I have a couple of facebook friends that I have known for 50 years or there abouts. Bill contacted me and said he was coming to town to visit and meet Rhonda for dinner. Figured he’d look me up too.
Briefly the back story: The grade school we went to was about four blocks from where we each lived. http://goo.gl/EYzJWF Bill was my best friend back then he lived here http://goo.gl/Jzf8QS . Rhonda and her little sister lived on the corner of Bill’s street. http://goo.gl/iR7eFX . Our Jr High (now a middle school) was here http://goo.gl/MY5isp . I recall 1971 as the year I graduated from there. I lived a few blocks away http://goo.gl/sC11LA. The old house looks great on Google maps. When we lived there it was all white with a white rock roof. What was the deal with those rock rooves? The A&W that my folks owned/operated and what brought us to Bakersfield in 1964 was here. http://goo.gl/nKqrGM . I was saying Pastrami King lived there now in the picture it’s Frosty King. For years after my folks sold it it was Alex T’s & W. Alex Theodor was patriarch of the greek family that owned it. I later worked with his daughter at the chiropractic office. Our nemesis was the fast food joint two doors down called Sno-White. http://goo.gl/oUDh97 hasn’t been sno-white for a couple of decades. Nemesis or not I always liked the roof.
But I digress.
The next day, yesterday, I got a text to meet them at Black Angus. I was having one of my not so nice couple of days of feeling kind of awful where thoughts come slowly. Life is going on around me and my reactions are just basic. I kept wanting to feel anxious about trying to describe the sad nature of my existance of late I also kept wanting to sleep.
I got there to find the parking lot full and the place was packed. I was early so found a spot to plop down my seat cushion and sit watching the torsos of the other people waiting that didn’t find a seat in the lobby. It wasn't till then that It occurred to me that I didn't really know what they look like these days. The profile pictures on facebook are tiny. Okay so they turned out to be gray haired old timers that might be the grandparents of the kids I knew. Rhonda was there first, she was the one that made the reservation. We were shown to a table. I couple of minutes later Rhonda’s sister Sandy arrived. I had a vague memory of being the bratty little sister. Now she’s over 50 too. Bill came all the way from Palm Springs and arrived just after Sandy.
We ate a good dinner, Rhonda picked up the tab, and we talked for hours. I mostly listened. Partially because I wasn't feeling right but also because I spend so much time by myself it’s difficult to get out of my head and into the flow of a conversation. They would go on for a while and I would interject a small story. The three of them had some early twenties adventures in partying in and around San Pedro where Bill lived after his family moved away. I spent most of years 15 through 27 some version of drunk and/or stoned. I can usually pull up a story or 2 but was content to listen. I tried to follow the places and things they did. Picturing the young versions of them doing those things. The stories of how all three had corvettes was interesting. On the one hand it makes perfect sense. The natural progression from who I knew back then. Like a lot of people I have many car stories too. The Datsun, the Volvo, The Thing, the Ranchero, the Town car, the piece of shit Ford Ranger (3 steering pumps and 2 alternators, I got it new and only had it for 3 years) to name a few. It wasn't a sports car or a chick magnet but I figured the old Crown Vic Police Interceptor would fit in. Never felt the moment and didn't tell that story.
Kind of funny how every so often the conversation would come back around to the aches and pains and inconveniences of getting older.
Bill’s story from what I gather is that he has retired after 34 years with the postal service. Lives in a suburb or community near Palm Springs. He misses the people on his route. Some where rich and famous what with it being Palm Springs and all. That made sense too he is a story teller. Drinking adventures in Mexico and here and there. Possibly years past. More current were the stories of house parties and the thrift store cast-offs of the deceased Palm Springsians. Sounds like he has a nice home with a pool and a dog. No mention of wives or children. To be fair I didn't offer my details either. In the minds of some people this somehow translates to “He’s gay”. I guess it’s better than “He’s asexual”. Neither of which are true in my case. What with the stream of endorphins any aspect of womankind sends through whole being, lifting me off the ground, you’d think people’s gaydar would register hetero from miles away. Doesn't always happen that way. Once I figure out my own “it’s complicated” story perhaps we can trade stories. Just getting a girlfriend might be easier. Got close last month, I think.
As I recall Rhonda was a tomboy. There were several of us that did kid things together. She’s newly widowed after 25 or so years of marriage now. Sold the big family home that also contained the family business. Just moved into a very modest place near the center of town. Except for 4 bedrooms instead of 3 and not being on a slab her place is laid out similarly to mine. She’s fixing it up to suit her needs and looks like she’ll be quite cozy. I am drawing a blank about if she has children. If so they must live far away or something. Here sister has 2 kids just grown, lives in the north west of town and of the 4 of us, is the one with a job.
I’m listing off what I remember and some stream of consciousness like a kind of police procedural testimony. The whole brain too foggy to think thing happens less often lately but when it does I kind of panic. No telling how it limits me and interferes with my life having a happy next chapter. Thing is I have no way of knowing what I misremember or have already forgotten.
So anyway I wasn't a total zombie at dinner. I told some fun stories too. Finally living long enough to see these old friends as living history is terribly fascinating and engaging. The different paths taken and all that.
