Cheers and Bombs

Monday, April 15^th, my tax extension safely in the mail, I accepted my friend Mark Shanahan’s invitation to meet for a beer and discuss life as we sometimes do. We joined up a little after 9:30 at the Broadway Dive, a familiar and convenient haunt for us on the Upper West Side, the kind of place “where everybody knows your name.”  Most nights multiple silent television screens at the Dive carry sports action from near and far.  And indeed, games were still on view, including a continuous loop of the Masters playoff from the day before.  Mark and I concurred on the artistry and sportsmanship of Angel Cabrera, then talked about what was happening in our own lives, all the while following another continuous loop:  a bomb exploding on Boylston Street in Boston, a fallen runner with people hastening to his aid, first responders rushing in to pull away flags and barriers, a young couple fleeing the scene with the man pausing to reach down and pick up an object, victims being wheeled off on gurneys and in wheelchairs, police directing traffic and stringing tape to cordon off the bomb site, followed by a silent newscaster at safe remove elsewhere in Back Bay. Then back to the top, the explosion, television marking time with what little was known in the hope more details were soon to come. 

Years ago, when I first graduated from college, I drove a cab in Boston.  Had I told Mark about that?  “Thousands of times”, he reassured me.  Then, as another shot of a reporter on a quiet street came up, Mark hastened to say that he had lived for a while just down the street from where the reporter stood.  Mark’s an actor and he’d worked in Boston with the Huntington Theatre Company. His housing was just off camera, nearby.   

Our discussion rambled through Boston memories, work, the 2013 Yankees and a 1981 Mets retrospective airing on a screen next to the disaster, until Mark pointed out a patron sitting at the very end of the bar in the Dive.  The man looked remarkably like Norm from Cheers.  Cheers, the Boston bar just down Beacon Street , used for external shots for the television show.  Cheers, not very far from the spot where some of the reporters were parsing the events of the day, sorting reality and fiction.  In New York, a Norm look alike nestled on a corner barstool chatting with friends.  But for the fact that the Dive is smaller than Cheers, or at least the Cheers set, this “Norm” could have been in the middle of shooting a scene.  On the screens above, the news loop continued, far from the norm, a new Boston Massacre.

We continued to study “Norm”, the uncanny resemblance.  He’d aged a bit from when I’d last seen him...on the air, to be sure.  Mark had seen his doppelganger, the real actor, more recently, in Houston.  The actor being George Wendt.  Mark was performing at the Alley Theatre in Houston, when a 2007 tour of Twelve Angry Men played at Theatre Under The Stars, also in Houston.  Mark had made the time to see that production and spoke highly of George Wendt’s performance. We finished our beers and continued our speculation on Norm.  Overhead the Boston bomb exploded again and again, and Angel Cabrera continued chipping to three feet on the 18^th.  While the Mets’ retrospective moved to the 1986 World Series with Mookie Wilson stepping in against Roger Clemens, we got up to leave.  

Norm/George was catching some fresh air outside the bar talking to a friend.  As we passed, to my surprise, Mark interrupted to tell George how much he’d enjoyed George’s performance in Houston.  I was unaware when exactly Mark’s conversion to conviction had taken place, but he was right.  George Wendt was every bit as at home at the Dive as Norm was at Cheers.  A few pleasantries passed, we said goodnight, and Mark headed uptown.  I turned back to go downtown and interrupted Mr. Wendt again, to ask about an actor he and I both knew.  Out of curiosity I asked what brought him to our “home bar” on the Upper West Side.  He couldn’t have been more gracious. He’d been doing a play reading and stopped in with some New York friends. Not wanting to intrude any more than I already had, I turned south toward home.  (When I got home and told the tale to my wife, she quickly reminded me that Mr. Wendt was currently appearing in Breakfast At Tiffany’s on Broadway.) Monday night, a dark night for his show, provided time for a reading and a chance to relax with friends at the Dive, where not everybody, but indeed somebody knew his name.

As I said good-bye to George/Norm, I turned and looked down Broadway.  Six or seven blocks downtown, right outside what looked to be my building, flashing lights from all sorts of emergency vehicles flared over Broadway.  I hurried on toward home. I was relieved to discover the activity was cordoned off a block below our building.  Broadway was closed off in both directions between 95^th and 97^th streets. The scene was filled with ambulances, police cars, fire engines, and emergency services vehicles.

For all the bright lights, the scene was remarkably silent.  I suspected a possible situation at the 96^th Street IRT station.  I asked a fellow bystander what he knew.  He gave me a brief explanation before he aimed his camera at a bomb squad technician advancing on a suspicious package near the side of the island dividing 96^th Street.

