Portrait of a Friend: Jill

Jill as Laura

Jill Paice and I are inextricably linked. Yes, we are both actresses and singers. Yes, we were both raised as only children in the Midwest. But we were initially linked by a mutual acquaintance of ours: Laura Fairlie.

Unlike other big musicals I could name, there are only two people to have ever played Andrew Lloyd Webber's Laura Fairlie (okay, three if you count Anne Hathaway in the workshop and six if you count understudies who went on).

It is a funny thing, long before I ever met Jill, I felt as though I already knew her. After all, when preparing to audition for the role, I was still a young 21-year-old drama student, busy playing 8 men and a puppet in an Ionesco farce in Glasgow. I spent an inordinate amount of time "with her"-- listening to her beautiful performance both before and after getting the role, attempting to be as familiar with Limmeridge House as possible in between classes.

The first time I met her I had not been in London 5 hours. I got off the train from Glasgow, plopped my bags down and attempted to find The Palace Theatre for my very first professional costume fitting. I tried to pretend it was nobigdeal, but in all honesty, I was overwhelmed to be inside a professional theatre, let alone one in the West End, let alone being fitted for twelve not-from-my-closet-or-from-Scottish-Opera-stock-but-made-for-me dresses... for a female character...

From the wig room around the corner came a voice, "Alexandra?"

"Yes?" Oh my goodness, I thought, this was Jill.

"Hi," she smiled so warmly, her hair was wet and tousled, a towel around her shoulders. She had been in the middle of a haircut before the show. I couldn't believe how different we were-- there she was: a willowy blond, Nordic looking almost. She was small-framed with delicate features; but her stance was assured-- full of feminine strength and confidence. A far cry from what felt like the almost childish dark featured Gibson girl staring shyly across from her. Or perhaps that is merely how it felt.

Jill extended her hand, I do not know if she could tell that I was nervous. In hindsight, I wonder if she may have been a bit nervous herself. "I'm Jill. I'm playing Laura right now..." ohmygodI'msoembarrassedhowmuchIknowthatIliterallylistentoyoueverysingleday I think. She continues, "I've heard so much about you and wanted to say hello."

"Thank you so much," I say, returning her hand. "I've spent so much time listening to you, it is such a pleasure to meet you."

Al as Laura

"Everything going well so far?"

"Well I just got here this afternoon actually! I literally just left drama school in Glasgow on Wednesday, so I'm a little shell-shocked if I'm honest." I breathed deeply, and she smiled.

"That is amazing," she said. She was so genuine. "I was just getting my haircut," she said, sort of apologizing, and we laughed, "and I should let you get back to your fitting!"

"Okay, thank you for taking the time."

"My pleasure, I will see you soon. Take care."


*

But it didn't end there. For those of you who do not know, there is an extensive drawing scene in The Woman in White that involves large sketch books. During the day, I would rehearse with the actual sketch book that Jill used in the evening. One day I saw a little note in the book that simply read,

"Hello Alexandra, do you use this sketch book too?"

I was enchanted! It was a message from another world! It felt like George and Amalia, like Griffin and Sabine, like a message from beyond. The sketch book was a portal to communication. I wrote back,

"Yes I do American lady. How is everything going?"

she wrote back

"Well! Is rehearsal going okay? Anything you need just ask!"

and it continued on like that for a couple of weeks.

Cards and gifts were exchanged on her closing, and my opening nights. She stood and cheered when she returned to watch the show before re-rehearsing for Broadway, always gracious, always a true lady. And on her opening night in New York, I sent her a bouquet of silk flowers (learning from our lovely dresser Helen that she was allergic to real ones).

It was funny, somewhere along the line, Jill and I had sort of become friends and only ever met face to face-- once.

*

Months ago, new to the city and overwhelmed by waves of new people, I ran into Jill at The Plaza Hotel, (at the opening night party of Promises Promises). She was there with a legendary composer and we greeted one another with such warmth, like the reunion of two old friends.

"Al?" she called across the foyer to me, and we hugged. " Legendary Composer?" she turned to the Legendary Composer friend, "this is Alexandra Silber. Al replaced me in The Woman in White in London and she is the real thing. I saw her play Laura after I left, and you are gonna see her performing in New York very soon. Who knows? Maybe someday together."

She turned to me and smiled. In a room filled with celebrities and having no idea how genuine anyone may or may not be, it was clear in her voice to hear how much she meant it. I was floored. We hugged and parted in the sea of celebrities and met a few weeks later for a proper 'friend date.'

And this was it: something about sharing secrets, truths and cappuccinos on the Upper West Side solidified what we had both always known, we were not just actresses passing in the night, we truly were kindred spirits. For a lack of better way of articulating it, it seemed we 'recognized' one another.

We talked, we laughed, we shared the intimacies that belong to those who have known one another for years. She told me the story of her life. I filled in the details of mine. My trials and tribulations, my travels, my projects. "What brings me to New York?" something about the way she asked the question was larger than it appeared. I answered accordingly, something made me trust her, despite our lack of clocked "hours" as friends, "I just figured it was time. I felt it. And I needed a change of scenery. And I thought, you know what? Fortune favors the brave."

Her expression rang with astonishment. "...You're amazing." she said softly and when she said it I could not believe how much she meant it. It was impossible to me to be this impressive to a woman I admired so greatly on so many levels. "You are such an inspiration!"

Again, I was mystified. "My God," I replied, my voice shocked, "thank you, Jill."

Most people never learn to be vulnerable, never to be open. Even in the most intimate relationships they remain guarded, closed, afraid. The truth is, the heart is a powerful awe-inspiring force to be reckoned with in the world and Jill Paice's heart is the true inspiration. Seeing her energy fully revealed as she sat before me openhearted, I was moved. She projects a genuine-ness, a kindness, an open, conscious vulnerability that can only come from strength. I wanted to bask in her light, to align myself with that energy.

It was time to thank her. Something I'd wanted to say for years.

"You know Jill, in many ways, The Woman in White changed my entire life, it was responsible for the path I am currently on..." I admit meekly, shy to admit the truth, "and in every way you and Laura, and you as Laura, were the Ambassadors to that new world. I've never been able to thank you properly, to your face. I don't know that I've ever really seen it with as fine a clarity until recently. So thank you for that. I always tried to honor what you had started."

She stared at me. Perhaps a little bit floored.

And that was that.

