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Super Bowl Sunday – February 4, 2018

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Nine friends from the hood came over to watch the game. Though I knew they were coming, I provided no chicken wings, no chips, and no beer (I know that sounds unAmerican – I’ve never seen Gone With the Wind either), but someone brought a ten pound slab of chocolate, so we were all set. I finished it off for breakfast (just kidding – or am I?).

Two of the nine friends left the opera early to arrive in time for the game, not because they are such big football fans but because they thought the opera was so awful that they couldn’t leave fast enough (they did wait for intermission so that they wouldn’t be banned for life – a poor motivation in my opinion).

One attendee, who was rooting for the Eagles, as was most everyone in the room who knew we were watching football (remember we had opera lovers there), kept reminding us that the Patriots always came from behind to win. Even after the game was over, she seemed concerned that she would arrive home to discover that something had happened en route, well after the final whistle, to change the result in the Patriot’s favor (no one ever expects the Spanish Inquisition and no one trusts the Patriots).

As the game ended my guests established a new world indoor record for quickest departure from a Super Bowl party because they wanted to get home in time to watch the special episode of This Is Us airing after the game (the intricacies of recording a show after a live sporting event apparently had eluded most of them and they were worried that the artificial intelligence of their DVRs wouldn’t pick up the slack). I‘ve never seen the show, but I gather that night’s episode was revealing the cause of a lead character’s death. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t J.R. Ewing’s and that Bobby wasn’t coming out of the shower, but who knows. After all, the Patriots were four-and-a-half point favorites.

The Rest of Theater 2017

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In other posts I’ve singled out some of the plays I went to in 2017. Here’s a quick survey of the rest of them to wrap up 2017 (you’ve probably received all your bank tax statements by now also).

I saw two plays at the Porchlight Theater, Scottsboro Boys and Woman of the Year (at the theater’s new location), where I discovered Meghan Murphy (see blog on Big Red and the Boys). Both are Kander and Ebb shows, but otherwise couldn’t be more different, one serious and based on a true story, the other lighthearted and not, like me.

When the Marriott Lincolnshire Theatre wasn’t underwater from flooding, I saw She Loves Me and Honeymoon in Vegas. Same usher, coincidentally. She remembered me because we discussed at length the need for me to keep my legs out of the aisle the first time (as my friends know, I always try to get an aisle seat). If the usher is reading this, I was just kidding about tripping the actors, really.

I saw Parade on my first trip to the Writers Theater. The play introduced me to the music of Jason Robert Brown, which is what led me to see Honeymoon in Vegas, for more music from him. That and the flying Elvises.

Five Guys named Moe (also my first time at the Court Theater) is not actually a show about five guys named Moe. What little story there is, is just an excuse for Big Moe, Four-Eyed Moe, Eat Moe, No Moe, and Little Moe to sing and dance. Worked for me. Give me Moe.

But not more King Charles III (Shakespeare Theater). I’m not an Anglophile. I just didn’t care about the characters. But I ran into an old friend at the show, who bought me a drink, so all was not lost.

The two characters in Mr. and Mrs. Pennyworth (Lookingglass Theater) are storytellers, which was appropriate given my foray into storytelling in 2017. But the best thing in the show was a giant, mythological boar (as opposed to the real bore in King Charles III).

The lead actress in Born Yesterday at the Greenhouse Theater was like a medium channelling Judy Holliday, but not in a cataleptic state. She was able to move about the stage.  Indeed, this medium was well done.

Museums – 2017

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In 2017 I visited exhibits at the Museum of Broadcast Communications, Art Institute, American Writers Museum, Museum of Contemporary Art (MCA), and Musical Instrument Museum.

The Musical Instrument Museum is supposedly in Phoenix, but I didn’t see anything but desert for miles around it, which reminds me, I also visited the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum in Tucson, where I learned that javelinas look similar to, but are not pigs. Okay, good to know. The special exhibit at the instrument museum was Dragons and Vines: Inlaid Guitar Masterpieces. The guitars were much more attractive than the javelinas.

