No "Doubt" at The Hickory Community Theatre

Wow. The world may be filled with doubt but there is absolutely NO doubt about the Hickory Community Theatre. And there can be no doubt about the actor and actresses who played the roles of the characters in the screen play or about the director, Pamela Livingstone, or about the writer, John Patrick Shanley, or about the 100 or so residents of Hickory who showed up to watch this magnificent performance in downtown Hickory at the "Fireman's Kitchen".

After the performance was completed, about forty or fifty of us spectators remained in the "Kitchen" (really an intimate cabaret) as the actor and actresses changed into civvies and came back out on the stage, set down and engaged in a discussion about the play, the characters, the actors, the audience and the feelings involved. This went on for about thirty more minutes. Two couples in the audience, when we all were asked, said they had seen the movie. Both agreed the movie was "great" but this play, one said was "stunning". The other couple said they loved the movie but what they saw tonight was "devastating". (If you haven't seen the movie or the play, those are both compliments.) I made the photo from our seat at a small table for four before the play began, and we watched it unfold from this distance. The best seat in the place? No doubt.

Hickory Airport and Musuem

Amazingly nice airport for a general aviation field. Runways of 4,400 (01/19) and 6,400 feet (06/24) should be more than ample for current needs and permit a substantial growth into the immediate future.

The interior of the terminal is very well appointed and appears more than adequate. It has a restaurant, "Froggy Pete's - Where Life is Always Delicious" that serves from 0800 to 1600 Monday through Saturday (824-324-7800).
A small "waiting room" is well laid out. No baggage claim area but then there are no commercial flights here either.

The airport has a museum that looks interesting although small. There is a lot of emphasis about military flights during World War II. It is open Saturdays from 1000 to 1700 and Sundays from 1300 to 1700. Otherwise by appointment. 828-323-1963.
There is a static display of ancient military jet aircraft right outside the museum on the edge of the flight line. You can wander around and look at the old airplanes and there are a lot of interesting views, including one that startled me. I glanced to my right and suddenly
for a second I was back on a flight line in Vietnam! A chilly wind easily blew that feeling away. But it was a chilling feeling too. Funny how young I felt for a moment. . . .

Doctors

Doctors? Oh yes. Well, what can I say? We've all seemed to have had run-ins with them lately, and it is like meeting another species of being. Most of them are pretty up to date technologically, but professionally they seem not yet to have ventured out of the gothic house in which they learned their expensive tricks.

White smocks and stetheys and rubber gloves they may brandish boldly, but most of them might be more at home in a grass skirt and a nose-bone while waving feathers in the air, shaking cans full of rattling things and blowing smoke at their patient’s ailments.

Of course I speak from a quarter century of teaching college students principles of management, a science so arcane that practitioners in fields like medicine, religion or education have not yet even heard of it, and would either charge it a fee, burn it at a stake, or send it to the corner of their room if they even knew about it.

But it’s sadly true that, at least in America under our pharmaceutically insured get-rich-quick schemes for the great medical corporations, the word “doctor” refers not to a professional teacher who examines people and helps them achieve and enjoy a healthy life, but to a very high priced hit-man who sees you as a disease that needs to be eradicated or destroyed.

Once “treated” the patient is then left to die on his own - or perhaps live on for a while - who knows, because the “doctor” will never follow up to see what happened. “Control”, the fifth function of management you know, is only used by doctors in relation to their retirement accounts or if one of their patients fails to pay.

More than this I dare not say because one of my children IS a doctor, and one of my grandchildren may well be one too within the next few years. But then, what do they know?

Alaskan Skies

Cold. Clear. Carlessly blue. Memories of clouds are brought along. Low flying cirrus look strange down here. Alaskan skies have come south for the winter.

They let their winds ruffle in the water - how strange that must feel. And they whistle through branches - oh, what a blast! Oooohooo! Wheeeee! They probably think that they’ll soon go back. But they’ll be just like me. They won’t go back.

The South Rose Again . . .

. . . briefly this afternoon from about 2:30 to 3:00 p.m. on the Hickory Commons, in front of the Patrick Beaver Library. A valiant force of about six infantry men, five artillery men and three or four assorted officers took and held the parade field for well over an hour.
The "close-order drill" was amazing, and you could have thought they had practiced mis-direction for hours.
But orders were shouted - muskets rang out - and the artillery BOOMed.