Sometimes in life we just "find our people"--  friendships form in the most curious of times and places. They feel right. Then seeds are planted, they gestate, solidify and grow.

In a world of disappointments, falsities and insincere exchanges, where people take, deceive and often walk all over, it is important to pause and take a moment to mark when we see a light. Jill Paice is remarkable and has been more than an Ambassador or a person to share cappuccino with-- for whatever people may see onstage, I wanted the world to know that for someone privileged enough to know her I am inspired by her being as well as, but not merely by, her performances.
She is a light.

So.

Lauras unite.

...and Whiskers on Kittens...

Tamara de Lempicka

1. Art Deco and the 1930's

Art Deco affected all areas of design throughout the 1920s and 1930s, including architecture and industrial design, as well as the visual arts such as painting, the graphic arts and film. At the time, this style was seen as elegant, glamorous, functional and modern. There is something about this world of design (mirrored by the psychological culture of the time period) between the two world wars that highlights a certain sense and vision of progress, of hope, efficiency, cleanliness and simplicity. In the words of F. Scott Fitzgerald, the distinctive style of Art Deco was shaped by 'all the nervous energy stored up and expended in the War.'

2. The Magical, Mystical, incredibly sexy ©Slurpee.

It is cold. Slush-like-but-not-a-©Slushy. Like shaved ice but not ©Shaved Ice. A ©Slurpee is the best of every world of frozen confection-- sweet, cold, colorful and simple. Like snow. With flavor. (In fact, who didn't do that as a kid? Run out to the freshly fallen snow, collect it in a cup and pour juice over it? ... no one...? Just me...? Well for all of you who weren't frozen refreshment obsessed, or are from the warmer climes, I am telling you this trick was magic.) When I was in still at Groves High School in Metro-Detroit (before my Interlochen sojourn), my friends and I (specifically Bill Bradley, Justin Bodary and Katie Battersby) thought that driving to the 7-11 for a giant ©Slurpee was the ultimate in "killing-time-and-aimlessly-hanging-out-which-means-driving-around-the-suburbs-because-we-can-do-that-but-cannot-yet-drink" activities. The pure dietary joys of the DIET PEPSI Slurpee. Not to mention the Crystal Light Slurpee. (Hellllls yeah). As I grew up? The alcoholic ©Slurpee became my favorite cocktail. What is that you ask? Why that would be the MOJITO. Sí. And why do I love it? Um. Because it is an alcoholic ©Slurpee...? Nuff said there.

3.   Carnivals

They are dark magic and I love them. I love the Tilt-A-Whirl. I love skee ball. I love the cotton candy. But mostly I adore the darkly magical atmosphere— the aesthetic ache, the ever-so-slightly twisted beauty of it all. I love it all. I love to share it with one other person. But mostly I love to go alone.

4. Naming things.

Inanimate objects. Toys. Animals. I love names and their meanings in general (Incidentally: Alexandra? (Greek: Αλεξάνδρᾱ) is the feminine form of the given name Alexander, which is a romanization of the Greek name Αλέξανδρος (Alexandros). Etymologically, the name is a compound of the Greek verb ἀλέξειν (alexein) "to defend" and the noun ἀνδρός (andros), genitive of ἀνήρ (anēr) "man". Thus it may be roughly translated as "protector and defender of mankind." Amazing.) I used to own a lot of Baby Naming books as a child, not imagining my own children someday mind you (because I am just notthatgirl), but instead, pouring over the etymology of the names within the pages. It ignited my imagination! Who IS Simon? Isabella? Nicholas? Anders? Ilona? What do they do? Where do they come from? Naming is science, psychology, sociology and anthropology in one. And nothing captures a person place or things better, than the perfect name.

EXAMPLES...

My dog [that I do not yet own, but might someday]: Kevin. A deeply normal, deeply human name without the slightest trace of whimsy. 'Rover' and 'Spike' be damned! 'Ginger' or 'Blondie'? I say 'pah!' 'Bob' or 'Jack' even are so normal and human that they point at themselves-- NO. Kevin is a lovely sounding, but right-in-the-middle-of-normalcy name that when you think of it, just does not belong to a dog. But it will...

My cat [again, fictional cat]: Dr. Rosenbloom. Because.... well, just because. Because the thought of a cat not having a name but a title delights me. Satirical (but only satirical) whimsy with cats is allowed. Picture it at the vet: "The doctor will see you now," the nurse will say. And I will say, "Dr. Rosenbloom will see YOU now..."

5. Trains

Watching them, listening to them, taking them places. It is a throwback to the Golden Age of Travel (if there ever was such a thing... I might have just made that up... but I think it should exist...), it is green, and relaxing and no-fuss, and far and away my transportation of choice. Perhaps, (politics aside--everybody just caaaaalm down) this is due to my unutterable love of the literary character Dagny Taggart. Perhaps it is due to Scottish dramatist David Greig's beautiful play Europe. I don't know. I think a great deal of nature, and always look for ways to protect our planet and let it flourish. But, I also believe in the equally moving and terribly important to recognise the great, often mammoth accomplishments of mankind. Man is capable of both great destruction, yes, and we so often hear of that. But of creation too: long stretches of steel that disappear into the infinite horizons, train cars that move at seemingly impossible speeds, tracks capable of connecting vast continents? It makes me think of everything I believe in. "It is not death that we wish to avoid, but life that we wish to live."

Thus far in my lifetime my favorite train rides have been The Red Arrow overnight train from Moscow to St. Petersburg, the beautiful commute from London Euston to Sheffield (no laughing, that is for real-- travel by day and check out that countryside), and the Amtrak service from New York to Washington DC. Pure. Class.

6. Talking to strangers on all forms of transportation (planes, trains or automobiles... I can't stop myself...) My parents, in one of those classic and unbelievable love stories, met on an airplane. My father let my mother out of the aisle exiting from a flight in Madrid from Barcelona during the bicentennial summer of 1976. Mom is one of those people that likes to wait for everyone to get off the plane so she can take her time exiting. She read a book to pass the time while the anxious and angry Europeans fought their way off. Dad, saw her sitting by the window waiting, and, stunned by her beauty (though he was quite the looker himself), was so speechless all he could do was gesture lamely with his hand for her to exit, blocking a tidal wave of angry Europeans behind him.