This was not a set for a television series.  I’ve seen plenty of filming in my neighborhood. This was not Boston.  Or was it?  I was in the same position as the news people in Boston, thrust into sorting reality from fiction.  It was a swift sort.  I left the scene, electing not to watch a bomb technician do his work from less than a block away.  I went home and watched from two blocks away and five stories high.  I watched until the yellow tape was taken down, watched until the lights went off and the emergency vehicles headed off, watched until traffic moved up and down Broadway again.  Then returned to my living room to watch, yet again, a bomb explode on Boylston Street in Boston, a fallen runner with people hastening to his aid, first responders rushing in to pull away flags and barriers, a young couple fleeing…unreality that was all too real.   

http://myupperwest.com/upper-west-side/nypd-bomb-squad-investigates-suspicious-package-on-upper-west-side/

           

Jennings & Williams Gang Up On Watson

Trivia whiz Ken Jennings has made a career as a keeper of facts; he holds the longest winning streak in history on the U.S. game show Jeopardy. But in 2011, he played a challenge match against supercomputer Watson -- and lost. With humor and humility, Jennings tells us how it felt to have a computer literally beat him at his own game, and also makes the case for good old-fashioned human knowledge. (Filmed at TEDxSeattleU.)

Ken Jennings holds the record for most consecutive wins on the classic American trivia game show, Jeopardy. He also makes a case for the rules of the game in the future.

http://bit.ly/17iGAda

At the time Jennings took on Watson, I issued my own challenge to Watson.  Listen to his talk and then compare my challenge.  We share some similar thoughts.  I’m still ready to take on Watson. Or offer Watson my challenge.

http://bit.ly/gzHlYF

Strasbourg Geese

I was reviewing an Op-Ed piece written in the New York Times by Susan Engel, a senior lecturer in psychology and the director of the teaching program at Williams College, almost two years ago.  I wrote about it in this blog at the time:  http://bit.ly/14q37VV  You can find the link to Engel's essay there too.  

Toward the end of her essay Engel mentions the importance of play.  She writes:  “During the school day, there should be extended time for play. Research has shown unequivocally that children learn best when they are interested in the material or activity they are learning. Play — from building contraptions to enacting stories to inventing games — can allow children to satisfy their curiosity about the things that interest them in their own way. It can also help them acquire higher-order thinking skills, like generating testable hypotheses, imagining situations from someone else’s perspective and thinking of alternate solutions.

“A classroom like this would provide lots of time for children to learn to collaborate with one another, a skill easily as important as math or reading. It takes time and guidance to learn how to get along, to listen to one another and to cooperate. These skills cannot be picked up casually at the corners of the day.”

Engel wrote about what children need to know, or need to learn in elementary school.  I’ve recently been reading John Medina’s book, Brain Rules.  He talks about his teaching at the college level.  His mother talked about seeing a movie showing how Strasbourg Geese were force-fed.  It reminded me that I had referred to those same poor geese when I commented on Engel’s essay.  “It points us away from stuffing our children like Strasbourg geese for test success, and toward an education that values listening, collaborating, following their curiosity, and creating things…”

Medina writes:  “My mother would often related this story to me when she talked about being a good or bad teacher.  ‘Most teachers overstuff their students,’ she would exclaim, ‘like those farmers in that awful movie!’  When I went to college I soon discovered what she meant.  And now that I am a professor who has worked closely with the business community, I can see the habit close up.  The most common communication mistakes?  Relating too much information, with not enough time devoted to connecting the dots.   Lots of force feeding, very little digestion.  This does nothing for the nourishment of the listeners, whose learning is often sacrificed in the name of expediency.”

I believe that the digestive process is play.  What’s good for the goose is good for the gander.  College students, adults, third graders, learners all along the spectrum of life learning need play: stories, the invention of games, the opportunity to collaborate, practice, sit back to dream and imagine, to make connections between new ideas and old information, to fashion something from the information they’ve been given, to build connections that go beyond short term recall.

 We need to worry as much about how we consume information, and for what purpose, during the course of our lives, as we do about how much we consume meat, soda, and corn.  

The Storyteller's Creed

While going through an old notebook looking for an exercise to do with a theater class tomorrow, I came across this.  I used to share it at the beginning of every class on theater and creativity I taught.  It seems especially apt now given the recent death of my beloved son William.

The Storyteller's Creed is taken from the beginning of Robert Fulghum's book All I Really Need To Know I Learned In Kindergarten.

I believe that imagination is stronger than knowldege,
That myth is more potent than history,
That dreams are more powerful than facts,
That hope always triumphs over experience,
That laughter is the ony cure for grief,
And I believe that love is stronger than death.  

Everyone Should Have a Futurist Handy

I had a chance to catch up with my friend Garry Golden the other day.  I first met him several years ago when he gave a series of presentations on The Future of Arts Education.  Garry is a futurist.  What, you may well ask, is a futurist?  A professional futurist?  First off, he’s a scientist.  No crystal ball, no runes, no divining, no incantations.  If you need to, go to the Wikipedia entry on Futurist.  Here’s how it begins:  “…scientists and social scientists whose specialty is to attempt to systematically predict the future, whether that of human society in particular or of life on earth in general.” You can also go here to learn about Garry, http://bit.ly/XystNn .

