Don — Page 112

Back Home: Me & The Marcher

January 22, 2017 at 10:20 am by Claudia

Groggy, but back home again. The moving process is a long one. I stay in a high rise in Hartford, which means that after I finally pack everything, (and yes, I bring a lot) I have to make at least 20 trips up and down via the elevator and then to my car, which happened to be rather far out in the parking lot. Then a two hour drive home. Then, unloading the car and putting everything away. The whole thing took me most of the day. I finally finished around 5 p.m.

And since I’ve been staying up later due to the play, my sleeping hours are slightly off.

I went through most of the day with only one contact from Don via a quick text that let me know he was okay and safe. Cell service was almost non-existent; I imagine 500,000 extra citizens tweeting, using their phones to take pictures, and IGing made the coverage pretty spotty.

Finally about 4:30, I got a call. Don was back at the bus waiting to leave at 6. His knees were really feeling it! He said it was the most astounding day. He had never seen that many people – so many people that, at times, he simply couldn’t move. A sea of pink hats, of marchers as far as the eye could see. Truly powerful. He had great conversations with lots of people, figured out how to get around on the Metro, and marched and marched and marched some more.

I’m so proud of him. He’s very tired today, of course, and I will be sure to ask more questions of him, but he didn’t get home until after midnight, and he had to drive through heavy fog. I happened to be awake when he got home, so I ran downstairs to greet him.

While he was gone, I was on Twitter reading about the crowds marching all over the world, including Antarctica(!) Unbelievable and so inspiring! Everywhere. 500,000 in Washington, DC, 250,000 in Chicago, over 200,000 in NYC, and 750,000 in Los Angeles. Small towns, state capitols, north, south, east, west, in the heartland, down south – everywhere. Paris, London, Australia, New Zealand, Africa, South America, Canada, Mexico, all over Europe. EVERYWHERE. (Oops! I’m using ALL CAPS like that man’s tweets!) Let me try that again: Everywhere.

Free Speech, as granted by the Constitution. A peaceful protest, and the largest in the history of the United States.

Hartford was gearing up for its protest as I was packing up the car. The Capitol is just across the street from the apartment building. People were streaming into Hartford from all over. 10,000 of them. Side note: I got to meet the Governor of CT, Dannel Malloy, on Opening Night. I’m a big admirer, so shaking his hand was an honor. He marched on Saturday.

Today, we are attending a local meeting where we’re going to hear from a woman who ran for Congress (and lost) in November. She is a powerful presence and I look forward to learning from her.

Forgot to add: On my way home, I stopped at a rest stop. I was wearing my Nasty Women Vote T-shirt in honor of the day. As I left the bathroom and walked back to my car, a woman shouted out, “Hey Lady! I love your shirt!” As I said on Facebook: We’re everywhere.

But back to being home. It’s lovely. Hartford was lovely as well, but there’s no place like home. I’m back at my desk in the studio/office. I’m looking out at the mountains in the distance. Don’s downstairs. I had a great conversation with my always fascinating and feisty Little Z last night.

All is well.

Happy Sunday.

What to Write On This Day?

January 20, 2017 at 10:25 am by Claudia

I was going to simply post a photo of Barack Obama today, but I worried about using someone’s photo without their permission. I see far too much of that in blogland; grabbing photos and graphics from Pinterest or elsewhere online, with no attribution and seemingly no sense that it isn’t right to use someone else’s creation without permission.

So I decided not to do that. Then I thought that I simply wouldn’t post because this day is a dark day for me and for the majority of Americans (by 3 million votes) who do not want that man in office. I am not watching the television. I am not reading anything about the events unfolding in Washington, DC.

But then I thought you might want a wee distraction.

So. Don is going to Washington DC in the wee hours of Saturday morning. He managed to get a space on a bus leaving at 4 a.m. I’m relieved that he’s on a bus because I worried about the mechanics of driving, finding a place to park, finding a way into the city. I briefly considered chucking it all and going with him, but I feel I should be here.

May I say how proud I am of this man? He’s marching for women, for our nephew, for the equal rights of all, for everything we hold dear. It will be stimulating and inspiring and exhausting – all of that and more. So when I arrive home tomorrow, Don will be in Washington. I won’t see him until the early hours of Sunday, I imagine.