And once on the Piccadilly line I saw a young student sitting beside a large, stuffed dog in the vein of a carnival prize. The dog was the size of a human, bright blue and taking up a seat of his very own. "May I?" I asked the student and he moved the dog and placed it on his lap.

There was a pause.

"So..." I said, "what's his name?"

The student looked at me through his glasses with a slight, good-humored surprise. "He does not have one."

"Oh."

"Do you want to name him?"

HELL YES I DID. After all-- I LOVE NAMING THINGS. But then I totally blanked. Nothing was coming. So I blurted out the most obvious choice I could think of-- "Alexander!"

"Alexander? That is a Greek name! I am Greek!"

"Really?"

"Yes, George, nice to meet you."

"Greek George-- as in Jorges?"

"Yes! That is good."

"I worked in a Greek restaurant as a teenager,"  I am sort of proud.

"What is your name?"

I hung my head in shame slightly... "Alexandra."

"Ah I see!"

George told me he was a student studying Economics at one of the London Universities. Then he asked what I did and I pointed to a Carousel poster and said-- "uhh...that's me." AND THEN GEORGE TOOK THE TIME TO COME TO THE SHOW! He is (and was) terribly nice and I hope he an Alexander are doing well.

7. Addressing points in numerical order.

I would assume this one is self-explanatory.

8. Amber

(or, technically, resinite) is fossilized tree resin (not sap), which has been appreciated for its color and natural beauty since Neolithic times. (It has been appreciated by me since 1983 minimum). Found primarily in Scandinavia and elsewhere around the Baltic Sea (it is generally accepted that the amber from the Baltic region is the world’s finest, although the word "amber" itself is derived from the old Arabic word "anbar"); and because it originates as a soft, sticky tree resin, amber sometimes includes animal and plant material as inclusions. There are five classes of amber, defined on the basis of their chemical constituents. (Bwahaha I know stuff about amber because I like it so much).

Amber is used to symbolize power, command and authority. It indicates that rewards come through the productive intellect and the harvest of creative faculties. Wearing amber, either as a stone or as a string of beads, brings victory despite competition and opposition. It counteracts the dangers of loss through law. Looks. Function. Depth. Amber: What's not to like?

9. All things Muppet

Someone once asked me which Muppet I would be and I said this was a very difficult question because there was a pronounced difference between the Muppet we wish to be and the Muppet we are.

I suppose this is same with almost any “if you could be any XX what would it be?” question but therein lies the crux— the operative word here is the “if you could” versus the “if you were.” (I'm not certain if it is clear, but semantics are sort of delightful and important to me. But I digress...)

So. If I could be any Muppet? Tough. Kermit and Grover is as close as I can narrow it down without an extended essay.

But if I were any Muppet? I'm afraid the truth is that I am most likely a combination of Snuffalupagus, Bert, and Statler & Waldorf (They are two ornery, disagreeable old men who first appeared in the The Muppet Show heckling the rest of the cast from their balcony seats?)

...Yourselves?

10. Venice

It is at the beginning of Chapter Six in Italo Calvino's Invisible Cities that Kublai Khan confronts Marco Polo about the subject of Venice.

“There is still one of which you never speak.”
Marco Polo bowed his head.
“Venice,” the Khan said.
Marco smiled. “What else do you believe I have been talking to you about?”
The emperor did not turn a hair. “And yet I have never heard you mention that name.”
And Polo said: “Every time I describe a city I am saying something about Venice.”

Marco Polo eventually admits that all his described cities are one and the same city: Venice, his Home. His point of origin. The Khan marvels at this.

So do I. Because it is not merely Calvino's artistry and vision that articulates this fine point upon everyone's individual relationship with their Home, but he defines as best he can the evocative nature of Venice itself in a literal sense. Venice is a stirring place-- sexy, dangerous, elegant, nurturing, beautiful, not at all unlike the many facets of a living woman. And it is as if the spirit of this woman has cast a spell over every one that has ever known her, changed them, then altered them eternally. Then suddenly, and without warning, she disappeared-- and we are all left in the wake of our memories, searching for the way she made us feel, the way she made us think, see, live.. or perhaps just simply to be with her, again. And in traveling to Venice you will not encounter the woman. No. Rather you will encounter all of those who lived within her birthplace. They are stunned; haunted by their lost love. They see her in every flicker of light upon the ornate glass figures. They smell her scent around every narrow cobbled alleyway. Her image is reflected in every canal. Her face behind every Carnivale mask.  

“Or perhaps, speaking of other cities, I have already lost it, little by little...”

"Subterranean Blues" - ©Nick Bantock

I've Been...

Still Adjusting. Still capital A.

Enjoying the cold beverages and dessert treats of summer. Mmmm.

Returning to my beloved Detroit. It's home.

Making my own breakfast cereal (thank you Fran!)

Road-tripping it with Lance! (including chasing a stranger off the road, and a trip to Frankenmuth Christmas Wonderland...)

Returning to Interlochen Arts Camp. "Sounding the call" for the first time in 8 years! I am, and will always be, an Interlochen LIFER— and bleed blue.

Weekending in Conneticuit. (Fine) and spending that time almost exclusively in a hammock.

Adventuring to the beautiful Bershires for the first time, and indulging in picnic-ing to Mahler 4 at Tanglewood

Meeting my idols: (ummm Barbra Cook anyone?!)

Having crazy 'New York' days. Example:

1. shot a commercial 
2. came home and went for a long run then 
3. discovered I had locked myself out of my apartment... so I 
4. crashed a party on the first floor of my building and 
5. climbed through their window to 
6. climb fire escape 4 stories and
7. BREAK IN to my apartment.  
8. BOOM! I AM A NINJA!!

...Consequently doing a celebratory Ninja dance.

IN. MY. CAVE. (So sorry friends, it is how I cope with difficulty! So appreciative of everyone's patience!)... but really getting to the bottom of some nitty-gritty stuff.

Celebrating 27 years in classic Silber-birthday-induced-anxiety mode.

Enjoying what can only be called Team British Invasion at the very chi chi Bar Centrale. A grand early birthday tête w/ Alexander Hansen, his gorgeous talented wife Samatha Bond, Ruthie, and our shared friend and manger Jeff. [w/Cheno, Lapaglia, Lane, Hayes SJBlock sightings]

...Only to enjoy an incredible cab ride home. The driver drove me "close enough," stopped the meter, then gave me loving, informed tour of Astoria. "Love your home" he said. What a gift.

