time.
      And one of these days I've got to sort out all that medicare paperwork they've been sending me. I turn 65 in October so I need to figure out my alphabet of options: Part A, B, C and D. And clean the garage. And call a plumber about that pipe in the basement. And...
       But sometimes, when you love a guy, you got to make time for him and his passion -- fishing. So Saturday, for the first time this summer, I went fishing. It wasn't exactly slamma jamma, which is the way Steve likes to catch fish. We ended up with 32 keepers, more than enough for a nice mess of fish and plenty of left overs. But it took us all day.
           We caught a lot of little perch that are more of an irritation because you got to keep taking the hooks out of their mouths, trying not to hurt the squirmy little things, throw them back, replace your bait and do it all over again, without really adding to "the catch."
      And then there's the big irritations -- usually a rock bass or some other fighting fish that Steve says is fun to catch (we differ on the definition of fun) but also gets thrown back. Saturday Steve caught a whopper. A huge needle nose gar that looks like a prehistoric monster -- and it is. This is the kind of  fish Fred Flinstone probably brought home to Wilma. But Steve's gar just messed up our lines, tied them in knots and forced him to get out the pliers and scissors and redo some rigging. (after the ugly fish was returned to the water, of course.)
      But sitting back in the boat for six hours -- enjoying the sun and the Lake Leelanau scenery, exchanging lazy meaningless small talk with Steve and his grandson Mitchell, and getting lost in slow summer  moments to just think about clouds and ripples and whatever -- I remembered why I like fishing and why I need to make more time for it in my life.
       Slow down, just sit. Or as the minister said this morning at Church in the Park: Let go and Let God. Echoed in a song from "The Full Monty"--"Let it go, let it go, let it go."