Oh dear! Oh dear! A little tinkle in your ear!

     Back in the day, there were 3 TV networks, maybe one independent station and a PBS channel. Around midnight, each station would sign off for the night.
Static screens ruled the night until a test pattern popped up in the early morning.
Though I had to drag myself out of bed to get ready for school during the week, on the weekend I would be waiting for the arrival of that test pattern. It was a ritual.
1. Quietly sneak down stairs.
2. Turn on TV (manually... there were no remotes... I was the remote!)
     {Side story: I would be in my room glancing over some NFL or Hot Rod magazine when all of a sudden my father calls me downstairs in a voice that hearkened to some kind of emergency.
     "Mike!" I all but flew downstairs, not once stepping on any stair step, but swinging down the banister like a gymnast. "Turn the TV to channel 13.... 'ka-chink chink chink'... now 8.... 'ka-chink chink chink' ...now 6...." ad infinitum. End of side story}
3. Turn down the volume on the family Philco TV so as not to wake the house.
4. As TV warms up, head back upstairs (quietly) and gather pillows and a blanket.
5. Sneak back down downstairs (quietly).
6. Create a pillow fort in front of the TV screen. A nest of bedroom pillows, sofa pillows, and a blanket or two so close to the TV set that as the urban legend would have us believe...we could die of radiation poisoning.
7. As the test pattern ends... TV station disclaimers begin.
8. Suffer through an early morning broadcast of a rural TV farm report.
9. Watch a bloc of local commercials until the network feeds start to broadcast.
10. Then... watch a full half day of the best cartoons (and kid programming) Warner Bros, Filmation, Sid & Marty Krofft, etc... had to offer.
     (Unless we were playing sports. We were not allowed to watch Saturday Morning Cartoons on those days we had games. It was a rule my father laid down. He believed that TV ruined your eyes and would affect your vision and coordination on the field or court. See urban legend in #6.)
     So here I am all nestled comfortably in my pillow bunker, when all at once they start up with...

   The Saturday Morning Barrage of Sugary Sweet Cereal Commercials!
     Tony the Tiger's Greaaaaaaat Frosted Flakes. Sugar Bear for Sugar Crisp. Quisp and Quake. Snap, Crackle and Pop's Rice Krispies. Captain Crunch. Toucan Sam for Fruit Loops...
     {Side story on Fruit Loops. We all had cereals we liked, but then there were certain brands we wouldn't touch. It was easy for parents to find out which brand was a least favorite by purchasing a 6 or 8 variety pack and see what box sat unopened for any extended period of time. Apple Jacks? Special K?
     My least favorite cereal was Fruit Loops...to this day! But on one special Sunday during my high school years... the morning after a Doobie Bros concert which had become an illegal underage drink and partyfest ... on a delicate stomach, I had to eat a bowl of Fruit Loops in front of my father to prove I was not hungover. It was miserable. Each bite worst than the last. I ate 3/4 of a bowl when my father decided to join me. He took only one bite and realized the milk was spoiled. I spent the rest of that Sunday morning praying to the porcelain god! End of side story.}
    Well, no kid was going to last watching 20+ cereal commercials (those cereals that come with a prize inside the box) intermingled between ads for Hot Wheels, Barbies, GI Joes, Slip 'n' Slides, Super Balls, Frisbees, PF Flyers and Red Ball Jets... and not get hungry. Off to the kitchen to gorge on Life Cereal (this Mikey DID like it), Raisin Bran, or tumble weed thick Shredded Wheat! Eaten from a bowl that would somehow never voluntarily make it into the sink afterward.
     Back to the Nest... but wait! It had been invaded. It was now operating under a different flag. The new commander of the pillow fort? A younger brother. Only 4 years old and already making costly errors in his short lived life.
     "Out!"
     "You snooze, you lose!" Wait! What? I taught him that when I took over his... {fill in any fun activity}. It's what Big Brothers do. And now he is usurping my Saturday morning power of controlling the TV from a fort of my own device?
     Now, there is normal punishment and torture... and there is Big Brother punishment and torture. Can't breathe! Can't breathe! But if you can guess what happened next ...when a 'bran filled' loaded brother aims to unleash on his innocent, but obnoxious younger sibling... then I can spare you the gassy details. Younger brother pops up swinging and chases me through the house. Me laughing... all the way back to the kitchen for bowl number 2 or 3. Younger brother calls for a cease fire and joins the cereal brigade.
     Now, after so much cereal... a visit to the throne room is in order. And when you are a kid.. and know you are going to spend any extended period of time in there... you bring along a Marvel or DC comic with you! And so, as I perused the adventures of Dr. Bruce Banner, I heard the loudest scream ever from our house on old 54th Street. I will piece together the details:
1. Younger brother finishes breakfast.
2. Returns to nest.
3. Nest taken over by older sister who remarks... "You snooze, you lose!"
4. Younger brother retaliates by trying to unleash a gas attack aimed at her.
5. Can't muster any gas... BUT... accidentally PEES in her ear!
     We were told that the scream was heard as far as 6 blocks away... but it was also rumored that a US military spy plane... 3 passenger jets ... and both defunct Sputnik and Telstar satellites had recorded a strange, unidentified  'blip' at that exact time. But... that could be an urban legend!
     End note: In 2015, the television networks made the decision to no longer broadcast Saturday Morning Cartoons in favor of morning news shows. Heck! We had our own news show every 30 minutes... CBS 'In The News' with Christopher Glenn. But I digress.
     Whether it was competition from cable channels, the war on PC content, educational guideline discrepancies or costs... Saturday Morning Cartoons on the major networks were now gone. We have reached the end of an era! Long live  Scooby Doo, The Archies, Bugs & Road Runner, The Monkees, H.R. Puffenstuff, Fat Albert, et al... You shaped a generation of early morning rising, sugar buzzed TV cartoon addicts! It was a gas!