Loving new friendships (Jill, Kudisch, Brooksher), and renewing old ones (Alley, Dane, Nick, Ari, Alex...)

Booking and filming that commercial babaaaaay...[*celebratory club dancing*]

Journeying by bus! (Ahhhh Americana at it's very... cheapest...)

Enjoying correspondence. (Always a good day when The Bantock drops you an email...)

Celebrating Bastille Day singing at The Metropolitan Room (“Ne Me Quitte Pas” anyone?)

Honoring the journey: One Year. I lived.

Planning and planning Feinstein’s solo cabaret debut. (More information to come!)

Images: Spring to Summer Adventures

Images from the last few months. Spring and Summer in the land of the free. Delicious return to London. Magical weddings in Oxford and Richmond. Adventures at Coney Island. Friends and family all over the planet. Priceless.

My Hometown: A List

Summer always makes me miss my hometown of Birmingham, Michigan. There are so many beautiful nooks and crannies in this seemingly sleepy, WonderYearsEsque suburban town complete with wide American streets peppered with Labradors, slip-n-slides and children on their bicycles. There is a buzzy downtown with two arty cinemas, boutiquey shopping, and utterly glorious places to eat for every budget.

And beyond Birmingham's borders lies the Detroit suburbs of Royal Oak, Dearborn, Berkley, Warren, and Bloomfield Hills... all of which have their very own personalities and some very impressive features-- such as Berkley's old fashioned drive-in A&W burger joint where they bring the food to your car, Royal Oak's Yuppieville delights including the best stamp store, goth scene, community theatre, and milkshake in town, and a plethora of 7-11s, millinery shops and quality people.

And that is it, of course: the people of Metro-Detroit are what I miss the most. My neighbors on good ol' Fairway Drive-- we all used to get together for actual summer picnics and barbeques, we'd drink sangria in our backyards on summer nights, we'd walk along the Rough River that flowed behind our houses, we gathered together at Thanksgiving.  Tom and Sal on the corner with their beloved dog Riley. Bill (with the beautiful radio voice). Anne from across the street, our beautiful Southern Belle. The almost frighteningly bright Augestein Family next door with whom we shared so many wonderful dinners. The Kuhnes moved away in the late 90s but we're still in touch today (I am, in fact, having dinner with them tonight on my less than 24 hour stint in the area).

So here is another list. I like to make lists. Favorite places in Birmingham: the town where I grew up. I miss it.

*

1. Dairy Deluxe - Dairy Deluxe is a classic Birmingham summer hangout that goes by many unnofficial titles. Among them, the "Twirly Dip," "Double D," "DD," "14 & Woody-Deluxe" to name but a few. The same people have been running it nearly 20 years and they still right down your order with their hands on bits of paper, count your change out with their minds and make your order themselves through a teeny tiny window box on the corner of Woodward and 14 mile road. A Snickers flurry is a summer classic. Or make it extra Detroit-y by getting a sundae with Sanders hot fudge. Unbelievable.

2. Greek Islands - Ah. My “Cheers”—words cannot describe how much time I’ve spent in this Coney Island Greek Restaurant from eating there to working there, the last 15 years of my life have been formed by this place. I know every single person that buses tables, waits them, cooks the food, runs the register. I know the paintings on the walls. I know the ins and outs of the lives of the workers. I know the menu backwards, I know what is better on Tuesdays. Go. Get the Greek Islands Special Salad and start with Saganaki cheese that, when lit on fire after being smothered in brandy, the waitress with yell “OPA!” before doused the flame with a fresh lemon. Enjoy

3. Quarton Lake - Another ah. Childhood spent walking its banks; picking berries for pie in the summer to ice skating in the winter.

4. My run:
starting at my old home at 1367 Fairway Drive
down Fairway
right on Pleasant
all the way to Maple (between the Methodist and Presbyterian churches).
From there it was either
right to Arlington to see the beautiful mansions, then Lincoln and home,
or left to Cranbrook/Evergreen,
back down Fairway and home again home again… jiggety jig.

5.  Woodward Avenue - ...and just after dusk (had many a meaningful, formative conversation driving with high school chum Justin Bodary to the soundtracks of several great films). But no one can deny the beauty and majesty of The Woodward Dream Cruise, a classic car event held annually on the third Saturday of August. During the post-war era, people would "cruise" in their cars along Woodward Avenue, from drive-in to drive-in, often looking for peers or friends who were also out for a drive, and perhaps seeking an opportunity for some street racing or at least a chance to "burn rubber" (or "light 'em up") in a quick getaway from a newly green traffic light.

The WDC Event spans much of Woodward Avenue all the way from Pontiac all the way to the State Fair Grounds inside the Detroit city limits, just south of 8 Mile Road. Today, the Woodward Dream Cruise is the world’s largest one-day automotive event, drawing 1.5 million people and 40,000 classic cars each year from around the globe. You can see muscle cars, street rods, custom, collector and special interest vehicles dating across several decades. The majority of the cars on display are those that were available and prevalent during the 1950s, 60s and early 70s.

6. Birmingham 8 Cinema (which specializes in art films, and employer of the previously mentioned teenage Justin Bodary. Perhaps the main reason the cinema became so sentimental...?)

7. The drive through the Cranbrook grounds (especially in winter)

8. Mills Pharmacy - on Maple across from the First Presbyterian Church where we used to buy as much candy as possible for $1

9. Summer Evenings in the Park (every weekend there is a live concert in the park between the Public Library and the Post Office. Live music, often Motown themed, high school bake sales. Dancing. Picnics. Patriotism. Community magic.)

10. The Rouge River Walk

11. Downtown Birmingham - a treasure. Shopping that caters to everyone tastes-- everything from locally made crafts, antiques, Mom & Pop restaurants, to Anthropolgie or handmade toys; downtown Birmingham has a thriving Public Library overlooking a beautiful local park that hosts a festival of twinkly lights in the winter, massive local carnival in the spring (complete with giant ferris wheel with views of the whole town!), and live concerts in the summer. And, because it is so easy to walk to the main strip almost anywhere in town, there is nothing like watching the tweenagers congregate on the streets outside the movie theatres trying to pretend they aren't waiting for their parents to pick them up around the corner... that was once me...

*

I recently had an incident with a several people who were very negative about Detroit, spoke of it with an almost savage, desparaging, flippant dismissal; as if there was nothing of merrit to see or do, spoke as if the people there were foresaken members of a larger American society.