The Breakup exhibit at the MCA was mostly related to a serious topic, but what caught my attention was that it also had some cool memorabilia related to theories on the timeline of the breakup of The Beatles. Spoiler alert – they’re not getting back together.

The Saturday Night Live: The Experience exhibit at the Museum of Broadcast Communications offers you the possibility of paying more money on top of your admission fee to have your picture taken behind the Weekend Update news desk. I passed on that part of the experience, went home, and sat behind my own desk for free.

I went to the Rodin exhibit at the Art Institute expecting to see paintings of a giant flying monster from a 1956 Japanese horror film (oops, that was Rodan), but instead saw a bunch of sculptures, including one of some naked guy thinking. I wonder whether he was thinking about giant flying monsters.

I’ve been to Jack Kerouac’s grave in Lowell Massachusetts (wasn’t my idea), and seen Jack Kerouac Alley across the street from City Lights Bookstore in San Francisco, but I’ve never read On the Road Again, even though it was the anthem of my generation, or so I’m told. I loved Canned Heat’s hit On the Road Again, way before Willie Nelson recorded it. I’m not sure what to make of all that, but it was still interesting to see the 120-foot-long roll of paper upon which Kerouac typed the On the Road manuscript, which was on display at the American Writers Museum last October. By the way, in case you’re wondering, it’s not toilet paper, though that would have made an even better story.

Baseball 2017 – Phoenix, Chicago, St. Louis

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On August 12, 1994 major league baseball players went on strike. When the players went on strike, so did I. Over the years I softened my stance somewhat, but still hadn’t crossed my own picket line more than a few times prior to 2017 (amazingly the Bartman game was one of those times, though I swear I was in no way responsible for the result).

So 2017 was a breakout year for me. For the first time in over 25 years I went to a spring training game, actually three games. A week in Arizona in March seemed like a good idea (though it had been warm enough in Chicago in February to play golf four days in a row).

All the games we went to were day games. They don’t seem to play night games in spring training in Arizona, which I don’t understand, given that one could play golf during the day, while there is absolutely nothing to do in Arizona in the evening. The one day that our seats were in the sun, we spent most of the game in the shade by the first baseline bar watching the game on TV. Not sure that was worth a three and a half hour flight.

Closer to home, 2017 marked my first time at Wrigley Rooftops. Unfortunately, I’m not too fond of heights. Fortunately, it was early in the season, and very cold, so I spent about five seconds outside watching the game and the rest of the time safely inside, warm, watching on tv, and scrounging for food and drink, until I left in the sixth inning.

The final lap of my 2017 baseball rebirth was a Cardinal game in St. Louis when I was there for a conference. I don’t expect to go to many games in the future, though the nerd in me would consider an opportunity to add another park to my resume (having attended games in 13 major league parks to date despite my prolonged absence from the fray), and an invitation to watch a game from a luxury suite with a dessert bar is always tempting.

Ragtime – Cahn Auditorium – January 27, 2018

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Northwestern University’s annual Dolphin Show, billed as “America’s Largest Student Produced Musical”, is in its 76th year.  Yet somehow I just found out about it.  Working sure did cramp my style.

We went to see the students put on Ragtime at Cahn Auditorium, twice. The first time we were there a week early, so we went back a week later when the play was actually being performed.  I’ll take credit for that first troubling sign of senility, but at least we knew where to park when we went back.

Both times it was a lovely ride up Lake Shore Drive and Sheridan Road, though my companion was annoyed by all the Evanston homes that still had their Christmas lights and trees up a month after the fact.  I was okay with the lights.  Evanston streets are otherwise dark at night.  Lights are lights.

With no play to see the first time we drove up, only a few students who were obviously surprised when we entered the otherwise empty and unprepared auditorium (we all stood there staring at each other, dumbfounded, for what was probably only three seconds but seemed like an eternity while I tried to comprehend the situation), we walked to Dave’s New Kitchen for dinner.

Dave’s is tiny – the predecessor, Dave’s Italian Kitchen, was huge (maybe that’s why it went bankrupt). We were lucky to get a table after only a 15-minute wait on a Saturday night. Then again, it’s Evanston, not Chicago.  Great homemade pasta at good prices, optional BYOB.. Students and us.

