Birthdays in Oz

Friday, of course, was Janneke's birthday. And we both forgot about it Friday morning. We'll celebrate wildly sometime soon, but we've both been pretty busy lately. So the festivities were limited.

...to a night of pizza at Moulton's, followed by four great seats for Drury High School's production of "The Wizard of Oz"! Q had gone to the audition to be a munchkin in the production, but had nearly died of stage fright, and so didn't become one - although he did say that when they put it on, he wanted to see it. So Janneke bought the tickets that afternoon and at 7:00, the curtain rose on the dusty plains of Kansas.

I have to say, it was a bittersweet experience for me. I mean, the actors were great, the crowd was big and appreciative - it was a very nice production. But I had just seen the last-period "teaser" that the students at Lenox had put on for that same evening's production of "A Midsummer Night's Dream", and the comparison between the two places is enough to bring out the socialist in most people. Lenox has the Duffin Theater, paid for, I assume, by the Duffin family of Lenox, and it's such a professional-grade stage that the Barrington Stage Company used it for its professional productions this past summer while their own stage was being refurbished. The lights, the sets, the costumes, the sound - They're top-notch. I mean, they bring in a pro from Shakespeare & Company in Lenox. These kids (at Lenox) are coached as well as a high school actor can possibly be coached. They spare no expense, and the result is mind-blowing.

Drury, which is in North Adams, Berkshire County's second-largest, and certainly toughest, town, had an absolutely terrible lighting set-up. The auditorium, while much nicer than the one at the high school I went to (you see, there was none), was odd and not especially versatile...The costumes and sets were almost all rented from some musical-in-a-box company, and looked about as dumpy and bla as you would expect from such a thing. My eyes narrowed and my mouth pursed and my fists went tight. It was like when Che sees all the poor people go black and white and stare at him and the angry guitar music comes in in "The Motorcycle Diaries". I found myself mad as a wet hen that two public schools less than thirty miles apart could be so differently supported.

And yet the Drury kids absolutely made magic happen. The kids laughed it up throughout - Tie burst into tears when it ended. And when we all filed out, the cast stood along the entryway, beaming, high-fiving, whooping and cheering, bouncing up and down, shouting thanks back over all the shoulted congratulations of family and friends, pressing close. The Lion and the Scarecrow were just fantastic, and one of the least convincing, but dead-on, never-miss-a-line, never-miss-a-spot, hyper-enthusiastic actors, who had never acted in anything before last night, a big, rangy jock-type, was just about shrieking his joy to the world. He's probably still smiling. T insisted on giving Dorothy a hug, which absolutely made that young actress' night, and all four of us drove home with enormous grins on our faces. Hooray for Drury High! You made Janneke's birthday unforgettable.

Today, we woke up to whole wheat pancakes and some house cleaning before dividing and conquering. Janneke and T to the mall, and Q and I to the Amherst-Williams game. We spent probably two thirds of it on the field hockey field, which is artificial turf on a rubberized surface, throwing the football to each other in pass patterns. A fifth or sixth grade kid whom Q knows from school came over to marvel at his arm at one point. "You got GOOD!", he hollered. And, boy, I have to say, he's more accurate much of the time than I am. He really does have a hell of an arm.

And the game, though not close, was enjoyable. "ESPN College Gameday" broadcast their show from here, and Q and I watched them from behind for a while. It was weird to hear everybody shriek and shout whenever the jumbotron they'd erected showed that they were currently on TV, and then suddenly, completely quiet down as soon as the monitor went to commercial. It's like there was a conductor up there, calling for absolute silence. Huge crowd, lots of cigars, plenty of alcohol but not a single act of rowdiness that I saw. And the traditional homecoming march of the victorious team up the street to the St Pierre's barber shop, where Q gets his hair cut, was also fun to see. Victorious, singing football players holding their helmets high and marching in to have their heads shaved in ridiculous ways. Must be fun.

Back home to rake leaves. Q took advantage of the leaf-free grass to take out the cones and practice dribbling through them at a dead run, and I was jaw-droppingly amazed at how much better at that he's gotten. He also tried juggling for a good 20 minutes while I raked. This kid is such a sport-o.

He talked me into taking a break to fire shots at him as he played goalie until it was too dark to see, and then Mami and T came home from the mall, and we all sat down to supper. Toward the end of which, Tie put down her spoon and said, loudly and very clearly, "Rat shit!"

Janneke and I turned toward her and stared, not quite comprehending. Then she said, "Mami, hay un robot en 'Robots' que se llama Ratchet." Which I spell here as it's spelled in regular English, although she was still very clearly saying "Rat-shit". It was a relief, but I have to say, also somewhat disappointing. I kind of liked that little shot of potty-mouth T we thought we had been witness to. I thought, for that moment, "Well, my daughter cusses like a sailor. So be it, I guess."

(By the way, I can tell you from experience that while sailors do cuss quite well and fiercely, they save their truly skin-peelinig outbursts for after they've been discharged from the navy and have moved back to Wisconsin to marry and raise a family and have come home to the farm from their jobs as power lineman to fix a fence or a tractor and strike their hand accidentally against something sharp or hard. Generally at those moments, there's from one to four of their children standing about. One or more of them are usually named Joe.)