Saturday, January 17, 2015
Friday, October 3, 2014
Sad Sack Times
Social Security sent me notification of 2 doctor’s appointments. One for a Medical evaluation and one for a Psych evaluation. My sister was impressed that they came only 4 months after filing my application for disability. She has worked for Fresno Human Services for 20 something years and knows the process to be much slower. So did it come faster because they want it off their books or because the follow up questions I sent back in July painted a bleak picture. My research indicates that they decline 65% of first requests for disability. Most don’t get a medical review until your initial application is denied and you ask for an internal review. Makes me think I came off as needing help. In my favor is that the system is set up so people over 55 get a little easier process. The idea is that younger people even damaged ones have an easier time finding and adapting to new employment.
If you follow this blog at all you know I have battled a number of illnesses and side effects for the last 10-15 years and worked most of that time. Often feeling like the walking wounded many of those years. On my SSD application form I listed 10 or 12 medical issues. Most of which like the cataracts in my right eye are little more than an annoyance at this time. They do have a cumulative effect. Details in the post script.
So any one or two of these would be work-around-able maybe. There are intermittent problems too. I have been taking improv classes every week for a year. I credit this with keeping my mind working and being in the here and now. I had been losing touch with the outside world spending all my time driving and having an opposite schedule. The management of CIA improv has only put me in one show. I did well but have not been cast again. This has a little or a lot to do with me on my bad days going blank in scenes. It isn't often especially if I arrange my day around when improv happens. When it does happen most of the time it a light brain fog. Other times I just can’t wrap my mind around what is going on in front of me. This is also why I don’t need to be spending a lot of time behind the wheel.
My medical evaluation was brief. Rather than investigate my complaints and ask more than one question about each he was more interested in the knobby things on my elbows and ankles. Possibly related to gout. I don't have much hope that his report will help my case.
My psych evaluation was more to the point. The Dr invested too much of our 20 minute interview with double talk designed to ferret out what I really meant than was practical. It was supposed to be 30 minutes but was cut short because he got there late. Nice. 4 times in that 20 minutes he made it a point to point out that he just files a report and has no control over if my disability is approved. That can’t be good.
His report will be filed by Monday 10/22, he said, so within 2 or 3 weeks I should get a decision. Odds are against me but I haven't lost hope. The next step is to request an internal review of my case. Keep in mind I have not been interviewed by an actual SS employee yet. I said 8 words to one on the phone once. It’s all been online or through the mail.
Brass tacks; I ran out of money the end of July. My last ditch effort to get a hypnosis clientele going was a complete bust. That was done on credit cards.
Andy Simrin’s stepmother Sonia was very ill with cancer. Just 3 weeks ago he said she needs a caretaker 24/7 because of some kind of drain tube that gets clogged. He asked me if I wanted to do it. I probably could have done it. She was a friend of mine and she was my boss at the Sandwich Express when I was 18. I didn't want to watch her die.
My dear friend Laura has suggested virtual call center work you do from home. She even provided a couple of links. I have a PC rigged to use on my back it is old and not doing that well but works. I also have an iMac for standing use. I am concerned about the brain fog coming while trying to learn the product or while on the phone with a client. All they can do is fire me, right? Lying here feeling useless is not helpful.
I may have a lead on getting my hypnosis business going. Like with improv it is fine if I plan my day around appointments. Even then then the sessions are scripted in advance. "Office Space" is one of my favorite movies but like all the others don't show what hypnosis really is. If the suggestions stop, like in the movie, or get weird in any way you come safely out of trance. With Christmas coming I should be able to scrounge up gigs for the Comedy Hypnosis show. Before I gave in to the idea of being disabled I some shows in the brain fog that were funny but not my best. Now I know to plan.
There is always crowdfunding to get me through the next few months. I found one that doesn't even charge a fee. http://www.youcaring.com
Fat old guy asking for money to pay for utilities next to a kid with cancer. Hmm.
Anyway my Monthlies are around $1200 or so but I got food stamps so $1000. I got help with the September mortgage. Much Thanks! old friend. I missed the Sept car payment they are already calling wanting 2 payments right F-ing now. Just letting the car go I still need mortgage of $600 plus utilities etc.
If you can help me get through these next few months or just the next month. I would be most appreciative.
Brian Parks
Appendix - A rundown of the 4 things that won't leave me alone and that cause me not to be able to work.
The problem here is about working. Jobs that involve sitting, like the driving jobs I’ve had for the last 10 years are out. Standing job? Like what? Wal-Mart Greeter? I think they have one.
If you follow this blog at all you know I have battled a number of illnesses and side effects for the last 10-15 years and worked most of that time. Often feeling like the walking wounded many of those years. On my SSD application form I listed 10 or 12 medical issues. Most of which like the cataracts in my right eye are little more than an annoyance at this time. They do have a cumulative effect. Details in the post script.
So any one or two of these would be work-around-able maybe. There are intermittent problems too. I have been taking improv classes every week for a year. I credit this with keeping my mind working and being in the here and now. I had been losing touch with the outside world spending all my time driving and having an opposite schedule. The management of CIA improv has only put me in one show. I did well but have not been cast again. This has a little or a lot to do with me on my bad days going blank in scenes. It isn't often especially if I arrange my day around when improv happens. When it does happen most of the time it a light brain fog. Other times I just can’t wrap my mind around what is going on in front of me. This is also why I don’t need to be spending a lot of time behind the wheel.
My medical evaluation was brief. Rather than investigate my complaints and ask more than one question about each he was more interested in the knobby things on my elbows and ankles. Possibly related to gout. I don't have much hope that his report will help my case.
My psych evaluation was more to the point. The Dr invested too much of our 20 minute interview with double talk designed to ferret out what I really meant than was practical. It was supposed to be 30 minutes but was cut short because he got there late. Nice. 4 times in that 20 minutes he made it a point to point out that he just files a report and has no control over if my disability is approved. That can’t be good.