    

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One Minute Theater: That Old Gang of Mime

Welcome to One Minute Theater.
Spectacular drama to help you goof off... er... get you through your busy day!

Outside the Police Interrogation Room
Two officers stand in front of the one way glass discussing the person sitting alone inside the room. The suspect is a mime.
Cop #1: So? Who is this clown?
Cop #2:  I believe he is a mime!
Cop #1: A what?
Cop #2: A mime.
Cop #1: Did you get anything out of him?
Cop #2: Not a word.
Cop #1: Really? So what’s his story?
Cop #2: Well! He seems to have been confined in a box at some point.
Cop #1: And he told you this?
Cop #2: Again, not a word. But it must have been some place that was windy.
Cop #1: So! He told you that?
Cop #2: As I said... he hasn’t uttered one word!
Cop #1: I don’t follow. Where are you getting all the details about the box and weather?
Cop #2: He described them to me.
Cop #1: Oh! It was then he stopped talking...?
Cop #2: He's never once uttered a word.
Cop #1: I don’t follow. Hmmm! What's with the clown make-up?
Cop #2: I believe the white face paint is used to help exaggerate his facial expressions.
Cop #1: So! He’s not a Caucasian, then?
Cop #2: He appears to be.
Cop #1: I don’t follow.
Cop #2: He’s what they call a 'street performer'.
Cop #1: He sells to kids on the street?
Cop #2: What? No! He doesn’t sell anything, but he does take donations.
Cop #1: Ahhh! A bunko artist!
Cop #2: I believe he’s more a performance artist.
Cop #1: Ahhh! Performing some community service?
Cop #2: Er.. no... while he does perform for the community... er.. people... I don’t believe it's a service.
Cop #1: What’s he charged with?
Cop #2:  Intimidation. Accosting a spectator. It started out with some imaginary rope trick. He just kept pulling at it... and pulling... pulling...
Cop #1: So! It was a tied up spectator who called out for police assistance?
Cop #2: No! But after the rope routine... he came over to the crowd... snatched and grabbed a police officer’s hat, put it on his head and started to comically mimic the officer in front of the crowd... making large, menacing gestures. It provoked laughter from the spectators. A lot of laughter... at the officer's expense.
Cop #1: So... that is when a spectator in the crowd got hurt?
Cop #2: Yes.... well... no spectator. It was... Me! He hurt my feelings. Look! Ridiculing an authority figure by insulting his position of authority is the first step toward civil disobedience, I’ll have you know...
(The mime gets up from his chair and walks over to the one way glass. He pretends to clean the glass a bit then looks out and starts acting like he is rubbing his eyes and starting to cry.)
Cop #2: (Quietly, while tapping on the glass with his finger) You... are... a dead mime!
(The mime staggers as if suffering a heart attack.. then collapses... while pulling a plastic flower out of his sleeve which he holds against his chest... finally lying 'dead' on the Interrogation Room's floor.)
Cop #1: (Laughs) What a clown!
Cop #2: Mime!... A  ^#%#& Mime!