The Ghostlight Project was powerful. That is Darko speaking to all of us in the photo. We gathered in the lower lobby of the theater, actors, theater staff and a host of people who love the arts. There were songs sung, quotes from Shakespeare, speeches by the managing director and the artistic director. Since we had just heard that The Demagogue-in-Chief wants to cut the funds for the National Endowment for the Arts and the National Endowment for the Humanities, we were reeling. Isn’t that what dictators and fascists do? Cut any support for the arts, for theater, for music, for dance, for literature, for the visual arts, for public television and public radio? They have to. Because artists of all kinds speak up, speak out, save our souls, give us beauty, make us think, and challenge those in power. They are threatening to demagogues because they speak truth to power.

Do you know how many people I know and love who work in the theater? Who depend on the theater for their employment, their living expenses? (Including my husband and me.) This leaves me shaken to my core.

There were forms for us to fill out. Here I am with mine:

I will keep fighting.

Everything we hold dear, everything that has changed and improved, all the gains we have made, are in danger.

I will miss the Obamas.

As of noon, I will no longer have a President.

Tonight is Opening Night. I will spend the day reading and packing some of my things. I’m proud, as always, to be a part of Hartford Stage and the brilliant work they do. I’m proud of this production of The Comedy of Errors. This is what we do. We bring light and sadness and humor and thoughtful, considered work to our audiences. This particular production has benefitted from a grant from the NEA.

We need the Arts. A society without them will quickly collapse.

Potpourri on Thursday

January 19, 2017 at 11:10 am by Claudia

• I’m posting a bit late this morning. I got up and realized I needed some half & half for my second cup of coffee. I’m incapable of doing anything until I finish my first cup. After that, I pulled on my jeans and a sweater and ran over to a nearby shop to buy some. Came back, made the second cup, signed onto the laptop…and my husband called. And now it’s 10:27.

A bit of a potpourri for you today:

• Staging the curtain call yesterday. The show is frozen now. I went to the performance last night, but I didn’t take any notes. It’s time to let the actors do their thing and trust that those notes will be incorporated at some point. Actually, this is a great cast and they appreciate notes and take them seriously. Opening night is tomorrow night. And then homeward I go on Saturday.

• When I arrive back home, Don will most likely not be there as he is doing everything in his power to make it to the Women’s March in Washington D.C. on Saturday. Bravo, Don! He was torn about the whole thing, thinking he should be here for my opening night, but I encouraged him to go to D.C. Much more important. I’m frustrated and have been frustrated that I can’t be there, so he will represent the two of us. Fingers crossed that it all works out.

• Tonight at 5:30, I am taking part in what is called the Ghostlight Project. The ghostlight in a theater is the single bulb on a metal stand that is left to illuminate the stage at night. The Theater Community across the country is taking part in this national day of light, with a pledge to uphold the values we hold dear: inclusion, participation and compassion for everyone in the community. We will each bring a light as we reaffirm the importance of these values.

• As we face the inauguration tomorrow, I want to direct you to this post by John Pavlovitz. I don’t know whether you’re familiar with his blog, but it has fast become a favorite of mine and of my sister, as well. John is a minister with an activist’s heart. Today’s post: Let the Record Show, says everything I believe. Please give it a read.

As I lie awake at night thinking about what is to come, filled with fear and foreboding, I often go back to one thing: That man who shall be nameless mocking a disabled reporter. No matter how he tries to spin it these days, we saw it. Over and over and over again.

A vote for this man said that was acceptable behavior. No other way to spin that, either. Those who voted for him either thought that making fun of someone with a disability was okay, or by compartmentalizing that behavior, turned a blind eye to it. Equally reprehensible.

My nephew is disabled. By voting for him, they’ve given a ‘free and clear’ to making fun of my nephew – or anyone with a disability. You don’t want to mess with me when it comes to my nephew. Trust me.

Years ago, actually, not very long ago, this alone would driven him out of the race.

What have we come to?

I don’t have to ‘come together’ with anyone who, by voting for that sorry excuse for a human being, said that mocking a disabled person was worthy behavior for a candidate for the highest office in the land. Frankly, I don’t have to come together with anyone who thinks that’s acceptable in any fellow human being. And the argument that he ‘didn’t really mean it?’ Yes, he did. He means everything he says as we will discover all too soon.

As to the voters who condoned that, who, by their silence, tacitly agreed? They’ll have to make their peace with it.

I could write a month’s worth of blog posts about what I find abhorrent and unacceptable about that man. You already know how I feel. I’ve made it abundantly clear.

But, as Don and I often say, that one thing – the mocking – was enough for us to wash our hands of him. It’s the behavior of an insecure, narcissistic bully, which I strongly suspect he has been all of his life. I have always fought for those who were bullied, even when I was a kid.

I’m not about to stop now.

Happy Thursday.

Back Home: Me & The Marcher

What to Write On This Day?

Potpourri on Thursday

Lambs Like to Party

A Note

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