I beg you, reader: be kind to everyone about their hometown. Everyone is from somewhere-- even Detroit, Hull, Queens and Bagdhad! If someone tells you they are from somewhere, that they grew up somewhere, that their days were formed and shaped in a place, be respectful for no greater a reason than that. Ask how they felt about it, ask about their favorite memories, places, their views on the merits and downfalls. You may be surprised. Enlightened. You might even learn something.

And secondly, in that vain, give Metro-Detroit a chance. I know that Detroit and Michigan are going through rough times, but the truth is it is a beautiful place filled with strong, industrious, resilient people and gem-like corners awaiting any traveler patient and open-minded enough to discover them.

27

27 is a magic number.

I know, I know, for all of you familiar with School House Rock, you were under the impression that 3 is a Magic Number, but wait! 27 is not far off and extra magical--  27 is a perfect cube. Therefore, making it extra 3-ish (being 3³ = 3 × 3 × 3).

Twenty-seven is also the smallest positive integer requiring four syllables to name in English, though it can be unambiguously defined in just two: "three cubed."

There are exactly 27 straight lines on a smooth cubic surface. 27 is also a decagonal number.

Twenty-seven is also:

The total number of letters in the Hebrew alphabet (22 regular letters and 5 final consonants)

The current number of Amendments to the United States Constitution

The beginning of the Saturn Return stage of life in Astrology

Gilles Villeneuve's famous Ferrari number now adopted by his son, Formula One World Champion Jacques Villeneuve in his NASCAR debut

The modal age of the peak performance year for major league baseball position players, (according to a commonly accepted theory by sabermetrician Bill James)

If you add up all the numbers between 2 and 7, the total is 27 (= 2 + 3 + 4 + 5 + 6 + 7).

The colo(u)red balls in snooker have a total value of 27.

There are 27 books in the New Testament of the Bible.

Three-dimensional "tick-tac-toe", or, in the UK, "noughts and crosses" is played on a 3 x 3 x 3 grid giving 27 positions to place your nought or cross.

...and, the number of outs in a regulation professional baseball game for each team

The age of Yelena in Anton Chekhov's Uncle Vanya

and Anna Leonowens in the original 1944 semi-biographical novel Anna & the King of Siam (that Rodger's and Hammerstein's The King and I is based on)

The code for international direct-dial phone calls to South Africa

The 27-Club (also known as the Forever 27 Club or Club 27) is the macabre name for the group of  influential rock and blues musicians who all died at the age of 27, often under mysterious circumstances. The 27 Club consists of two related phenomena, both in the realm of popular culture. The first is a list of five famous musicians who died at age 27 -- Brian Jones, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison, and Kurt Cobain. The second is the idea that many other notable musicians have also died at the age of 27. The 27s: The Greatest Myth of Rock & Roll details the history of the phenomenon.

The name of a cigarette, Marlboro Blend No. 27

Abbé Faria's prisoner number in the book The Count of Monte Cristo

One of the anthropomorphic math symbols Lisa Simpson imagines talking to her in The Simpsons episode "Girls Just Want to Have Sums", that instead of offering the expected pun-based aphorism, rather unhelpfully only says "twenty seven"

and, possibly most importantly...
....The number of species Captain Jean-Luc Picard has made contact with in the series Star Trek: The Next Generation... (that's right... I took it there...)

*

But 27 is also the age I was escorted into yesterday.

When I started this blog (five years ago, yikes!) I was a slip of a thing. 21-year-old girl really, a student shoehorned into leading lady-dom-- and starting a new life in The Big Smoke and here I am today; Al Silber, citizen of the world.

What a five years it has been.

What a twenty-seven years it has been.

...here's to another year...just keep flowing along...

Knowledge is a suite of rooms..."

"Knowledge is a suite of rooms. Dirty rooms, un-swept as museums in the provinces. And to enter each room you must leave with the women at the door some priceless thing, which feels part of yourself and your identity so that it feels like ripping skin.

And the keepers sit in piles of discarded treasures, like the pelts of love or children's pity, and at each successive door the piles are less because few stagger such long distances, until there comes a door at which there lies a small, white rag, stained as a dishcloth, which may be sanity.

And if you think that is the end you are mistaken, it is the beginning.
And people say, ‘I know myself.’
Have you heard that?
Never.
They know the contents of one room."

                                                

 -- Howard Barker, from The Bite of the Night

I've Been...

Adjusting. Capital A.

Reading like crazy thanks to Audible.com: (Outliers, Foreskin’s Lament, When You Are Engulfed in Flames, The Partly Cloudy Patriot)

Loving Jeremy Piven with all her heart: not only does he have a J name, but he also, simply a total freakin genius.

Adventuring with Ta'u Pupu'a to see Laquita Mitchell bust out her Bess! (Masterclass reunion babayyyy...)

Getting back into her beloved running routine (as well as doing ancient early-90's Buns of Steel VHS like a flippin' pro...)

Al & Ruthie reunion slumber party? Hell yes.

Returning to London...


Singing with Lance Horne (and Leanne Jones and Paul Spicer) at Freedom Club

Watching one of my closest friends and my absolute life-saver Tasha get married. (And speaking at the wedding!) Literally the most enjoyable wedding I have ever attended.

Reeling over how much I love Victoria Jayne Hinde. She wrote me a poem. Victoria, I love you.

Recovering from Amy Maiden breaking the news to me that she hates yoghurt-covered-things. [Record scratch followed by female screaming and cataclysmic crashing sound] She felt we "we there..." Whatever...

Standing outside the Palace Theatre on my 5 year London anniversary. *Sigh.*

Pounding the pavement!

Witnessing theatrical magic. Peter Stein's beautiful, 12-hour adaptation of Dostoevsky's The Demons with an entirely Italian acting company on Governor's Island. Thank you Lincoln Center Festival. (Needless to say I was 'Possessed' by excitement.) If you ever have a chance to see this production, it is a life-altering experience. 

Literally obsessed with the Radiolab Podcast. You must check it out today…

Father's Day: A List

I received the most incredible and unexpected email today from one of my oldest, dearest friends David Fetzer.

Three things I miss about your Papa:

1. Hearing him shout "Fetzer!" either from across a room, or hallway, or on the other end of the phone, in the background.