~ Finis

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Every Day a Little Death!

     Years ago, I was standing offstage at the Scott Theatre in Ft. Worth, Texas listening to the orchestra play a Stephen Sondheim lilting musical passage from the show 'A Little Night Music'. It was the intro to the song 'Every Day a Little Death' and on stage was the very talented actress/performer and friend Shannon Avnsoe. She was about to take command of the entire show and audience with her performance. The same musical performance that became not only a breath taking, show stopping moment for me... but one that has continued to stay in my psyche to this very day. The memory of that song has reaffirmed my spiritual belief over and over again.. if you are not living, you are dying. And in the case of someone close dying, the whole process will try to take a little bit of your spirit away, too.
     Ever hear somebody say 'my life really changed after I lost {fill in relative, sibling, friend, etc...}? Sure. Life IS change. Nothing ever stays the same. Our memories are all but chapters in a scrapbook or novel we have created (and seemingly edit) in our mind over time. For so many people their novels have lots of crossover stories and characters, yet no two parallel each other completely. But isn't that the definition of reality? No two people experience 'the absolute truth' the same way. But I digress!
     When I lost my father, it was quick. He was shot on a Monday morning. He died in the hospital by midnight that night. That may not sound quick to some, but now with Mom fighting Alzheimer's for 16 years, it was the blink of an eye.
     Mom started with dementia. How do I know? I had her tested by a friend who worked for the Mental Health Association. She surprisingly passed. But only a few months later, some local family doctor diagnosed her with Alzheimer's and all but sealed her fate. Months in a nursing home in her old hometown, a year or two in a senior living apartment in a nursing facility in Indy... followed by years in the dementia ward... followed by more years in the Alzheimer's unit. Every day a little death.
     Note: The following words are not a dig at any of my siblings or extended family members. I, for one, know that we have our own lives to lead and that we all grieve in our own way. But... if you can't handle the battle... don't commit to the battlefield. Some generals appear... want to take charge and give orders... and then conveniently slip away from the war front. I have seen it. I have lived it. I have 3 out of state siblings who lead very busy lives. I, on the other hand, have decided to stay close/visit often. But please! I am far from the perfect, loving son. In fact, of all my family members, I just wasn't as close to her as they appeared to be. Through my college years, we just pulled apart. We later fought like cats and dogs. There were years, almost a decade, we didn't even communicate. She was convinced I was just being childish, me being certain that I definitely was. We finally did make peace... but soon after she fell sick and became hospitalized. To be released from the hospital, she had to be admitted to a rehab facility which fell on me (and my 4 year old daughter). We had to find a nursing facility and get her admitted all over one Thanksgiving holiday. Memorable, huh? She was moved to an Indy nursing facility a year or so later and she has been there for a decade and a half since.
     It's not guilt that keeps me visiting her. It's more personal. I believe it has to do with abandonment issues. I have lost a lot of very close friends and associates over the years. Some by death, most by distance. Facebook has been a marvel at rekindling some friendships. {Note: A true, lasting friendship is the ability to find someone over any space and time... and pick up doing the same stupid shit you were doing when you were last together.} I rarely say 'goodbye' to any one close to me. I may say 'Later' or 'Late'... but never the finality of a goodbye!
Good day, sir! I said...Good day! ... aha Not me! Never Can Say Goodbye said the Jackson Five? I get it!
     When it comes to visiting the nursing home, it's gird your loins and expect the unexpected. People fighting to recognize you... people wandering... making weird, inappropriate, some time scary noises... people in all matter of dress. Most are sleeping or quiet, others screaming for help or assistance... as if some orderly is going to take them back in time to a happier time... at home.. with maybe a cat... and a garden. But again, I digress. I visit her because it is what I do. And I do have to psyche myself up to visit the nursing home. It is as if I'm about to play basketball or soccer. I then leave emotionally spent as if I went 6 rounds with a UFC championship fighter. Or better stated... the feeling of just having performed a 3 act play to a handful of Sunday matinee blue hairs who don't applaud but sit and discuss dinner arrangements during the curtain call. Thanks for coming, here's your hat!
      Leaving the facility does not give me a warm, fuzzy feeling either. Quite the opposite. It reinforces my abandonment issues. I have to go. Sorry! Some probably might say this emotionally hearkens back to the divorced dad/visitation drive to Chicago trade offs with my daughter... especially when she was very young. Or maybe it is the loss of my father, Mike Sr. Or even heading off to Texas for college, leaving friends and family in my proverbial tumbleweed dust. Hey! Don't look over your shoulder, they might not be there when you look.
     I know am not extending my mother's life by visiting... even though she still finds my lack of a filter in most situations worth the price of admission. At 86, small, frail and confined to a wheelchair... she is not experiencing a quality of life we'd wish on any parent. but she is still here. Fighting to remember the whos and whats. But... for a long suffering Alzheimer's patient... she does remember me. My biggest reward. And that is the point... the all of it all! For a long suffering Alzheimer's patient who was supposed to have lost touch with reality years ago, she remembers me (by name, even)... But then again, who could forget a real, larger than life cartoon character like myself? Yep!
      So I continue to visit regularly with no set schedule. I get there as often as I can. Being respectful of others. Keeping my feelings in check (since my mouth won't stay there).  And what I have come to take from all of this is that... we handle what we can handle! This life lesson has taught me... we can appear to stay strong and positive, but for the caregiver... everyday a little death!