And not a single yankee DARED to show up!

Real Poets Never Quit

For Evening Light Writer:

When the nights are bleak and cold and long
and the winter winds blow wicked,
the only light that can be found
is in the hearts of poets

Robert Burns in Hiddenite

Hiddenite is never easy to find, it never has been, never will be. Certainly not on this special occasion to honor Robert Burns, on a night which was black as eternity - with fog and mist creeping across the moors, seemingly fresh from some nearby dark sea, cloaking the whole world in dark, wet misery.

There was a little bit of light inside the Hiddenite Center. It was not bright, but there was a small stage near one end of the large open room which glared in its own small brilliance and crawled with electric wiring.

We went to this ceremony honoring the memory of Robert Burns to see the performance of the ASU group, and watch them dance their Scottish jigs. They’ve been in Scotland for the last several summers so they will know of what they do. But they didn’t show for the performance tonight, perhaps they couldn't find it?  So it was all local grown.

First was the haggis. Well what can I say? The four of us who came up together from Hickory were vegetarians to begin with. Some of us will eat meat, from time to time, but this was offal. Animal byproducts? We don’t even feed our dogs stuff like that. (although they would LOVE haggis!) So - what’s the point? Good veggie fare would change the entire atmosphere of the whole party and everyone would be happy - instead of “double-dog-dare-you” tense, and grinningly grim. The Master of the House may have carved the haggis with a ceremonial sword but let's face it, smiles look funny when the lips are spread less far than the nostrils. So the haggis was a flop. But it was a spectacular, measured, triumphal, successful, incredible flop. That only insures its repeat performance next year. Come on guys - this is dumb. Think! Why did so many people leave Scotland in the first place?

What did the haggis taste like? My take on it seemed a very poorly prepared, watered-down turkey dressing with a faint odor of foul mold

And that was it. There was some stirring Scottish music played from a hammered dulcimer and a screeching bagpipe - which was a little like an audible haggis. Cabbage, potatoes, and a roast beef/biscuit thing followed the haggis, then dessert which they called “Tipsy Laird”, and which was SO good that it almost changed the entire atmosphere of the evening.

So it was a lonely place. Strange memories stirred in the darkness, and haunting melodies called out across the ages. It was a little bit like a peek inside an old abandoned grave. A special night in Hiddenite? Maybe.

Escanaba In Da Moonlight

Evidently this is a three act play, but for some reason the Hickory Community Theatre only showed the first two.

They had gone to a lot of trouble to present several of the elements of a story and try to get a plot line started, and the audience was clearly puzzled as to how they would all fit together. But then the show just quit.

Maybe it was too cold. Maybe the actors stopped because there weren't many people watching. They should have turned the house lights on and let the audience suggest how to fit all the loose ends together - or even just to try to explain that there really were loose ends somewhere. Or maybe even to just start over again.

Apparently it supposed to be a story about accent and superstitions. But the accents were terrible. One of the "Soady" boys had a pidgin Minnesota accent - which is weird if you know the difference between that and a UP accent, and the rest of the actors just had a hard time being understood. Kind of like watching an old movie with Tony Curtis trying to do a south Georgia accent. So the way it ended it was just a story about farts. The really sad thing was that the farts were supposed to be funny. Well . . . farts are not really that funny, not if you make it beyond the third grade. Clearly, a number of the people in the audience had gone farther than that even if the producers hadn't.

© John Womack, 2008. All rights reserved.

King of Hearts

The movie of the month at the Hickory Footcandle Film Society was "The King of Hearts". Crazy. Like a weekend in Asheville. Maybe a little bit better dressed.

Amazing that the inmates of the asylum would all become such pure representatives of archetypes. And while they were "playing" their roles, they all seemed so penetratingly intelligent and happy. But after the soldiers all killed each other and "normalcy" returned to the village they willingly returned to the safety and security of their asylum.