The show featured a large, talented, student cast and orchestra, some nice set design, and a great Model T prop car.  The show was long (almost three hours including intermission).  But that’s a function of Ragtime, not this specific production.  And not as bad as the one time I went to the Northwestern Waa-Mu show, which, as I recall, lasted well into the next day.

Pilates Class – 2017

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Apparently there are between eight and fourteen different kinds of yoga. In 2016 I tried one (well two, really, if you count the one chair yoga session I took at a conference – I don’t). Yoga is not for me. For one thing, I have bad knees, and many of the standing positions (not in the chair class) were unrealistic for me. And I’m just not into the whole spiritual side of it. I don’t say amen, so why would I say namaste.  Near the end of one class the instructor told us to clear our minds and forget about work. I had until she said that. Then I couldn’t stop thinking about it

So, when I retired, I decided to try Pilates. I’d had instruction in the use of a reformer, but I find a mat class better for me. So three mornings a week I, one other guy, and between three and eight women, head for the party room in our building, where we’re led through an hour-long class (one of those 50-minute hours actually), at the end of which I just know that I’ve elongated previously undiscovered fibers throughout of my body, though perhaps not to the extent of Elastigirl in The Incredibles.

And, indeed, I’ve noticed an improvement in my flexibility as it relates to my golf swing. Also, I’ve finally met some people in my building after 10 years (and learned their names). Some of us even go out together for drinks, which apparently is an integral part of Pilates training, at least in our building.

The most interesting aspect of the class is that the two guys head for the front and most of the women fight to be as far back as possible. Exactly the opposite of every other exercise class I’ve ever been in. There’s a lot of chatter, and who knows what else, that goes on behind me, out of my visual range.  I’ve heard rumors about people falling off rollers.  But I’ve been told that what happens in the back row, stays in the back row.

Storytelling Class – Second City

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My search for new activities after retiring led me to try the hottest thing around town, storytelling (the Moth has been around for 20 years but it seems like there has been a noticeable growth spurt in the last few years, at least to me, with numerous locations hosting monthly events).

It was a natural choice for me, as I am an excellent, though infrequent liar, using my skill not to deceive, but to amuse (honest). Hyperbole, sarcasm, and parody, if you will.  As I learned quickly in my storytelling class at Second City in early 2017, however, the stories are supposed to be true. This limitation means that not only do you have to pay attention to what is going on around you, but also that you have to remember it (a young person’s game). As much as that sounded like work, I forged ahead, laboriously dredging up memories thought to be lost in the undefined depths of my mind (unlike legal writing, storytelling thrives on adjectives and adverbs, long underused, but welcome accessories in my vocabulary).

The class was excellent and it returned to me the joy of creating a story and standing in front of an audience, small as it might be, for whatever appreciation I might get, small as it might be. For years I’ve had two relaxation stones, given to me by a friend, one engraved with the word create, and the other with the word laugh. That sums it up for me.

During the run of the class I went to a storytelling event, my first, at Steppenwolf Theater. I found a number of the stories depressing (mine will attempt to be humorous), but seeing experienced storytellers do their thing was useful.

Since then I’ve gone twice to Mrs. Murphy and Sons Irish Bistro to see more stories, including one by a friend with whom I took my class. Inspired by his performance, I’ve signed up to tell one of my own, which probably won’t be until the fall. In the meantime, I’m telling short stories on this blog. Stay tuned.

Jackalope Theater Company – 2017

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My friend Karen and I saw two productions of the Jackalope Theater Company in 2017 at the Broadway Armory Park Fieldhouse (formerly the home of the local National Guard), which is an interesting place to see a play. In addition to the small, spartan theater, the fieldhouse has volleyball, yoga, gymnastics, tae kwon do, dance, badminton, and basketball, among other activities.