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Wake up! It's time to go to bed!

     I don't sleep. I gave that up years ago. I'm not a night owl... I just don't like long periods of inactivity. I am not hyper.. maybe slightly ADHD... ok maybe moderately ADHD... a tiny tiny bit dyslexic... and I can ramble on for hours... but I am not hyper. I cat nap. I catch up on sleep in quick 20 minute or 2 hour intervals, no in between. I don't take pills.. I don't drink (any more)...I meditate. Self hypnosis. Maybe these self hypnosis sessions are subliminally having me sleepwalk and text my credit card numbers to some shady 3rd party, but while I am 'out'... I am out! I have been told over and over again not to worry... which used to be impossible for someone like me with anxiety issues. But I have learned to 'Let it Go'. I am far from lazy. When I think on just how lazy I am I look at my projects... (and to-do) list:
     (In no particular order):
1. Work on Creative Kids TV (an internet TV site for kids). Editing, tweaking and drumming up sponsors.
2. My new (almost finished) book: Flash Floods and Texas Tall Tales.
3. My website: www.creativetalentworkshop.com
4. My commercial and voice work (currently voicing a video game in the works)... with an agent that sends me projects at all hours of the day and night!
5. My classes in Broad Ripple and on the Southside.. and soon Southeast side.
Which includes writing scripts and monologues, writing songs & composing music, directing & editing class films and projects... month after month after month.
6. Visiting Mom in the Alzheimer's unit of her Nursing home.
7. IT freelance work for places like Broad Ripple Automotive, Culvers, InDetail Electric, Ricks Kustoms and a growing list of needy clients.
8. Touching base with my awesome (and just as busy) daughter.
9. Quick lunch or meal with close friends (like the Kellers, my adopted second family).
10. Check in on Mad Dog Mike who has never once let his disability get the way of a spirited, shouting match between good friends... who disagree on the 'greatness' of the Dallas Cowboys!
And, like the tag line to a bad resume... 'many, many more'!
     I don't sleep because I am chasing an imaginary carrot. My crazy sense of self-worth is tied to just how busy I am... or can I punish myself enough to get even busier. I have lost quite a few girlfriends over the years... from being 'self involved'. I guess that is better than cheating with someone else... but is it?
     I adore my extended godfamily of Leslie, Hans, C & C! They have replaced my own dysfuctional siblings. Note: No one can hear the words 'I'm sorry!' when everyone is shouting... and tuning you out in the first place! I would and could not survive without close friends like the Herrick's (Lynn is my Angel), the Livindis, Ryan, Rudy & Roger, Dr. Death!!!, Team Deemer, Vegan Not-see Kraig, Ben & Nat, JM, Lifestyle Lizbeth, all my Creative Talent Workshop Family and Timmy Mac. I have the support of hundreds of friends & associates... and feel the love from far more than 10x that amount. But I don't sleep. I just think!
     Have you ever been walking somewhere and suddenly you feel you don't have your keys, your wallet, your glasses... and come to realize ...they are with you the whole time? I think I have narrowed down my personal psychosis to that feeling being a constant nusiance. Hey! My deal, right?
     So, I blog! It's better than the therapist's couch, in theory. You may disagree. And I will catnap before the next long night since the Sandman and I do not get along.
So, next time you catch me on some time coded social media outlet... and wonder why I am making comments, quips & Burma Shaves at all hours... just remember, I don't sleep!
     Peace out!