So we sat around and analyzed the movie, those 40 or so of us who comprised the audience, made our comments adding to the comedy we had just seen, and we too seemed penetratingly intelligent. Then we willingly left the presense of our camraderie and headed to Drips Coffeehouse to fulfill the course of the evening.

Still and all, the the story was told again that war just doesn't work, and that war is SO crazy that it distorts the very foundation of civilization and makes insane preferable to its senselessness.
the message came across lould and clear that the leaders play the war like a funny game they don't begin to understand while their soldiers carry out their orders like senseless robots.

Good movie.

St. Alban's Episcopal Church in Hickory, NC

Went to St. Alban’s today. Unannounced. They clearly were not expecting us. They made a lot over the coming of Jesus, and we obviously fell WAY short of that! Of course we knew (and very well, too) the Christ story, but if we had not known, we might have thought that the Jesus person was some great potentate coming on a special state visit. We had obviously chosen the wrong Sunday to come here when they were so busy that there was no room for us to fit in.

We found it to be a CFL church. Probably about 20 watts worth. A little light but not much warmth. They seemed very friendly among themselves and when we “passed the peace” everybody was very friendly toward us too.

After the service, on the way out we met the official “Greeter” who had been appointed to greet everyone on this Sunday, and he shook our hands and looked warm quickly but that was that. He had to shake EVERYBODY’S hand (almost all of whom he appeared to know very well) and he was a very, very busy man, way too busy to talk to strangers.

At the reception hall we looked at the bulletins and announcements and at all the people busy talking with each other. One guy came up to me and introduced himself. “Hi, I’m Earl.” He shook my hand and told us that he was a “deacon” at the church. “What brings you here?” We were thrilled. My wife told him we had just moved to Hickory and were looking at different churches. “What is your background?” Earl asked, then added, “I mean as far as churches go?” I told him I had been very active in the Episcopal Church some time ago, for more than 25 years I had been Lay Reader, Chalice Bearer, Usher, etc. Earl stared at me. Then I told him that I had basically left the church about 25 years ago. Without uttering another word Earl turned and walked away.

My wife and I walked slowly back, all alone through the crowd of happy, obviously very friendly people who were busy talking with each other and when we found the door we left.

© John Womack, 2008. All rights reserved.

CVCC Christmas Colossus 2008

It drew a lot of people. Too bad. On the way out I overheard someone say “Two or three times I thought they were going to make it work.” That fit perfectly.

Several pieces were performed beautifully. “Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing” was enchanting and enriching. “Sleigh Ride” seemed fine but it was hard to follow from back in the audience. “For Unto Us a Child is Born” - well - it was spectacular and caused a lot of toes to tap and heads to bob. But then, that's Handel for you.

The high school chorus was a delight to hear. They did not have to depend on the amplification system, and they brought a freshness and liveleness to the performance. If they could have done the entire show I would go to see it again.

The ballerinas had nice looking hands. You could sometimes see that when they held them straight up. Perhaps the people in the first row or two could actually see their dance but for the rest of us (most of us) it was just a kind of a long song. Same with the Celtic dancers. We glimpsed their outfits occasionally (from the shoulders up) but it was mainly just a lot of loud stomping.

The rest of the show was disappointing. First, the acoustics in the arena are not good. This place was apparently not designed for either music or speaking. Second, the amplification system was awful - sometimes it just sounded like a bad night in the jungle. Third, the photographs? were awesomely terrible. The images were chaotically distracting. They were a poorly organized presentation of bad exposures. There was no attempt to coordinate the change of photos with the tempo of the music so it "threw" the music out of step, there was no progression of images leading from abstract, say, toward specific (or perhaps the other way around), or from black and white evolving into color or vice-versa, but a random assortment of faded sepia images shown out of cadence with the music and they finally reached a crescendo of . . . repeating the same previously shown poor images!

Santaland Diaries

The Firemen's Kitchen in Hickory was the scene of the recounting of an astonishing series of escapades involving Santaland "Elves" at Macy's in NYC.

Apparently David Sedaris of NPR fame had at one time in his early career as a writer, gone to work in this magical place called Santaland of Macy's as an "elf" and brought New York children (and others!) to meet Santa and there were a lot of tales to tell about something as seemingly prosaic as this.

