Barefoot In The Park - Greenroom

Quick run down to Newton to the Green Room to see "Barefoot in the Park".

Lots of fun to see, the play went well, and was very good at times. Acting sometimes seemed like actors acting like characters they had read about somewhere. Sometimes they did very good, sometimes they acted good. There were a lot of short comments, pithy and salient quips, which appeared to be an overtone of the play, some of which were very funny, some of which just couldn't be completely heard.

The staging of the play however, was compelling and interesting. The entire stage was totally redecorated between acts one and two by people apparently coming out of the audience. There was a lot of this type of reward for those who went to the Green Room.

The four personalities revealed on stage were developed through vignettes which must have been Neil Simon's niche, but they didn't really catch fire, probably because of the acoustics in the auditorium. Laughter throughout the audience was scattered, probably more to the ability of the auditorium to deliver the short statements rather than to the comprehension of the audience. Yet it was a very entertaining evening and the venue was nice. After the play was over, the actors were out "front" meeting and shaking the hands of the patrons who were on their way out. Touch of class.

Hickory Museum of Art - Chagall Presentation

Vivian Jacobson presented a discussion and slide show about Marc Chagall Sunday, March 15, 2009, in the Hickory Museum of Art. The presentation was attended by about sixty people and seemed well received. A short discussion followed and included comments about the contributions from the audience about some of the effects of Chagall's work including other well-known personalities such as Martin Buber, Author Koestler, Toscanini and even Elvis Presley.

Ms. Jacobson had known and worked with Mr. Chagall during the last 11 years of his life and she commented about him both as a personality as well as from personal knowledge. She also made insightful pointers about some of his paintings. I was struck by the composition of many of his paintings. Many, perhaps most of his subjects were positioned in the center of the frame, there seemed to be no verticality to the figures except in the final sense that they were somehow balanced and stable, he extensively had white areas touching the sides or top of the pictures and he used color in a remarkably contrasty manner. Green was largely absent from the work we saw today and when it was used it was richly saturated, heavy in value and sparingly used, or else it totally dominated the picture. Blues were his main color, lushly tinted and shaded, and a reddish-brownish-orangish-ochreish color shared that rule of his pictures with the blues, although the blues seemed not so richly melded with other hues.

Another "bravissimo!" for the Hickory Museum of Art. Nice work Lisë.

Springtime Cometh - Yea!

Hadn't walked my doggies for three days. The 100-pounder gets restless when this happens and he had gone far beyond restless all the way down into the pit which lies far beneath ennui. Great soulful eyes of sadness finally got to me so we went for a quick walk during a pause in the rain. Since it would be a short trip we walked a different path, one we had never walked before.

I noticed something that looked strange - a dead end street with a construction barrier at the end of it. New construction? Wow. So we went down there to see. Unfortunately, it had been terminated some time ago, maybe a year or two ago.We wandered into the area to look around, since it had sidewalks on both sides of a nicely winding street and then the rain came back. It was time to head for home. Shortly after turning around I suddenly realized (as Horace Kephart says it is always "suddenly") that I was lost! How on earth (no pun intended) could I, a Master Navigator who had crossed the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans countless times get lost a couple of blocks from my home? But I had no idea which way to go. So we stood there, my doggie Mujib and me, in the rain looking soulfully at each other for suggestions.

Then I saw this view. A nice monochrome green tapestry with grass and daffodill leaves and dark fir background, decorated by the contrasting hues of Japanese magnolia and daffodils flowers under a dark sky which fully saturated the colors - hard to beat. I pulled my camera out and made the shot, then we went home.

Kephart says "sit down, chew on a twig, draw a map in the dirt . . .", well making a photo is even better. Some of the best shots of springtime are made in the rain. I get so tied up in making the picture that I often lose track of whether it is raining or not or ever where I am.

Corinth Reformed Church - Hickory NC -Organ Recital for Lent

The Corinth Reformed Church. One of the brighter spots in all of Christendom is found right here in Hickory, the Friendly City. During Lent, organ recitals are presented on Fridays from 1230 until 1300 hours. The one we went today was so good we will have to go back again - and again. After the recital we went to Bistro 127 for a "European Lunch" and - well, that's another of the brighter spots in Christendom, but more about that later.

Back to the Corinth Reformed Church. It is a powerful statement of mankind's attribution of God. From the outside it sweeps in from its outlying rooms and offices rising like a concrete crescendo into the heavens. A body incarnate into a single finger pointing to its object of adoration.

Inside, the central aisle leads straight to the altar but your eye passes that by, lifting with the stained glass brilliance dominating the far church wall, rising to the ceiling. The greatest contrast in the entire church is where the bright organ tubes lift out from their dark support, and together with the vertical stained glass they form a great cross. That cross is echoed by the arches which lead down from each side of the church to turn the arms of the cross into an loving embrace which seems to say God is good.