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Harambe the Gorilla & The Cincinnati Zoo shoot

      A few years back, Shari Baum and I were filming one of our yearly Summer Adventures TV series episodes for Fox19 TV out of Cincinnati. One such episode had us at the Cincinnati Zoo filming above the gorilla enclosure. With our back to the gorillas (Harambe, in particular), a sizeable clump of shrubbery came whizzing past our heads. The strength of his heave was as impressive as it was daunting. The great ape obviously did not like who we were and what we were doing above HIS habitat. The keeper warned us about making any kind of gesture in response... even with 25 feet, a moat and wall between all of us.
      Now, what I have taken from the loss of the great silverback is one of sorrow, but also necessity. I have read the recent article written by a gorilla keeper about the unpredictability of these seemingly gentle giants. And a screaming child in the moat was probably not putting this mighty ape at ease. In my unscientific, but personal opinion, Harambe had to be put down as the quickest and safest way to end that horrible situation. These are not trained circus animals (or animals who have intermingled with humans since birth like Koko the sign language Gorilla)... these are unpredictable creatures of nature who have set up and see themselves controlling their environment... artificial as it may be. Seemingly to some, he may have looked as if he was protecting the child, but to the trained eye (as stated by the experienced gorilla keeper) Harambe could have crushed, bitten or torn the little boy apart in the wink of an eye... and in public view. There was no alternative plan other than to follow the emergency protocol. 
     Though Harambe will be greatly missed by zoo visitors, I truly believe the Cincinnati Zoo followed the right procedure... the correct steps for such a situation... the best one until a better one can be implemented ...for the safety of all creatures involved.

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Mars Colony: Living in a Fishbowl

     Let's get past the media hype and delve into NASA's plan of getting humans to Mars by 2030. A complicated trip using technology not developed yet, seems easy! Here is the trip by the numbers (and a few facts) ...
1. Mars has no spinning core like Earth. With no core, Mars generates no magnetic field to protect it from the bombardment of radiation from space. All astronauts/colonists will die from radiation poisoning in a very short time.
2. The trip to Mars with today's technology will take 6 - 8 months. A snap for astronauts who have spent extended time on the ISS (space station). But... the ISS has leg room. The capsule taking astronauts to Mars will be the size of a small minivan. Ask any family making a cross country drive in a minivan how long they could last traveling together non-stop... 6-8 months will probably not be the figure they come up with.

3. There is currently no cryo/sleep technology that would allow astronauts the ability to hibernate for such a long trip.

4. Communication black outs. The further away from Earth, the less immediate contact the astronauts will have with Earth. Unless, they create a relay station. Or assemble space station (pit stops) along the way. Currently, unfeasible.