The actor for the night's monologue performance was David Townsend and he did a creditable job. It was our first trip to the Firemen's Kitchen and we found it enjoyable and certainly "cozy" as we had heard it described before. The people seemed to go WAY out of their way to be extra friendly and provided refreshments to help enjoy the evening even more. The only thing missing was freshly popped corn.

© John Womack, 2008. All rights reserved.

Footcandle Film Society

Saw the December presentation “Miracle at St. Anna” tonight.

It was a L O N G movie with lots of really good pieces to it. Unfortunately, those pieces largely went unfulfilled and like the eventual ending itself, most of the different story lines just petered out and vanished in wasted anticlimax.

The strong point of the movie was violence. It was a movie that honored killing. Its attempts to show irony were largely confusing such as the montage in which several groups of Americans, Germans, Italians and probably others were engaged in various venues saying an apparently simultaneous prayer to the same Christian “god”. I was prepared for some great climax to come forth. But . . .?

There were some really good lines. But they were lost in the gruesome gulp of the NEXT SCENE. I only remember one now - two young boys, one 8 the other perhaps 10, standing together after witnessing massive killing and the older one says with the wisdom of an ancient master: “This was our time to be kids.” Bang - NEXT SCENE - on with the movie. The show MUST go on! (What show? We just ran over it!)

Silence really CAN be golden.

There were a lot of really good stories in this movie. But they weren't told. Spike Lee could have produced 10 or 15 GREAT movies of about an hour in length and solidified his place as a great story teller forever. But not if he puts them all in the same two and a half hour long fruitcake.

I loved the Chocolate Giant. But he didn’t belong here. Could he have been another Old Man and the Sea? Maybe. Maybe not - we’ll never know. The Louisiana slurpy shop was fine until it got carried away with drawn guns and all kinds of action but nothing significant resulting. Let’s face it, an explosion that doesn’t go off is - a dud.

The best part of the entire presentation was the discussion afterward. It was slow taking off but got into some interesting points as people began pointing out parts they liked and/or didn’t care for.

HIckory Choral Society - Christmas Concert

Corinth Reformed Church presented Christmas music from the Western Piedmont Symphony and the Hickory Choral Society over the first weekend in December. This is the 31st year the Choral Society has performed a Christmas Concert, and it is a good opportunity for all of us to see inside the church. The title of the performance is "Music Wears a Tapestry".


It was an amazingly excellent performance from many aspects. The architecture, acoustics, decorations, crowd participation and music were magnificent. Not only was the music very good, but it also featured (at least to me) original interpretations and seemed not just an attempt to try to show that these guys are as good as a those found in a "really big city", but a group of talented people having fun performing their passionate love of music together.


I was impressed. Hickory shines again. I still don’t know whether this perceived "brilliance" on my part is because it really IS that good, or if it is just that I am still amazed that things THIS good live and thrive in the Friendly City called Hickory.




© John Womack, 2008. All rights reserved.

Michael Gulezian at Hickory Art Museum

The Hickory Art Museum hosted Michael Gulezian on November 22, 2008. About 140 people witnessed music turning into taffy as Michael pulled and stretched newly-formed sounds out of his guitar. One might have sensed that St. Cecilia had returned to earth for an hour or two but had only a guitar to express the entire soul of music, or perhaps that Gulezian was in the process of designing some original device, perhaps for space flight into new dimensions of sound. He certainly gave a new meaning to the expression of "playing the guitar" because he did play with the thing, introducing sounds that not yet ever been played before to each other. Then he brought them out before the amazed world, and danced with them as they wafted together through the audience.

It was a fascinating evening combining interesting music and interesting people in a surrounding of famous art and in the presence of the fabulously creative ghosts of Black Mountain College. Between the songs Gulezian conversed with the audience telling tales of his life and describing things he has seen and how he had felt about them, revealing to everyone present, except himself, that he really sees life from a poet's point of view. Then he played his songs with rhythm more than lyric, but it didn't matter because he was sharing his understandings in two different dimensions simultaneously. Drawbacks? Well, one did not leave the performance whistling the tunes he played. Even on the way home it was becoming hard to remember what he HAD played. Finally, it was a bit TOO much advant-garde, perhaps there should have been an occasion or two in which he quickly ran through a "normal" song to provide a vantage point to more clearly see what he is actually doing. If you have never seen him before and he comes to a place near you, don't miss the opportunity.