His report will be filed by Monday 10/22, he said, so within 2 or 3 weeks I should get a decision. Odds are against me but I haven't lost hope. The next step is to request an internal review of my case. Keep in mind I have not been interviewed by an actual SS employee yet. I said 8 words to one on the phone once. It’s all been online or through the mail.
Brass tacks; I ran out of money the end of July. My last ditch effort to get a hypnosis clientele going was a complete bust. That was done on credit cards.
Andy Simrin’s stepmother Sonia was very ill with cancer. Just 3 weeks ago he said she needs a caretaker 24/7 because of some kind of drain tube that gets clogged. He asked me if I wanted to do it. I probably could have done it. She was a friend of mine and she was my boss at the Sandwich Express when I was 18. I didn't want to watch her die.
My dear friend Laura has suggested virtual call center work you do from home. She even provided a couple of links. I have a PC rigged to use on my back it is old and not doing that well but works. I also have an iMac for standing use. I am concerned about the brain fog coming while trying to learn the product or while on the phone with a client. All they can do is fire me, right? Lying here feeling useless is not helpful.
I may have a lead on getting my hypnosis business going. Like with improv it is fine if I plan my day around appointments. Even then then the sessions are scripted in advance. "Office Space" is one of my favorite movies but like all the others don't show what hypnosis really is. If the suggestions stop, like in the movie, or get weird in any way you come safely out of trance. With Christmas coming I should be able to scrounge up gigs for the Comedy Hypnosis show. Before I gave in to the idea of being disabled I some shows in the brain fog that were funny but not my best. Now I know to plan.
There is always crowdfunding to get me through the next few months. I found one that doesn't even charge a fee. http://www.youcaring.com
Fat old guy asking for money to pay for utilities next to a kid with cancer. Hmm.
Anyway my Monthlies are around $1200 or so but I got food stamps so $1000. I got help with the September mortgage. Much Thanks! old friend. I missed the Sept car payment they are already calling wanting 2 payments right F-ing now. Just letting the car go I still need mortgage of $600 plus utilities etc.
If you can help me get through these next few months or just the next month. I would be most appreciative.
Brian Parks
Appendix - A rundown of the 4 things that won't leave me alone and that cause me not to be able to work.
- I described it as a dizzy feeling that starts everyday when I get up and last for 4-6 hours, sometimes all day lately. It is worse if I eat or even take my morning pills. I try to ignore it or work around it but end up lying down so the world stops spinning. Kind of like when you drink too much. I was informed that this is called vertigo. I have been telling Drs about it since 2003. Tests and shoulder shrugs is all I’ve gotten. This wasn’t as much of a problem when I went to work 10 hours after I got up. Not sure what work could accommodate this now.
- Sleep Apnea - This sneaky bastard has been dragging me down for 30 years and is at the root of many of these problems. I was not diagnosed until 2003. In 2012 I went from a simple air pressure machine CPAP to what is called a biPAP machine with higher pressures that puff air into you via sophisticated technology. The problem with both of these machines is that while asleep I pull them off. The problem with untreated sleep apnea is risk of stroke, heart attack, chronic oxygen and sleep deprivation and the one I live with every day; no REM sleep = scrambled brains.
- Childhood ADD (or similar) that I do not know if I was diagnosed with then, was diagnosed in 2007 as an adult. This explains alot. Not debilitating as such it is why I didn’t finish college and have a dozen unfinished projects around the house. Adult ADD/HD as they call it along with sleep apnea means short term focus comes and goes. Long term focus is just as spotty. If I can plan my days around when I will be with people I have 3-4 hours of fog free time. The next day is ify. Again not really good for having a job.
- This damned thing with my butt. My gluteal muscles seem to be wasting away. Slowly. This has gotten even less attention from my medical staff than the vertigo thing. All I know for sure is that when I sit, depending on how hard the surface is, within 5-10 minutes the little bit of tissue between my skin and those ischial bones gets squeezed and starts to hurt. An hour of sitting in my limit. They did send me to physical therapy but whatever it is is not in their handbook. Exercise was a little helpful strengthening the surrounding muscles. If I could get them to let me sit on the moist hot packs for 10 minutes was better.
The problem here is about working. Jobs that involve sitting, like the driving jobs I’ve had for the last 10 years are out. Standing job? Like what? Wal-Mart Greeter? I think they have one.
Monday, August 11, 2014
Full moon on the bluffs
I remember a few nights on the Wasco run when the full moon really brought out the oddness. Today’s midnight stroll along the bluffs brought me back to the idea of the full moon releasing the hounds of oddness. I take these walks ostensibly to keep my blood sugar down. A little weirdness is just a bonus.
For 10 years I left for work at midnight. Most days I’d turn left from River onto Panorama. I guess it was more than a year ago that the sheriff’s deputies would be there running off some cars doing a 5-O on others, all the doors open, red lights flashing, “suspects” sitting on the curb. For a while a tow truck would be lurking nearby. Panorama Park closes at 10 P.M. goddamnit, and that’s the law they decided to enforce. Until lately it seems. Either the constabulary was struck with some human logic that allowing people a place to peacefully assemble for free after dark means they are less likely to resort to mischief. Or the rich folk that live on Panorama that complained enough to force the daily rout were over shouted by the rich folk that didn’t like the disruption. Whatever the case I park my car across the street next to the cemetery just in case they start towing cars again. I know, my house is only half a mile down from the bluffs but, sigh, that walk is boring. I’m only good for half a mile anyway.