5. No contact... trouble awaits. With no instructions from NASA, the astronauts will have to rely on themselves and their on board computers. Imagine dealing with a check engine light while a car is in operation. Pulling over to fix a bad operating system seems not an option.
6. Radiation bombardment while traveling in space on such a long trip will inevitably catch up with the astronauts. No emergency doctor house calls in space. How long will it take to recover once they land on Mars?
7. 3D Printer will do it all. From creating meals (some doughy concoction flavored to fool the taste buds) to creating tools... the astronauts general store will be the 3D printers sent on the trip. The service life and variety of duties asked of these machines have yet to be fully determined.

8. Landing a vehicle with humans on Mars... not yet. There is no definitive system that can safely land a space capsule on Mars. After a 6 month trek, it would be devastating to lose the craft on landing. Landing a craft on Mars will have no room for error.. and with lack of communication from Earth even more difficult.

9. Living pods/modules... supplies.... support must be sent to the Mars landing site ahead of the capsule carrying the astronauts. The loss of any craft carrying support and supplies will delay the mission. Again, delivering the payload on such a scale has never been attempted. We are basically sending storage/work/living units on a 7 month journey, to a hostile unforgiving environment... and land them intact. The fishbowl has arrived!

10. There are no trees. This is no desert. Mars is a desolate planet. There are no resources. Even the most creative thinking survivalist will fail on this trek. You can't build a fire for warmth... because you can't build a fire. And even if the ice on Mars can be converted to water, what water treatment technology must accompany the support supplies? Since everything to keep these people alive must come from Earth... what are the basics that must come along? Including power generators, living quarters and storage units. And where will all the trash go?

11. Setting up a base... is like setting up a fish tank. The astronauts will have to live contained in a space (and space gear) designed to constantly protect them.. and not break down. There have been tests on such habitats in deserts and desolate places on Earth... but why aren't these tested at the bottom of the ocean... a place where a hole (or breakdown) in the habitat would put you in the same danger as being in radiated space?

12. The trip to Mars seems a one way trip. The Earth and Mars would have to align to make the travel time in space more optimal. That seems to be every 1½ years or so. If the astronauts do land on Mars... at a minimum they would have to wait a year or so for the return trek. Feasible? Not yet!

13. Lucky #13. So.. Martian colonists do survive and flourish. What makes us think that in 20, 30, 40 years these people will not create a conflict and come back to Earth to start war with humankind? Martian babies!
     A child born on Mars will weigh significantly less than their human counterpart. Returning to Earth, the Martian born will weigh 3-6x their normal weight. 150 lb Martian man = 450 lb Martian Man on Earth! Seems like an easy fight. But they would probably bombard us with a virus, nuke or some Martian produced, reality TV show re-run! Oh, the humanity!

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Et Cetera... Et Cetera... Great! Now I Gotta Pee!