© John Womack, 2008. All rights reserved.

Asheville Autumn 2008

A chilly weekend in the Little City of Asheville. Snow fell and winds ripped through the streets and the temperature fell below 20°.


But our visit was filled with good food and fine music and a great time. We ate Indian food, and French food, and Tapas to the sound of west coast jazz. And we ate at Tupelo Honey, and that's as good as it gets.





We hit the Jack of the Wood for their Thursday night jam session and listened to mellow bluegrass music as the snow flakes fell outside.




And we visited Thomas Wolfe's house, the Smith-McDowell House, St. Lawrence Basilica and All Soul's Cathedral. What a weekend!

© John Womack, 2008. All rights reserved.

Religulous

Save your money. We went to the movie to see Bill Mahr in "Religulous". Not good. We were the ONLY two people in the entire theater, which is not necessarily bad but the entire film looked like a home-movie. No real writing was apparent anywhere in the whole mess, no story was told, just gibbering, disconnected series of comments and a lot of giggling. it lurched around showing disconnected segments of the under-classes of various denominations. A couple of scientists were also shown to be fools, and a renegade Catholic priest (allegedly a senior priest at the Vatican, sans collar and all) was shown deprecating "his" religion. The only unifying theme in the show was simply the presence of Bill Mahr being either innocently stupid or triumphantly victorious in every segment.

There were apparently random occurrences of explosions, pictures of nuclear detonations, destruction and horror quickly blasted across the screen as supposedly “funny” or "instructive" decorations. It also had several clips of the ABSOLUTELY WORST video/movie clips ever seen anywhere, these looked like they had been made with a home movie by a child chimpanzee filming on a pogo stick, then run through a washing machine several times and finally cooked in a microwave. Several of the “intellectual discussions” Mahr had with other people ended with the protagonist caught is a post-production-enhanced stupor of bewilderment. Throughout it all, Bill Mahr always starred as a happily victorious and truly gifted intellectual who was being good-naturally tolerant of poor bumbling religious fools.

True Believers will have their feelings about non-believers confirmed, real religious people will be angry, non-believers will be disappointed and spiritual beings will be sad. Mahr was rude, petty, self-centered and insulting throughout. Too bad because the popcorn was great.

© John Womack, 2008. All rights reserved.

Hickory Autumn Colors

Hickory brought color into our lives this year and in a big way.

The mountains turn color gradually, and in spots here and there. Not so down at the bottom of the Blue Ridge. At least this year, the colors all came in together and blanketed the area with sparkling jewely.









© John Womack, 2008. All rights reserved.

Halloween

This is the first Halloween we have had in 15 years. It's part of our reward for coming in out of the cold. Back on that high mountain ridge we lived on until this summer, we were a quarter of a mile from the "hard road". That's a long way for a young 'un to trek on a chilly - and spooky! - late autumn night.









We had a brilliant Halloween banner waving from our front porch for the week prior to the great event and hoped that would attract endless numbers of goblins and whatnots.





Hanging from the front door we had a couple of guides to help you find your way to great caramel treasures. These guys obviously have sampled some of the goodies.





And inside the front door we had a Welcoming Committee! All kinds of ways to have fun, goodies, tasties, great food for anyone brave enough to come in here!
And it worked! We had three witches, two ghosts, one Spanish dancer, a Joseph and a Mary, three goblins and two HOB-Goblins! And they all got handfuls of Hershies!

But as the night wore on, our Gobble-ins began to decline. We wondered why. Then - when we went outside at long last, we found out why! Our Jack O'Lantern on the front porch had become entirely too scary!


Had to get the dogs to get us back inside. Whew!

© John Womack, 2008. All rights reserved.

American Trash

Two American flags fly in this front yard. One of them has been shredded by the constant winds of summer, the smaller one is stained yellow by dog urine. Together they guard this family's treasures, including its diesel SUV truck. Some people are too busy to understand what they are really telling the rest of the world about themselves.

© John Womack, 2008. All rights reserved.