This summer the park is busy. Almost all latino, mostly couples sitting on benches having pleasantness. I been there to walk as late/early as 3 A.M. and there are people there. Next to being on the banks of the Kern River far below it is the coolest spot in town.
Tonight was odd, as I have indicated. 3 or 4 clusters of young men were present. Teenagers I assume. One guy had a loud audio device but developed some respect and I didn’t hear it after a short time. There is a paved path from end to end of the park. At one place the distance from the road to the edge is only 20 feet or less. Flashlights are rare at the park anyway tonight the moon was bright so really not needed at all. Just as I pass the narrow spot three young guys suddenly appear coming up the bluff onto the path. It wants to be a moment for glances and facial expressions but whole body language is all that is visible. The sounds they made were of exhilaration.
My attention is split between the latest discworld audiobook on the headphones, the sights and sounds of the park and people and an eye out for potholes. I approach the deepest point between gullies that used to have a parking lot where I took a girl or two back in the day. It is planted with beds of plants and trees now. The only flashlight of the night is darting all around a cluster of palms. Two big dogs are prancing around the flashlight man and the places his light is pointing. One has a green LED on his collar the other has orange. Pit bulls I assume from the general shape, and this is Bakersfield. Whatever he is searching for continues to one of the beds of clumpy plants. Then they are off in another direction. As the trail winds out near the edge of that biggest point I noticed that I am alone. The path leads back towards the road to accommodate another gully and back out again. I’m past by two more teen boys being boisterous. The kind a guy my age is suppose to fear but pfh.
I’m sweating a little. Time to turn back. At the point I thought was deserted moments before I see a person standing at the edge looking out. Another is near a big bush. I see fewer people on the rest of the way back.
Not that much oddness after all. Certainly more than usual though.
For 10 years I left for work at midnight. Most days I’d turn left from River onto Panorama. I guess it was more than a year ago that the sheriff’s deputies would be there running off some cars doing a 5-O on others, all the doors open, red lights flashing, “suspects” sitting on the curb. For a while a tow truck would be lurking nearby. Panorama Park closes at 10 P.M. goddamnit, and that’s the law they decided to enforce. Until lately it seems. Either the constabulary was struck with some human logic that allowing people a place to peacefully assemble for free after dark means they are less likely to resort to mischief. Or the rich folk that live on Panorama that complained enough to force the daily rout were over shouted by the rich folk that didn’t like the disruption. Whatever the case I park my car across the street next to the cemetery just in case they start towing cars again. I know, my house is only half a mile down from the bluffs but, sigh, that walk is boring. I’m only good for half a mile anyway.
This summer the park is busy. Almost all latino, mostly couples sitting on benches having pleasantness. I been there to walk as late/early as 3 A.M. and there are people there. Next to being on the banks of the Kern River far below it is the coolest spot in town.
Tonight was odd, as I have indicated. 3 or 4 clusters of young men were present. Teenagers I assume. One guy had a loud audio device but developed some respect and I didn’t hear it after a short time. There is a paved path from end to end of the park. At one place the distance from the road to the edge is only 20 feet or less. Flashlights are rare at the park anyway tonight the moon was bright so really not needed at all. Just as I pass the narrow spot three young guys suddenly appear coming up the bluff onto the path. It wants to be a moment for glances and facial expressions but whole body language is all that is visible. The sounds they made were of exhilaration.
My attention is split between the latest discworld audiobook on the headphones, the sights and sounds of the park and people and an eye out for potholes. I approach the deepest point between gullies that used to have a parking lot where I took a girl or two back in the day. It is planted with beds of plants and trees now. The only flashlight of the night is darting all around a cluster of palms. Two big dogs are prancing around the flashlight man and the places his light is pointing. One has a green LED on his collar the other has orange. Pit bulls I assume from the general shape, and this is Bakersfield. Whatever he is searching for continues to one of the beds of clumpy plants. Then they are off in another direction. As the trail winds out near the edge of that biggest point I noticed that I am alone. The path leads back towards the road to accommodate another gully and back out again. I’m past by two more teen boys being boisterous. The kind a guy my age is suppose to fear but pfh.
I’m sweating a little. Time to turn back. At the point I thought was deserted moments before I see a person standing at the edge looking out. Another is near a big bush. I see fewer people on the rest of the way back.
Not that much oddness after all. Certainly more than usual though.
Wednesday, July 9, 2014
27 times what might have been.
I was told in 2007 I had adult-ADD/ADHD. This picture would seem to indicate I had attention deficit with just a touch of hyperactivity at a much younger age. I have a vague memory of taking medicine.
In the 4th grade when it came time to recite times tables I could only do a few then stopped. It was too much. Like that whole thing where you have to ‘just know’ left and right, but multiplied. This is common for ADDers. I forced myself to memorize 6x7=42. From there I could add or subtract one 7 or three 6s or whatever as required to figure the other multiples. With 9s I started with 3x9=27. It’s not just an odd number, 27 is genuinely odd. Three 3s are 9. Three 9s are 27. 27 has no 3s in it but 3 from 30 is 27. 27 is otherwise useless. No one picks up 27 eggs at the store. No ball player scores 27 on purpose. There is just something not right with 27. It just seems three 9s should come up more often than it does. 24, 32, & 36 get all the attention in that neighborhood.