      About 40 years ago, the Starlight Musicals (Indy's premiere, live outdoor  musical theater situated on the Butler Campus next to Hinkle Fieldhouse) was winding down its long and storied run. Much like Beef & Boards, the Indianapolis north side dinner theater which also featured former A-list stars turned touring show gypsies, Starlight faced a diminishing fan base and mounting operating costs. Beef & Boards took on new management, Starlight closed its gates.
     Outdoor musicals, much like outdoor movies, is an interesting breed of entertainment. While many will flock to concerts or multi-media stage shows, the outdoor musical had an eclectic fan base. Regular theatergoers would have to adapt to the experience and all that it entailed. Such an experience might seem more like attending a baseball game than a typical theatrical experience. Case in Point:
1. The Weather.
Not just rain, but rain outs, intermittent rain, heavy winds and delays.
2. Bugs
Natural or electrical (most singers were using body microphones)
3. Replacements
"The part of {NAME of CHARACTER in the PLAY} will be performed tonight by {NOT the STAR you paid to see}!" Starlight touring shows usually had 1 - 3 popular, if not famous talent featured in any given performance. Lose the star, bad word of mouth.
4. The Weather
Again. A long stretch of summer rain outs over a half decade of theatrical seasons inspired the management of Starlight to build a permanent overhang over the stage... and then one over the audience... as a way to protect the performance from the elements. Of course, rain does come down sideways... and lightning will still put a show into delay since actors are electronically wired and performing under wired stage lights. Actually... the Starlight overhang took away from the 'star light' experience... watching the stars under the stars. But I digress...
     This is a different story. Living only a few blocks from the Starlight Musicals and an actor myself, I was well aware of their schedules, their stars... and their least secure entryways for sneaking in.
Ploy #1
Ask an adventurous date to the show. Dress up and sneak in. It's good to know the ushers (usually high school buddies who could care less if you sneaked in)... just don't come into contact with one who holds a grudge or vendetta. A dressed up set of teenagers (aw... on a date!) would appear more common and hidden in plain sight than some couple caught in ragged jeans and sneakers with a pair of wire cutters.
Ploy #2
A new Musical arrived and set up one day ... every week ... during the run of the season. Sneak in (see ploy #1) and watch a quick run through rehearsal of the show during the set up. Many ushers were hired on these off nights to clean the audience seating area, so the place had a lot of activity that caused most productions in rehearsal to all but take no notice.
Ploy #3
Go with your parents. Make them pay the growing ticket price that was probably  the real death knell to the whole shebang.
     Well! This is a story about Ploy #2! Yul Brynner was back on tour with the 'King and I'. He was middle aged, working less in film and decided to give the King of Siam another go round. He was also rumored to have cancer (he smoked like a chimney). So, if this was to be his final hurrah... I thought I'd make my own 'TADA!' ... sneak in and watch him walk through his steps of preparation before a certain sold out weekend.
     I was able to sneak through the back fence easy enough. No second looks from security. {Please! I'm an actor! I know my way around a theater.. and also look like a bored actor who just wanted to walk off some extra energy by getting away from the dressing room!} I touched base with a few usher friends of mine who gave me the green light to land unimpeded in the second row. And there he was The King of Siam. Even wearing a warm up suit, he was an imposing figure. He acted a few scenes. Sang a few songs. He walked through some trouble spots with the cast. And here I was... sitting in the second row.. wide eyed... taking it all in as a fan... an actor... a future direcrtor/producer.....THEN... IT HAPPENED...
     Just when you think the planets have aligned... that your plan is foolproof... and there are no flies in the ointment... the flies arrive. All of a sudden I am surrounded by ushers. They are sneaking beers... and cigarettes. And... they're talking amongst themselves in such a way I was certain that I would soon to be thrown out, if not arrested, for trespassing.
     AND THEN... Yul Brynner stops the rehearsal. He walks to the front of the stage and explains to this unruly throng ... and the stars in the sky... that this was not a performance... and that the entire theater was to be cleared! The old King of Siam could not have given a more direct order! So, I sheepishly rise from my center stage, 2nd row perch to try to amble out anonymously... when I am stopped... by YUL BRYNER!
     Yul Brynner looks at me directly... knowing how I was taking all this in with wide eyed wonder.. and he says "YOU! YOU MAY STAY!" I dropped down into my seat immediately... amid the cat calls and rumblings from my now departing usher friends. I was given a gift from Yul Brynner. I was given the opportunity to watch a full scale production come up to speed.. during the set up in a new town. The same knowledge I would use as a director/producer years later with a production company I started after college. I saw Yul Brynner laugh at some dialogue mistakes. I heard him sing and perform to an audience of one. AND...
I had to pee.
     One of the greatest theatrical opportunities of a lifetime and Mother Nature is punching me in the bladder. But... I can't go to the bathroom... I was given a pass! A magic ticket! One most theatergoers would give their eye tooth to experience... and all the while my molars were floating. I stayed as long as I could.. then I could stand it no more.
     I gave the King a gracious nod and ducked out using a back escape route... taking time out behind one of Butler's beautiful fir trees... off for home.
     I have told that story quite a few times over the years... not to brag... much. I believe the moral to the story was that when you are so engrossed in something... something for which you hold so much passion... most people attuned to the situation can read it... and open an avenue for you to take it all in. I can only express... don't drink a 44oz Big Gulp before you find yourself in that situation.

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