2. His talent for singing ever-so-subtly off-key.

3. His crazy infectious perma-smile, especially in the context of watching his daughter when she performed on stage. Which I did get to witness.

Thinking of you both today.  =)

* * *

It inspired me.

- Burger flipping in home movies

- Turning up the volume full blast on the television and marching to the University of Michigan “Hail to the Victors” theme when they scored.

- Running in the rain.

- Driving to Chicago to get Jeremey Catterton for Christmas.

- Our favorite game: 20 turns (every time you get to an intersection you choose left, right or straight ahead— after 20 “turns” you find yourself someplace new and do something fun!)

- Seeing Beauty and the Beast.
- and A League of Their Own (he loved both musicals and baseball— these cinematic experiences stood out)

- Driving to Interlochen in 1998 to see the Academy and listening to the cast recording of Ragtime. Whilst stopping at the gas station the “New Music” intro began playing and Dad, in typical Dad fashion, changed the script eeeeeeeeever so slightly… in what would have become a classic family line he spoke along with Brian Stokes Mitchell “..this is called, RAGTUNE…” Ragtune? RagTUNE?! Totally straight face. Amazing.

he had a heckuva Jerry Lewis impression...

- Prom with Bill Bradley:
I was a young Freshman on my way to Prom with a senior boy who was a little too fond of me for my taste, and the three of us had talked about sort of lightening the mood when he came to pick me up. My mother and I  were absorbed in the girl stuff and so off course did not catch the fact that my father had decided it would be really a trip if he dressed up in a full tuxedo (with no shoes) and greet Bill, my date, at the door. When he opened the front door, he look at Bill and said, “Hi Bill... ya look good... Al’s not quite ready yet.... let’s go for a little drive.”
They drove around the block and talked a bit and I think after Bill got over the initial shock of how strange this was, he realized it was through humor that my date was lightening the moment.
    Of course, as Bill and I left the house, Dad had mysteriously disappeared, and as we were about to get into the car, my Dad popped out of the bushes in the tux and screamed
    “HAVE A GOOD TIME!!” Whereupon he continued to dance around barefoot as we pulled out of the driveway.


- Playing frisbee with the popular kids. It went like this:

Freshman Al: Hello, Silber residence.
Popular Senior Guy: [awkwardly] Hey Al, this is Popular Guy calling.
Freshman Al: Oh. Um, hi Popular Guy, what’s going… on?
Popular Senior Guy: Well…
Popular Junior Guy: [calling from the background] Ask him *Number 1*! He said! He said to call! He said he’d play!
Popular Guy: Eh, sorry that was *Popular Junior Guy.*
Freshman Al: I see.
Popular Senior Guy: Well, we were calling because we were just hanging in the park and wondered if...
[Al thinks momentarily “Ohmigod the popular guys want to hang with me…”]
…If your Dad wanted to play Frisbee with us?

[Pause]

Popular Junior Guy: [yelling from the background] will he come?!
Freshman Al: Let me… um… get him… one second…
Popular Senior Guy: Well, we’re actually… like down the street can we just come over?
Freshman Al: Eh, sure. I’ll get my Dad.
[Hangs up. Calls upstairs] Dad!
Dad: Yeah?
Al: The Popular Boys wanted to know if you want to… play FRISBEE with them…? Did you say you’d hang out with them? [disbelief]
Dad: …well… yeah. Can I go? I promise not to say anything embarassing. I’ll be really cool I promise!
Al: DAD! THEY ARE THE SUPER MOST POPULAR BOYS! THIS IS So…. RIDICULOUS!!
Dad: But Al I really want to play frisbee! Pleeeease?
Al: Oh God FINE.

[Doorbell rings. Al answers door…]

Al: Hey.
Popular Boys: Hey.
[Pause]
…Is your Dad home…?
Al: Yeah.
Popular Boys: …Cool…
Al: …okay…I’ll go get him…

[Al turns around and sees her Dad right beside the door looking really really cute and anxious to go and play with the boys. Like a kid.]

Oh go ahead Dad heavens sake!
Dad: Thanks Al! See ya!
Popular Boys: Later Al.

…[Al. Alone. My Dad is more popular in high school than I am… Awesome.]


- Family vacation to Mackinac Island

- Seeing Camp Tanuga

- Peeking from backstage and watching his illuminated face during his first viewing of my high school performance of She Loves Me

Songs I listen to over and over [again]: A Mixed Tape

Literally culled from my "most played" on iTunes. Everything revealed, with and without shame. 

Here it is.

My mixed tape for you.

*

One Voice 
and
Beautiful Dawn
both by The Wailin' Jennys

Three extraordinary voices, The Wailin' Jennys continue to evolve into far more than the melodious sum of their individual talents five years after blowing in on a fresh acoustic breeze from Canada's mid-western heartland. The Wailin' Jennys are a Juno Award-winning Canadian folk trio from Winnipeg, Manitoba and New York, consisting of soprano Ruth Moody, mezzo Nicky Mehta, and alto Heather Masse. All members also play instruments (acoustic guitar, electric upright bass, mandolin, banjo, accordion, bodhran, drums, harmonica, and violin). The group is featured regularly on Garrison Keillor's show A Prairie Home Companion. (By the way, one of favorite fact tidbits is that the group's name is a pun on the country singer Waylon Jennings....um, amazing...)

Video Killed The Radio Star
The Buggles
My Interlochen 2001 suite THEME SONG...

About You Now
Pop fluff and I am not ashamed! One of the best memories of a song I have— driving to Milton Keynes with “Team Blue” (The North London contingent of the Carousel cast) and playing this song over and over and over again. “…Great tune,” said Becci the driver as we pulled into Milton Keynes:  City of the Future.

So What
I love Pink and would happily be her shoe-shiner just to be near her. This is the best gettingreadyinthemorning song. The best angryrunning song. The best warmupbeforetheshow song.

The Man That Got Away
Audra. Oh Audra.

Albatross
Judy Collins.
Wildflowers is an album by Judy Collins, released in 1967. It has literally orchestrated my life (a fact I told her in person shaking slightly as I held her hands at my high school graduation). My Mom owned the original LP when she was in high school/college and I purchased the CD in 8th grade and would sit and listen and listen and listen... Albatross is my favorite song on the album partly because Collins wrote it herself and partly because the imagery is so profound and vivid: "The lady comes to the lake, dressed in lavender and leather. Looking North to the sea, she finds the weather fine..." Scene set. Cue the full orchestral string section. Enjoy. (and thanks Mom!)