I have more of the times tables memorized now but it’s still not really my thing. We went to about 72 in the 4th grade. 8x9. Is that right? 9x9 is 81. 81 has a statuesque quality to it but like 27 is somehow not right. (3x3=9, 9x9=81, 8+1=9).
My 5th grade teacher had each equation of the times tables up on the walls. I had learned the joys of being a smart ass and getting laughs in the 4th grade. My 5th grade teacher also had 16 classroom rules up on the wall (our school had very high ceilings). Each rule and equation was on what they call ‘Sentence Strips’ about 6 inches high and 24 inches long, strps of paper printed to look like a giant version of 2 lines of that grade school lined paper. Each was cleanly written out with magic marker. Breaking a rule the first time meant writing it Bart Simpson style over and over on the chalkboard. Subsequent breakage resulted in writing it on paper 50 then 100 then 200 times as home work.
My crime was mostly breaking the rule about not speaking unless you were called on. I tried to keep up but my smart mouth and breaking other rules, . . it got to be too much for me to do every night. This got me the precursor to what was later called a “time out”. Instead of having fun and playing at recess I sat with the other bad kids by the fence. My debt of unwritten sentences grew to the point every recess for the rest of the year was accounted for. Then lunch periods were included. His eyes then fell on the company of my evil fencemates being too fun. I also suspect that the principal expressed reservations about the lack of exercise I was getting. The next escalation of punishment was making me walk around the track instead of sitting by the fence with the merely disobedient kids. Besides losing a crucial year of learning socialization skills I never did learn my times tables. Forever locked alongside conflicted memories, up on a wall somewhere. Like in old westerns when they ‘break’ a horse, I was broken. I had the same teacher in the 6th grade. Like a broken horse I followed him around like he was my alpha desparate to please him, I never broke a rule that year. Probably why I am drawn to rule makers and highly judgemental people but at the same time have always felt like a lone wolf never an alpha or a beta. If this hadn’t happened I might be in prison today or a big time stand-up comedian, most certainly I’d have a different life.
In the 4th grade when it came time to recite times tables I could only do a few then stopped. It was too much. Like that whole thing where you have to ‘just know’ left and right, but multiplied. This is common for ADDers. I forced myself to memorize 6x7=42. From there I could add or subtract one 7 or three 6s or whatever as required to figure the other multiples. With 9s I started with 3x9=27. It’s not just an odd number, 27 is genuinely odd. Three 3s are 9. Three 9s are 27. 27 has no 3s in it but 3 from 30 is 27. 27 is otherwise useless. No one picks up 27 eggs at the store. No ball player scores 27 on purpose. There is just something not right with 27. It just seems three 9s should come up more often than it does. 24, 32, & 36 get all the attention in that neighborhood.
I have more of the times tables memorized now but it’s still not really my thing. We went to about 72 in the 4th grade. 8x9. Is that right? 9x9 is 81. 81 has a statuesque quality to it but like 27 is somehow not right. (3x3=9, 9x9=81, 8+1=9).
My 5th grade teacher had each equation of the times tables up on the walls. I had learned the joys of being a smart ass and getting laughs in the 4th grade. My 5th grade teacher also had 16 classroom rules up on the wall (our school had very high ceilings). Each rule and equation was on what they call ‘Sentence Strips’ about 6 inches high and 24 inches long, strps of paper printed to look like a giant version of 2 lines of that grade school lined paper. Each was cleanly written out with magic marker. Breaking a rule the first time meant writing it Bart Simpson style over and over on the chalkboard. Subsequent breakage resulted in writing it on paper 50 then 100 then 200 times as home work.
My crime was mostly breaking the rule about not speaking unless you were called on. I tried to keep up but my smart mouth and breaking other rules, . . it got to be too much for me to do every night. This got me the precursor to what was later called a “time out”. Instead of having fun and playing at recess I sat with the other bad kids by the fence. My debt of unwritten sentences grew to the point every recess for the rest of the year was accounted for. Then lunch periods were included. His eyes then fell on the company of my evil fencemates being too fun. I also suspect that the principal expressed reservations about the lack of exercise I was getting. The next escalation of punishment was making me walk around the track instead of sitting by the fence with the merely disobedient kids. Besides losing a crucial year of learning socialization skills I never did learn my times tables. Forever locked alongside conflicted memories, up on a wall somewhere. Like in old westerns when they ‘break’ a horse, I was broken. I had the same teacher in the 6th grade. Like a broken horse I followed him around like he was my alpha desparate to please him, I never broke a rule that year. Probably why I am drawn to rule makers and highly judgemental people but at the same time have always felt like a lone wolf never an alpha or a beta. If this hadn’t happened I might be in prison today or a big time stand-up comedian, most certainly I’d have a different life.
Tuesday, June 10, 2014
My Theatre Gnome years
When I was in the 10th grade I started into a stretch of years when I was in a lot of plays. Drama class changed my life. I have never understood sports; football, basketball and such. Nothing against them really, I just never knew why anyone cared. None the less, it was the thing to do. So in the 9th grade I went out for the wrestling team. Only one other guy was over 210 pounds. For month and months, it seemed, I spent my time afterschool rolling around on gym mats with a mouth breathing kid named John Blea. Sad life for a fat kid with the name Blea. It was supposed to be pronounced Blay-yah, teammates of course him Bleah. The coach kept the wrestling room at 90 degrees all the time so Bleah’s personal hygiene didn’t really help my situation. This unpleasantness and not knowing the point to it all, I didn’t do that well.