The first time we went, Karen wore heels. A mistake she decided. Though we parked in the tiny lot adjoining the armory, it’s a hike from the front door to the second floor rear theater, because of which your ticket confirmation email actually tells you to allow enough extra time to get to your seats. Theater volunteers position themselves along the way to guide you in case you didn’t bring a map and bread crumbs.

We saw Ideation in June 2017. It’s an interesting psychological examination involving unknown factors and peer pressure impacting a seemingly unthinkable situation. Very thought provoking.

In December we went back for 1980 (Or Why I’m Voting for John Anderson).  I voted for John Anderson in 1980. To quote Steve McQueen in The Magnificent Seven, “It seemed like a good idea at the time.” So I felt compelled to see the play.

We almost were late for the play as we stopped to watch a young woman work up the energy or nerve to grab a bar and leap into the indoor sky from a platform. Did I forget to mention that the fieldhouse also has a trapeze school? Not your typical theatrical venue.

The play was okay. The highlight for me was the performance of one of the actresses, who transformed her body language through the course of the show from an innocent, scared young lady to a seasoned, confident woman as her character developed.

Reviews for Franklinland, now playing at the theater, look good.  So I expect to be going back soon, in anticipation of which I’ve started working out.

Ah Wilderness – Goodman Theater – July 6, 2017

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The Goodman Theater is a wonderful venue, with two great spaces. Its shows present top-notch actors and excellent production values and I can walk there.  But lately almost every time I go there I wish I hadn’t. I know this makes me an outlier, but this is my blog. Get your own.

The theater marketed Ah Wilderness as Eugene O’Neill’s classic family comedy. They got everything right except the part about comedy. I was bored to tears and left at intermission. With nothing else to say about that, I will recap my other recent visits to the Goodman.

In September 2016 I saw Wonderful Town, music by Leonard Bernstein, book by Betty Comden and Adolph Green. Great credentials. And I remember, as a kid, loving the movie version of the play My Sister Eileen, upon which the musical was based. Rosalind Russell in her prime. But the show is dated. What it made me think of however, was Avenue Q, another show about the quirky residents of a street (Avenue Q versus Christopher Street). Avenue Q may be my favorite play, ever. Sue me (no wait, that was Guys and Dolls – loved that one too).

In December 2016 I saw Second City’s Twist Your Dickens at the Goodman. I had high hopes, but the production was filled with swearing, which was supposed to be funny, and many in the audience apparently found it to be, but I found it distracting and tedious. No talent involved. If I owned a watch I would have kept looking at it.

The one show I did like at the Goodman the last couple years was King of the Yees (April 2017). It wasn’t perfect, but it was current and everything about it was interesting.

Because its plays consistently get good reviews, I’ll probably keep going back to the Goodman for more, but for the new stuff, not for the retreads of shows that are over 60 years old (except maybe Guys and Dolls).

BMW Championship – Conway Farms – September 16, 2017

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Getting two free passes to the BMW Championship (golf tournament) is nice in and of itself, but the real benefits come in the form of the parking pass for a lot that’s a relatively short shuttle ride from the course and access to the corporate tent and all its free food and drink.

I’ve been to golf tournaments before (and frankly I’d rather be playing than watching) but my guest had not, and he was elated at the opportunity, like a little kid in a candy store. The added attraction was that I previously had met one of the players, a young man in his first year on the PGA Tour.

When we arrived at the course, we walked around a little to get our bearings and then headed for the food. We arrived at the tent just in time to get some of the breakfast remains before they were cleared away. Once on the course again, we set our sights on finding the player I knew. We tracked him down about the 13th hole and not unexpectedly he did not have a big following, which made it easy for me to identify his mother, whom I had met years ago, and reintroduce myself. She remembered me (we have a mutual friend) and brought me up to speed on her son’s play that day, which had not been good.

Upon our arrival, however, her son’s game picked up. He started making birdies, finishing strong.  My work there being done, my friend and I retreated to the food tent for lunch. Then back onto the course for a while, until we had had enough of the blazing sun, whereupon one last visit to the food tent seemed appropriate before departing, though we were extremely disappointed that the afternoon snack did not include ice cream. I don’t remember who won the tournament.