Out Loud 
and
Long Island Shores
both by Mindy Smith
Mindy Smith rose to fame in 2003 when she was the first artist signed to contribute to the Dolly Parton tribute album Just Because I'm a Woman. Her contribution to the project was a cover of Parton's classic "Jolene." Dolly Parton followed by adding backing vocals to a new mix of the song, which was then featured on Smith's debut album that was released in January 2004, One Moment More which you need to go purchase right now. Her evocative, sultry folk voice sound like a gemstone, her lyrics and music are alive with genre-crossing light.

Eddie’s Balloon 
from my friend David Fetzer, and his childhood pal Patrick Fuguit's (of Almost Famous fame) awesome band Mushman. They're amazing.

Dance Me to the End of Love
Madeleine Peyroux's version is my favorite and I think Leonard Cohen should be proud. Peyroux is a Parisian busker at her best. 

Shut Up and Let Me Go
I love the Ting Tings and I don't care who knows it. Their New Wave 80s thing is kitch and delish and SHUT UP AND LET ME LOVE IT- HEY!


America
Simon and Garfunkle
On a literal level, the song expresses the idea that the search for "America" leads to New York City, as Simon's lovers travel eastward, from Michigan to Pittsburgh and then to the New Jersey Turnpike leading to New York City,  but also details in first-hand terms with non-rhyming lyrics, the metaphorical journey of two companions in search of the true meaning of America. 

Morning Glow
I think this is Stephen Schwartz's best song. The hope. The ascension. The dawning of a new era. Of a new day. "Morning Glow is here at last..." Musical theatre shaped goosebumps every time.

O Come O Come Emmanuel
As previously mentioned on this humble blog, Sufjan Stevens lifts me up, lets me soar, breaks my heart. This song is faith at it’s mostsimple, subtle and achingly beautiful. 

Let’s Misbehave
Elvis Costello's version from the De-lovely soundtrack is a stunner.



Tell Me Why
by [hangs head in  shame] thebackstreetboys
.... if you make fun of me.... basically, you are dead. This song evokes summer camp co-ed mixers like no other. This song is driving through metro Detroit in the summers of 1997-1999 in Scott Ladue's car (with Ian Brodie and Che Wentz) and getting pulled over because we were driving in far too celebratory a manner. I cannot even tell you how many incredible memories of this stupid stupid stupid song I have. My favorite in fact occurred just months ago in our nation's capital. Brian Cali and I were driving home from a night at The Kennedy Center, and the infamous tune of summery magic came on to the radio. Slowly, slowly, we began to sing it under our respective breaths. Suddenly my eyes were closed, my fists were clenched! We were both singing a little louder. Then suddenly the chorus! Ohhhh the chorus! We were singing with all our hearts. We were alternating the classic tune:

Brian: TELL ME WHY!
Al: AIN'T NOTHIN BUT A HEARTACHE!
Brian: TELL ME WHY-Y!
Al: AIN'T NOTHIN BUT A MISTAKE!
Brian: TEL ME WHY!
Al: I NEVER WANNA HEAR YOU SAY...
Brian & Al in improvised harmony: I WANT IT THA-A-AT WAY!

When it was over the car went very. quiet. We sat in the silence a moment or two stunned by what had just occurred.

"We can never talk about this to anyone. And we can never mention this again... okay...?" I mutter it under my breath starring straight ahead. "Totally..." he agrees.
And we drive on.
 
Bamboleo
Spanish bliss. Oh sí.

You & I Both
Jason Mraz I love you. Sharing a love of you with Victoria began a beautiful friendship. I'd happily have it be You and I both but whatever I'm happy to listen to your music on repeat.


Let me tell you about my boat...
I do a little “public transportation dance” to this song that is really something.

Won’t U Please be NiceSure I will Nellie McKay. You are such a delightful, gorgeous weirdo.

Villanelles
So. Gabriel Kahane is my pal. But ever since our first meeting in November of last year where we shared a disparate stage with musician David Yazbek (what a motley crew, eh?) I have fallen for his music as I have with his fine self. It is, in many ways, the closest thing to musical visual art I've ever listened to. It jumps out of the speakers and grabs your throat-- sometimes shaking, at other times caressing, and in certain moments, coaxing a lump in that self same place. It infiltrates. You hum his clean but complex melodies, his orchestrations stick with you. The lyrics haunt. Do listen. Do. Let Gabe "carry you up Second Avenue" and you'll never look back.

A Light That Never Dies
Sophie Solomon is also one of my pals and a stunning, blindingly talented and physically beautiful British violinist, songwriter and composer who fuses many different musical influences into her music.
Sophie began playing the violin at the age of two and or the first five years she played totally by ear, learning to read music at the age of seven. She is the Klezmer specialist extraordinaire which is how our paths initially crossed-- she orchestrated Fiddler on the Roof for the Sheffield Theatres Production in 2007, and we've remained friends ever since. Her album Poison Sweet Madeira is un-be-LIEVE-able.

The Book of Right-On
American harpist, pianist, and singer-songwriter from Nevada City, California, Joanna Newsome has been strongly influenced by poly-rhythms, used by West African kora players. Her harp teacher, Diana Stork, taught her the basic pattern of four beats against three, which creates an interlocking, shifting pattern that can be heard on Ys, particularly in the middle section of "Sawdust & Diamonds."

The media have sometimes labeled her as one of the most prominent members of the modern psych folk movement, although she does not acknowledge ties to any particular musical scene. Her songwriting incorporates elements of Appalachian music, avant-garde modernism, and African kora rhythms.

Favorite lyric in this song? "I killed my dinner with karate..." Um. How can you not adore something so bizarre?!

London Still
The Waifs
I couldn’t mention a song list without the eponymous song. I cannot tell you how often I get asked where the title of my blog comes from! Allow me to clear that up: why from the Australian folk band The Waifs of course. From their glorious album Up All Night.

"I took the tube over to Camden to wander around,

Bought some funky records with that old Motown sound. 

I miss you like my left arm that's been lost in a war---

Tonight I dream of home and not of London anymore..."

Reaction to that lyric:    . . .