The next year I went out for football. By the time they got to me all that was left was an old leather helmet. Pads and jersey were from that era as well. I was on the JV squad. I remember running laps and crashing into those dummy sled things. Then came the day that coach took us way out (ironically) past left field. He told us about the little stickers we were expected to earn to put on our helmets. Little round stickers about the size of a quarter with a drawing of a little hatchet. We earned a hatchet and the right to affix it to our helmet for each bone we broke on that week’s opposing team. Coach pointed out a couple of the guys who already had stickers.
It just so happened that the drama teacher, Ms. Archibald, was holding auditions for Edgar Lee Master's Spoon River Anthology. The next day I went to the auditions instead of football practice. I knew from drama class that being goofy was acceptable behaviour, hazing and giving each other demeaning nicknames was not usual and there would also be girls in attendance. Being in a play had the added advantage of not requiring that I inflict pain and/or physical damage to other youths or risk that happening to me. These factors and finally having a peer group to call my own altered the course of world history. From my perspective at least.
The first play I ever saw was in 1965 at the Bakersfield Community Theater (BCT), 2400 South Chester Avenue. Just down the street from the A&W my family owned at 2525 South Chester Avenue. It was a production of the hit Broadway play by Teichmann and Kaufman “The Solid Gold Cadillac”. It featured the local favorite version of Rosalind Russell and Ethel Merman, Hazel Foxx and a guy in the last scene in a solid gold outfit even gold make-up. A year or two later the same people did a big time production of “Gypsy” with fancy costumes and there may have been a live orchestra too. They did it on the stage at Bakersfield College. At that time the stage on So. Chester had been condemned 4 or 5 times and revived. The BC stage was new and state of the art. It even has an orchestra pit. I spent my own money to see it a second time. Live theatre at this point had me hooked. "Let Me Entertain You" or should have been "There's No Business Like Show Business" ringing in my head. (they did “Annie Get Your Gun” on the outdoor stage later)
Spoon river is not a standard play. It doesn't have scenes as such, it is a collection of epitaphs performed as vignettes. This really didn’t matter to us. My high school was new and didn’t have a theatre until my senior year. We just had an open space of about 3000 sq ft a few portable platforms, lights on poles and some chairs. Ms. Archibald was free to configure the space to suit her needs. We did Spoon River as a square theatre-in-th-round. In one show I was the grand Inquisitor prosecuting Joan of Arc in “The Lark”. That time the audience was in a “V” configuration making the stage a kind of triangular thrust stage. When I was Oscar Madison in “The Odd Couple” the stage was more of a regular thrust shape. Ms Susan Archibald signed her name SArch so overtime that is what we called her. Sarch must have really liked that style because we also did one called Under Milk Wood by Dylan Thomas. It was similar to Spoon River in that it was a collection of vignettes. I can’t remember how the stage was configured that time.
Besides the 2 or 3 times a year we did big plays that our families could come to see at night we also did shorter and one act plays. We performed these 4 or 5 times in a row all on the same day. Each period the English classes would be shuffled in to watch. Usually by the last time we did it we were really “In the Zone” (am I qualified to use sports metaphors?). The ones I remember were:
“The Long Christmas Dinner” by Thornton Wilder. - I came in as a youngster and as time passed I moved around the table until I was at the head carving the turkey. Most of my lines were “Another piece of dark meat dear?”
The one I remember the most was called The Apollo of Bellac by French dramatist Jean Giraudoux translated into English by Maurice Valency. The way we did it was a little different than the way Wikipedia describes it. I really was Apollo the god of beauty (typecasting) posing as a statue of Apollo. Agnes the young woman was played by Gatha Bowen. Gatha was a beautiful girl that had an older boyfriend so she didn’t mingle with us children. As you might expect an onstage kiss got the other high schoolers hooting laughing and making noise. This was also the first time I ever kissed a girl. What is, I assume, normally just a nerve wracking right of passage was etched into my being as fantastical on multiple levels. Then again for the 3rd period classes then 4th period etc.
I also had a way with stage lighting and sound. The first show I was involved with at BCT was a musical called “The Boyfriend” I ran the lights from a primitive light booth located off stage left about 5 feet up on the wall. As it is today the box office was in an adjacent building. During the show one night the matriarch of the place Hazel Foxx called me on the intercom. Someone was robbing the box office and would I please tell someone so the police could be called. I guess at that time the only phone was not in the box office and the only place the intercom went was the booth. The one song still haunts me to this day “We scream to have, we dream to have that certain thing called a boyfriend.” Zuh Dunt, ... Dunt Da Da.
Just in time for my senior year the theater building at Highland High opened. It was designed to be multi purpose so they called it the Lecture Center. It was kind of cool. It had these giant moving walls that cost as much as my parent’s house. This way it could be made into 3 lecture halls on a moment’s notice. It didn’t have the electrics or any of the hardware for proper stage lighting or sound. A man named Mr. Patterson was the theater mechanicals guy for the whole high school district. He spent most of his time that year putting in a light bar out over the audience and running cables. Since I was also a whiz kid at the technical side of doing theatre too, I spent many days helping him install the lighting system. I wasn’t paid but learned allot. We used the same pair of portable Davis Dimmers we had used the years before, place just off stage right. The next year I am told is when the modern fancy kind of remote dimmer switches were installed in the light booth at the back of the audience.