Of course, none of this tells you about Garry’s generosity with ideas and information, enthusiasm, curiosity, as well as his ability to listen well.  As we caught up, I told him about the acting teaching I’m doing as a university adjunct.  I described a workshop I imagined on creativity to help Baby Boomers such as myself rediscover and reawaken imaginative play.  Garry grabbed a nearby envelope and wrote down “Creative Aging”.  He told me that was the name of my workshop, reminded me of the demographics relating to Baby Boomers and told me to get to work.  He laid out a rapid-fire game plan, which boils down to,  “Start teaching the workshop, now”.  Or, as Seth Godin would say, “Ship now.”

So I set about doing some homework. The first thing I did was Google Creative Aging.  Lo and behold, there is a National Center for Creative Aging.  Even with the help of a generous futurist I’m already behind the times!  Take a look.  http://www.creativeaging.org/ .Then I found an interesting article on their site by Dr. Richard Senelick.  It turns out “dementia and aging do not affect all parts of the brain equally.”  Aging, dementia, and even Alzheimer’s can actually uncover previously hidden talents, especially in art and music. For the entire article, go here: http://bit.ly/YT5DvG .  I’m encouraged and confirmed in my conviction that my Boomer peers and I, with or without disabilities, have plenty of artistic potential to explore.  Especially with regard to the rich reservoir of stories we have to tell.  Exploring creative futures for ourselves by delving into our past.

Then I remembered I’d recently seen proof about what Dr. Senelick is talking about.  Not some abstract study, but the true story of a longtime friend, Jeanne Raichle.  Jeanne’s mother is a 94-year-old Alzheimer’s patient who has been painting for the last five years!  See and hear her story here, http://www.kuow.org/post/94-year-old-seattle-alzheimers-patient-discovers-new-artistic-talent#.UTfDQWB_cuE.facebook

I then thought of my own mother, a longtime artist and teacher.  She taught rug hooking when she was 90.  She held regular classes at home.  She would also travel to workshops and seminars to improve both her teaching and her craft.  Here are some examples of her beautiful work.  

Both ladies I mentioned are inspirations.  It’s exciting to ponder my future, both as teacher and learner.  There’s plenty to do.  The time to get on with it is now.  Having a futurist friend to guide and encourage me, to help me move from dream to action, is both luxury and gift.   

Addiction Is a Mental Illness

Thanks to my former student,  Sam Marcus,  for sending me this article, and consequently, for the introduction to The Fix.  What an important site for people contending with addiction!  Please, folks, read the article and browse the site.  There are some interesting articles if you click on the About Us link.  http://bit.ly/14qNfOg

I am indebted to so many of my former students for their concern, support, and investment – both literally and figuratively in our fight against addiction.  Sam is but the most recent example.   

As always, everyone, check out the Where There’s A Will Fund as a way to contribute to the fight.  http://bit.ly/Y0UXv3

Dedicate Your Work

Daniel Pink concludes his brilliant book A Whole New Mind with a suggestion from Naomi Epel.  Epel writes, “I once heard Danny Glover say that he dedicates every performance to someone – it might be Nelson Mandela or the old man who guards the stage door – but he is always working for someone other than himself.  This focus gives his acting purpose and makes his work rich.”

Pink adds, “You can do the same.  Dedicate your own work – a presentation, a sales call, a report – to someone you admire or who matters in your life.  You can infuse your work with purpose and meaning when you think of it as a gift.”

Recently I encouraged my acting students to think about whom they might dedicate their work to.  Scene work on a given day, their work for the semester, anything else which helps inspire gift giving in their work. 

Actors work hard to discover within themselves, from their own lives, experiences which will make a character they play believable, compelling, and above all, truthful.  That work can sometimes be painfully difficult, reaching back to agony most of us prefer to deny, forget, and leave behind by any means possible.  That painful sharing is an actor’s gift to the story they are helping to tell and to the audience they are telling the story to. 

Tonight, my wonderfully gifted daughter, Elizabeth Hope Williams, opens on stage in a new show in Chicago, CCX.  You can go here to learn more about the show and Elizabeth:  http://ccxplay.com/ .  Read Elizabeth’s biography.  You’ll see that she has chosen to dedicate her performance to her brother, William.  You need to know that William died barely three months ago, as a result of a heroin overdose.  You need to know that Elizabeth will be portraying a heroin addict. You need to know, or at least be reminded, that as a family we made a pledge at William’s memorial service:  “We promise to do everything in our power to educate and inform people about drug abuse and its prevention, to provide ever more enlightened treatment for addicts, to help make treatment options for addicts more readily available, and to remove the stain of shame surrounding this disease.”

Finally, you must know how proud I am of Elizabeth’s courage, generosity, and artistry.  She is, as I said above, wonderfully gifted.  For the next five weeks she dedicates a wonderful gift to our William.  Art from pain.  Thank you Elizabeth.