As Soon As Possible: An Essay in praise of Carpe-ing that Diem

for Adam & Tasha, on and for, their wedding day

*

“when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with someone,

you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”
 - Nora Ephron, When Harry Met Sally

*

Have you ever seen the zany hospital dramedy called Scrubs? Hands? Anyone? Well, if you haven’t what you need to know is that a sassy Dominican nurse named Carla is engaged to the charismatic and slightly cocky surgeon Christopher Turklington.

They agree to write their own vows and read them aloud at the rehearsal dinner. But, stuck for romantic inspiration, the groom Turk leaves the writing of these vows to Carla’s brother… who has a long history of hating him. “A peace offering from Carla’s kid brother!” says Turk, and he eagerly agrees to this relationship-saving offer. Turk doesn’t bother to read through the vows until the big moment and when it arrives, he looks to Carla’s brother, smiles, and Carla’s brother nods proudly as Turk begins to read:

“I love how you get cold when it’s 71 degrees out. I love how it takes you an hour and a half to order a sandwich. I love how you get a little crinkle above your nose when you’re looking at me like I’m nuts. I love that after I spend a day with you, I can still smell your perfume on my clothes and love that you're the last person I want to speak to before I got to bed at night. I realized that when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with someone, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”

And Carla looks at him… menace in her eyes.

“You realize,” she says, terse, through gritted teeth, “that that speech is from When Harry Met Sally…?”

…Turk looks in panic and detestation at Carla’s brother who grins at him nodding a distinct bwahaha on his face.

*

Now, you're probably thinking why is this tall American girl talking about a TV show? Well I mention this because despite Turk’s foolhardy attempts at sincerity the sentiment of his stolen speech is true: we all want both certainty, and for 'the rest of our lives to start as soon as possible.' What is it, exactly, that we are waiting for?

*

I have the distinct pleasure of having known both partners in this couple both individually and as a couple for the last 5 years.

I remember every one of Adam’s early dating escapades.


I remember his bachelor loft in Zoe Rainey’s flat complete with pellet gun and hidden diving knife craftily housed beneath the bed, and thinking: how is he ever going to end up here…?

I remember meeting Adam with Tasha outside the St Martin’s Lane Starbucks and thinking what a sincerely gorgeous couple they made.

I remember walking through downtown Plymouth with Tasha to our theatre before a two-show day of Carousel and hearing the entire story of their courtship told with utter adoration and affection… no. detail. spared.

And I remember clearly the day after Adam proposed to Tasha. She reported to work, called me up to her Savoy Theatre dressing room and showed me the ring in a fit of squeals.

But most memorable, and a moment I feel so honored to have been in the presence of, was that same evening, Tasha was on for the role of Carrie, the character that sings about her engagement and upcoming marriage to “Mister Snow.” I watched as Tasha sang a song filled with being the joys of marrying the man you love, and witnessed the reality of her marriage to Adam dawn on her as she sang. It was an unbelievable moment filled with what can only be described as the unutterable. When it was over we embraced in character as Julie Jordan and Carrie Pipperidge, but Al and Tasha were weeping.

*

We’re bombasted with messages throughout our lives to Seize the Day, to live in the moment, No Day But Today, to Carpe Diem. But so often we are filled with doubts, with fears and crippling insecurities about our life choices.

All our lives we wait.
We wait and hope to find a partner who is a reflection of all that we cherish-- Love reflected in a their tiniest gestures; in their distinct, irreplaceable Selves.

Poet Carl Sandburg claims that

"Love is a little white bird
and the flight of it so fast
you can't see it
and you know it's there
only by the faint whirr of its wings
...
and you'd like to write it
but it can't be written
and you'd like to sing it
but you don't dare try
because the little white bird sings it better than you can..."

To adore a person with both our reason and our spirit.
That is, we surmise, the greatest reward in life.
Adam and Tasha have found such a love. And how wonderful to be in love’s presence, and on so momentous a day.

Love, I believe, exists at the core of everything Holy, and in moments such as these we are closer to understanding a connection to that Greatness. Love is not, in any way, a sacrifice; it is the transmission of life.
That requires no hesitation.
That is certainty.
Love such as this begs only the question “what are we waiting for?”

So.
Seize that day.
Carpe that Diem.

For it is true: when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with someone, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.

*

Small Pleasures: A List, Part 2

26.   "What About Bob?" ... ahoy.
27.    Truly helping someone in need
28.    Old fashioned photo booths
29.    Really great advice
30.    Kiiiiiiiissing… mmmmm….
31.    A great hair day with no effort. (Al + Jew frizz + Humid = a rather rare number 31...)
32.  Reunions
33.    Hot, rainy afternoons. Thunder and lighting preferable. (Dad and I used to sit on the porch and watch the rain, smell the "clean" and just be totally at peace and mesmerized by the curtains of rain coming down on our street in Michigan. Sometimes we would venture out into the rain and get soaked and Mom would let this happen for a few minutes before reminding us about being struck by lighting and all that...)
34.    The funny things kids say
35.    The novel you get lost in, and re-read over and over again throughout your life.
36.    Finding the perfect piece of clothing...on sale…boowakacha…
37.    Wash-and-fold clean laundry. IT IS MAGIC. MAGICAL I TELL YOU...
38.    Fireflies
39.    Spending a whole day at an incredible museum
40.    The cold side of the pillow
41.    Having exact change. Exact flipping change! It is like a miracle, it is a little celebration of perfection. Of exactness. It fills me with glee.
42.  A spoonful of peanut butter and or Nutella straight from the jar (and possibly frozen…)
43.    Saturday morning breakfast/brunch cooking: pancakes, fruit, bagels, Dad-made bubbelech, and good company of course. I have certain brunch companions in my life that are exceptional at the weekend brunch gathering. Example: Jane Noseworthy (a blinding Carrie Pipperidge and former Miss Nebraska doncha-know) + all things brunch = nnnnnnDelicious.
44.    Singing along to the radio and knowing all the words. Especially in the car driving along the highway.
45.    Jumping in puddles. Big ones. Fat ones.
46.    A long, leisurely catch up with an old and loving friend. Laughing, reviewing, learning, sharing, reflecting… I am starting to get to an age where I have known people for over 10 years and it is truly remarkable the kind of connections I still have with people I have loved, and who have loved me, for so long. People that remember my Dad, people that were “there for that,” who have been there in my heart if not before my eyes. (I’ve recently had a great many upon my return to New York that have filled my heart up profoundly).
47.   The smell of garlic cooking
48.    Eating with chopsticks (Chinese food optional)