It was necessary for Sarch to do up the first show in the new space right and use more standard fare. We did Detective Story by Sidney Kingsley as the first show in the new theatre. I was Detective Lou Brody the William Bendix character in the movie. What? 2nd banana? I must have been slipping. The next show was really big as it was a musical and required cooperation with the choir and band. Brigadoon by Lerner and Loewe. New stage and the first musical performed at Highland High (unfortunately not the Highland High from Beavis and Butt-head this one is in Bakersfield California). I was duly honored that Ms Archibald assigned me to not only run the lights but draw the design, hang and focus the lights as well as work out the ques. I was especially proud of the special effect I came up with for the scenes where they are supposed to be deep in the beautiful forest of Brigadoon under dappled sunlight.
Next stop was Bakersfield College still big for a Jr college, in the 1970s it was the only place in the county for upper level Theatre Arts. This was back during the heyday before Prop 13 made budget cuts to Arts programs. Also before the Cal State Bakersfield had it’s own Theatre. Even before it was a university. BC had quite a staff at the time Dr. Bob (Doc) Chapman was department chair. Can’t-remember-his-name was the other theater teacher he may have had a PHD also. I never took a class from him but he wrote his own version of Dracula (eye roll) that I worked as a tech on. Debbie was the full time costume mistress. All the guys were in love with Mary Ann she was very attractive and had a soft sexy voice. She was, I want to say, the artistic director. Not sure if that is the right title. She designed the sets and lights and costumes. Hank Webb was the tech director taking care of the sets and props and that kind of thing. David Hicks was in charge of the theatre as a whole in terms of the physical theatre plant. He also did most of the building of sets. Hank Webb was promoted to Drama instructor and was replaced by Mike Miller. Mike had lots of practical experience as a roadie for Eddie Money.
I had major parts in The Mousetrap by Agatha Christie and the Commedia dell'arte farce The Three Cuckolds. Since I was no longer teacher’s pet like in high school, there was much more competition for parts and conventional wisdom (what is the opposite of wisdom?) says that fat = unattractive, the parts I was offered kept getting smaller and less interesting. I was good at tech stuff but at BC at that time running the lights was as interesting as that was getting to be. I was involved with a number of great productions there. I have a trove of stories and friendships that have lasted through the years. The theatre itself was the best equipped and most complete I have ever worked in. By this time however I had enough experience and knowledge to know why I did not like the traditional proscenium stage. As easy as it is for staging and getting the technical stuff done it lacks the human connection that sets live theatre apart from film and TV. For me as a theatre goer I still see this dynamic in play at every show I see.
After five years out of my young life as a theatre gnome it was time to live in the real world for a time. I was also spinning my wheels at school and had no goals there. I quit school at the end of the fall 76 term. I did make it back to theatre a couple of years later. This seems like a good place to stop part 1. Each decade changed my relationship to theatre and the people in it. Probably not right away, but when the spirit moves me, look for continuations of my time in theatre.
The next year I went out for football. By the time they got to me all that was left was an old leather helmet. Pads and jersey were from that era as well. I was on the JV squad. I remember running laps and crashing into those dummy sled things. Then came the day that coach took us way out (ironically) past left field. He told us about the little stickers we were expected to earn to put on our helmets. Little round stickers about the size of a quarter with a drawing of a little hatchet. We earned a hatchet and the right to affix it to our helmet for each bone we broke on that week’s opposing team. Coach pointed out a couple of the guys who already had stickers.
It just so happened that the drama teacher, Ms. Archibald, was holding auditions for Edgar Lee Master's Spoon River Anthology. The next day I went to the auditions instead of football practice. I knew from drama class that being goofy was acceptable behaviour, hazing and giving each other demeaning nicknames was not usual and there would also be girls in attendance. Being in a play had the added advantage of not requiring that I inflict pain and/or physical damage to other youths or risk that happening to me. These factors and finally having a peer group to call my own altered the course of world history. From my perspective at least.
The first play I ever saw was in 1965 at the Bakersfield Community Theater (BCT), 2400 South Chester Avenue. Just down the street from the A&W my family owned at 2525 South Chester Avenue. It was a production of the hit Broadway play by Teichmann and Kaufman “The Solid Gold Cadillac”. It featured the local favorite version of Rosalind Russell and Ethel Merman, Hazel Foxx and a guy in the last scene in a solid gold outfit even gold make-up. A year or two later the same people did a big time production of “Gypsy” with fancy costumes and there may have been a live orchestra too. They did it on the stage at Bakersfield College. At that time the stage on So. Chester had been condemned 4 or 5 times and revived. The BC stage was new and state of the art. It even has an orchestra pit. I spent my own money to see it a second time. Live theatre at this point had me hooked. "Let Me Entertain You" or should have been "There's No Business Like Show Business" ringing in my head. (they did “Annie Get Your Gun” on the outdoor stage later)
Spoon river is not a standard play. It doesn't have scenes as such, it is a collection of epitaphs performed as vignettes. This really didn’t matter to us. My high school was new and didn’t have a theatre until my senior year. We just had an open space of about 3000 sq ft a few portable platforms, lights on poles and some chairs. Ms. Archibald was free to configure the space to suit her needs. We did Spoon River as a square theatre-in-th-round. In one show I was the grand Inquisitor prosecuting Joan of Arc in “The Lark”. That time the audience was in a “V” configuration making the stage a kind of triangular thrust stage. When I was Oscar Madison in “The Odd Couple” the stage was more of a regular thrust shape. Ms Susan Archibald signed her name SArch so overtime that is what we called her. Sarch must have really liked that style because we also did one called Under Milk Wood by Dylan Thomas. It was similar to Spoon River in that it was a collection of vignettes. I can’t remember how the stage was configured that time.