Sound waves play upon your chest as the organ springs to life. A great pulsing note of power calls the faithful to prayer. The organist, Mr. Edwin Weber, a fourth-year student at Lenoir-Rhyne University has begun his offering to his audience and to God. Six pieces he performs over the next thirty minutes. The sound waves come later again to play on your chest and face, and still later the floor of the church vibrates the soles of your shoes as in a quaking earth. While playing a Bach prayer, Mr. Weber looks serene as if posing for a portrait, gazing forward like one hypnotized. Later, during a Boellmann Toccata, he writhes and lurches forward and backward, from side to side, with elbows rising and falling like a pilot bringing in a plane filled with apprehensive souls to a safe landing through a stormy and windy night.

What a wonderful treat! How good it is to be a part of all this, even if only as a spectator.

© John Womack, 2009. All rights reserved.

Frost/Nixon

Big movie. Good writing. Excellent acting. All the more in consideration of the fact that the two main characters were the ones who had performed these same roles repeatedly in a long-running play. Sure they knew their parts and their roles, and had their timing down pat - all that of course - but HOW did they continue to pull that climax so razor sharp, and thrust the burning realization of who these two men really were as deeply into the audience again, one - more - time?

Most of the time I watch movies I am aware of the actors and tend to see them as people earning a living trying to pretend they are somebody they really aren't. Should have been easy to do this again in this movie because neither of the characters looked anything like their real counterparts. At first glance, Frank Langella seemed a poor choice for Nixon, but within ten minutes I had become entranced. When the movie reached its climax, he WAS Nixon.

Touching

This is the first report sent from my new iTouch. Greetings from this new world.

What is Really Out There

After viewing the “Heart of the Sun” at the Millholland Planetarium in Hickory, North Carolina, I began reflecting on the enormity of the universe. Perhaps I should say I am speaking only of what we think we know of the universe. My daughter, who is an astrophysicist and teaches astronomy in college says our concepts of the stars are only a map of the human mind - not what is Really Out There. She also points out that when we look at the heavens we react only to that which can be seen by human eyes which is just a tiny fraction of what is Really Out There. Much of her work is done with xray, uv, infrared, and oogly-googly stuff that finds no pegs in my brain to hang onto.

But this much I do get (kind of). The "sun" (our star) is really a quite small star. It is located in an obscure part of a small galaxy we call the "MIlky Way". Galaxies are swarms of millions to trillions of stars and they can be hundreds of thousands of light years from one end to the other and farther than that from each other. The Milky Way is part of a collection of galaxies which is called a local cluster. There are many other local clusters, and together they make up a conglomeration of galaxies called a super cluster.

This is not the only super cluster. There are a lot of super clusters. One source estimates there are 100 super clusters within 1 billion light years of the planet Earth. That would only account for about 7% of the total number of super clusters. For a better explanation see http://www.atlasoftheuniverse.com/superc.html

Reflection leads us to understand then, that In one of these billions of super clusters there is a tiny local cluster of only about 10 to 20 galaxies, and one of those small galaxies is one that is called the "Milky Way", and off in a corner of it is what its residents call a “solar system” and in that is the planet they call Earth.

Now we are also told that Earth was created by Yahweh, or Allah or the Almighty God. He - and He is definitely a HE - ask any priest or Imam or rabbi - is accompanied by the Devil (another He) to keep the people there straight (they evidently have their masculine hands full). Somewhere around there also is heaven with its precious gold and lovely hymns, and hell with its burning brimstone and piercing screams.

Well, science begins with the premise that it does not know and it keeps saying “that’s funny” as it fumbles around with what it finds to play with. Religion begins with the premise that it does know and it can’t be distracted by What is Really Out There. When the two run together they can boggle the human mind. But What is Really Out There both with regard to science AND religion has GOT to be amazing - no matter how oogly-googly it may seem to me right now.

© John Womack, 2009. All rights reserved.

Heart of the Sun

To the Millholland Planetarium tonight to see a story about the sun.
Lots of good shots, good explanations by a member of the Catawba Valley Astronomy Association. Some instruction about sunspots, impressive auroral displays and almost too much gee-whiz information.

Also some outstanding views of the night sky, especially the DARK night sky over Hickory (which is never seen because it is never DARK over Hickory - but if it were, this is what it would look like) and that was amazing.

Then a little intro of a laser show coming up tomorrow afternoon.

All this after a little social with beer or wine and some nice crunchies. And of course, the displays were all available to wander around and view: the Mars Lander, lots of information about Mars in particular, lots more about astronomy, and the nature displays were open as were the light displays. Very enjoyable evening.

Spring is Here! (dammit)

By virtue of the authority invested in me,
as Grand Determiner of Significant Events -
I hereby declare that SPRING is HERE!
Let appropriate celebrations commence!

March Came in Like a Lamb. I'm not Lion.

Well, March sure came in like a lamb today. All white and soft and fleecy and fluffy.

Bueno, que llegó en marzo como un cordero el día de hoy. Todos de color blanco y suave y esponjoso y fleecy.

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.