Besides the 2 or 3 times a year we did big plays that our families could come to see at night we also did shorter and one act plays. We performed these 4 or 5 times in a row all on the same day. Each period the English classes would be shuffled in to watch. Usually by the last time we did it we were really “In the Zone” (am I qualified to use sports metaphors?). The ones I remember were:
“The Long Christmas Dinner” by Thornton Wilder. - I came in as a youngster and as time passed I moved around the table until I was at the head carving the turkey. Most of my lines were “Another piece of dark meat dear?”
The one I remember the most was called The Apollo of Bellac by French dramatist Jean Giraudoux translated into English by Maurice Valency. The way we did it was a little different than the way Wikipedia describes it. I really was Apollo the god of beauty (typecasting) posing as a statue of Apollo. Agnes the young woman was played by Gatha Bowen. Gatha was a beautiful girl that had an older boyfriend so she didn’t mingle with us children. As you might expect an onstage kiss got the other high schoolers hooting laughing and making noise. This was also the first time I ever kissed a girl. What is, I assume, normally just a nerve wracking right of passage was etched into my being as fantastical on multiple levels. Then again for the 3rd period classes then 4th period etc.
I also had a way with stage lighting and sound. The first show I was involved with at BCT was a musical called “The Boyfriend” I ran the lights from a primitive light booth located off stage left about 5 feet up on the wall. As it is today the box office was in an adjacent building. During the show one night the matriarch of the place Hazel Foxx called me on the intercom. Someone was robbing the box office and would I please tell someone so the police could be called. I guess at that time the only phone was not in the box office and the only place the intercom went was the booth. The one song still haunts me to this day “We scream to have, we dream to have that certain thing called a boyfriend.” Zuh Dunt, ... Dunt Da Da.
Just in time for my senior year the theater building at Highland High opened. It was designed to be multi purpose so they called it the Lecture Center. It was kind of cool. It had these giant moving walls that cost as much as my parent’s house. This way it could be made into 3 lecture halls on a moment’s notice. It didn’t have the electrics or any of the hardware for proper stage lighting or sound. A man named Mr. Patterson was the theater mechanicals guy for the whole high school district. He spent most of his time that year putting in a light bar out over the audience and running cables. Since I was also a whiz kid at the technical side of doing theatre too, I spent many days helping him install the lighting system. I wasn’t paid but learned allot. We used the same pair of portable Davis Dimmers we had used the years before, place just off stage right. The next year I am told is when the modern fancy kind of remote dimmer switches were installed in the light booth at the back of the audience.
It was necessary for Sarch to do up the first show in the new space right and use more standard fare. We did Detective Story by Sidney Kingsley as the first show in the new theatre. I was Detective Lou Brody the William Bendix character in the movie. What? 2nd banana? I must have been slipping. The next show was really big as it was a musical and required cooperation with the choir and band. Brigadoon by Lerner and Loewe. New stage and the first musical performed at Highland High (unfortunately not the Highland High from Beavis and Butt-head this one is in Bakersfield California). I was duly honored that Ms Archibald assigned me to not only run the lights but draw the design, hang and focus the lights as well as work out the ques. I was especially proud of the special effect I came up with for the scenes where they are supposed to be deep in the beautiful forest of Brigadoon under dappled sunlight.
Next stop was Bakersfield College still big for a Jr college, in the 1970s it was the only place in the county for upper level Theatre Arts. This was back during the heyday before Prop 13 made budget cuts to Arts programs. Also before the Cal State Bakersfield had it’s own Theatre. Even before it was a university. BC had quite a staff at the time Dr. Bob (Doc) Chapman was department chair. Can’t-remember-his-name was the other theater teacher he may have had a PHD also. I never took a class from him but he wrote his own version of Dracula (eye roll) that I worked as a tech on. Debbie was the full time costume mistress. All the guys were in love with Mary Ann she was very attractive and had a soft sexy voice. She was, I want to say, the artistic director. Not sure if that is the right title. She designed the sets and lights and costumes. Hank Webb was the tech director taking care of the sets and props and that kind of thing. David Hicks was in charge of the theatre as a whole in terms of the physical theatre plant. He also did most of the building of sets. Hank Webb was promoted to Drama instructor and was replaced by Mike Miller. Mike had lots of practical experience as a roadie for Eddie Money.
I had major parts in The Mousetrap by Agatha Christie and the Commedia dell'arte farce The Three Cuckolds. Since I was no longer teacher’s pet like in high school, there was much more competition for parts and conventional wisdom (what is the opposite of wisdom?) says that fat = unattractive, the parts I was offered kept getting smaller and less interesting. I was good at tech stuff but at BC at that time running the lights was as interesting as that was getting to be. I was involved with a number of great productions there. I have a trove of stories and friendships that have lasted through the years. The theatre itself was the best equipped and most complete I have ever worked in. By this time however I had enough experience and knowledge to know why I did not like the traditional proscenium stage. As easy as it is for staging and getting the technical stuff done it lacks the human connection that sets live theatre apart from film and TV. For me as a theatre goer I still see this dynamic in play at every show I see.
After five years out of my young life as a theatre gnome it was time to live in the real world for a time. I was also spinning my wheels at school and had no goals there. I quit school at the end of the fall 76 term. I did make it back to theatre a couple of years later. This seems like a good place to stop part 1. Each decade changed my relationship to theatre and the people in it. Probably not right away, but when the spirit moves me, look for continuations of my time in theatre.
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