Things I would tell my 17-year-old self

Before the world lost Michael Silber and I lost Dad, before Scotland,
London,
Damian,
college,
the 'glittering' West End,
Andrew Lloyd Webber,
Hodel,
Julie Jordan 
or 'Alexandra Silber'  —
     there was just Al.
Seventeen.
With everything ahead of her.

Here are things I would love to tell her now... 

1. It is all ahead of you. . .

2. You are not fat

3. Enjoy the Interlochen magic while you can.

4. The friends you have right now? Yeah. They are incredible. And you will seriously be friends with them ten years from now. You will meet in many countries, cities, in many states of life, and in a few months they will all absolutely blow your mind with loyalty and resilience no 17-or-18-year-olds should rightly possess.

5. Never stop writing to Lady Chu.

6. Frizz-ease. Buy it.

7. You're going to get many many letters from people about how much you and your entire family meant to them.

8. Someday day, A and S will apologize to you. A will pour her heart out in a bar and S will stop you in the streets of London and look you straight in the eyes with her sincerity. But K will not remember. That is okay. All of it will teach you many, many things.

9. Wear sunscreen. ALL. THE. TIME.

10. Someday, you are going to meet Sheldon Harnick. And it will be magical. And for good. Then you will meet John Kander. And Chita Rivera. And Jason Alexander. And Tyne Daly. And Terrence McNally... and they will become your friends and colleagues. You will know the moment when you have arrived. You will be right where you belong.

11. Wear anything you want. Because you can.

12. Don't allow people to pressure you into dulling your colors (or colours) to make them comfortable.

13. You are not going to believe this but you do not know everything. Also, your parents are right. About a lot of things.

14. There is life after not going to Julliard. An amazing fracking life.

15. You are going to eat an omelet in one year. You will be alone. It will be four days before you leave for Scotland in an unfamiliar diner. There will be no need to let this moment haunt you because someday you will feel the thrill of overcoming it. Someday, this omelet will represent a great victory and be the symbol of serious growth and understanding.

16. Keep writing.

17. When your Mom offers to teach you how to sew, do not blow her off.

18. He will be unbelievable—he will exceed every possible expectation of what a young man of 17 should be able to handle. More people should be like him... Al? You have three months. Just that. Three months before your beautiful, tender romance that is currently bursting and full of every joy, every pleasure of spring and of magical, hopeful youth will soon turn very, very dark and serious. But he will stay, for years. And he will hold you, and stand by you, and you will grow up together. You will give to one another and advance through this crucial time in both of your lives. Never stop feeling grateful. Never stop thanking him. Never forget how you loved him or, indeed, how he loved you. And although he is not The One, no one else could have been better right at this moment. Forgive yourself. And never forget him.

19. David and Robin? These teachers are the real thing. They will teach you how to choose your family—and though you probably won't believe this now, that lesson is even more valuable than Shakespeare or Chekhov.

20. That thing you are all working so hard to prevent? It is going to happen. Soon. Enjoy this last year. Go on a lot of walks with him, ask for more stories, remember his eyes and his smell. What seems like always and forever will very soon be gone.

21. ...and seriously. Buy Frizz-Ease.

22. Fortune favors the brave. And you are. Braver than you think.

...as we liked it...in 2001...

The day-making Nancy Opel Facebook thread

Background conversation that took place a few months ago:

Nancy Opel: Facebook is great.

Al: Yeah... I kinda love it too. It used to be such a great way for me to feel connected from London with everyone back home. Now it serves the same function the other way around. Plus, I love that you can just think of someone and instantly, for free, let them know.

Nancy: Love.

Al: Wait, question: how is it that you have like four thousand friends?

Nancy:  I friend everyone on Facebook. EV-RY-ONE. I like thinking I having more friends than anyone else on Facebook. It feels great. The only people I ignore are people who friend me from like, a remote island pictured in a canoe or something. That's where I draw the line.

Al: ...A canoe? That is your line? That's not a terribly discerning line...

Nancy: ... [pause] ...I know... It is the line I use nonetheless...

*

Facebook status:

Nancy Opel globe-trotting photo dweeb.

Comments:
Alexandra Silber:  -  I THINK YOU ROCK.
o
Nancy Opel:  -  mwah. I want to take your picture.
o
Alexandra Silber: ‎  -  1. let's! although I'm not very photogenic 2. can we do a few shots... in a canoe . . . ? 3. mwah back
o
Nancy Opel:  -- doing a few shots in a canoe sounds potentially dangerous, with or without a camera....;)
o
Alexandra Silber: ‎...but what if i made it my profile pic? (Enticing?) -- or wait! would you de-friend me?! ;)
o
Alexandra Silber: - PS) tequila shots in the canoe, then photos OF the canoe after... no danger. Oh no. Only good times. Very very good times.
o
Nancy Opel: - I took Miss Baldwin's pic that she used as her profile pic for quite some time, I'm proud to say...took it the day we left for London. And disenfriendment is an unlikely possibility...
o
Nancy Opel: - but will the canoe be ON WATER?...because it does sound like fun.
o
Alexandra Silber: - let's DO it Opel. You are on! Then we can go to Shake Shack after....
o
Nancy Opel: -  SHAKE SHAAAAAAAAAAAACK......the magic words. MY magic words.
o
Alexandra Silber: - Oh yes the canoe WILL be on the water.
o
Alexandra Silber: - PS) this thread is making my day. x
o
Nancy Opel: - Yeah, me too.

Response: Alexandra Silber likes this.

The Dying Plant

"Now the Lord is that Spirit: and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty."

Sometimes you surprise yourself.

So Comrade Baker (aka Kit) works for a very interesting company called Aperture-- a nonprofit foundation dedicated to promoting photography. (Do, click on the link and read more about them).

*

Kit invited me to Aperture's annual benefit gala last Monday at The Lighthouse at Chelsea Piers in New York (complete with silent and live auctions, scrumptious dinner and mingling with people you've never met before. By the way, I've found recently that galas are somewhat like weddings in this way, only you feel depressed about your finances rather than your love life...)
 
At table 24 was sat many a stranger, arty types with black-rimmed glasses, snappy t-shirts beneath velvet jacket and brightly colo(u)red dresses cut on super chic angles (but unlike actor events, these people ate bread). Kit was to my right, and after a long and moving discussion during the impossible-to-talk-over live auction that began with "we're going to ignore everyone and have a long and moving discussion aren't we?" and the subsequent "Uh, yes," we moved beyond; Kit mingling to the right, I to the left.

Beside me was an Aperture board member-- an beautiful older woman beautifully dressed in blue cape who began with "I've never met a chocolate sauce I didn't like!" before introducing herself "Toni-- I've always liked being a girl with boy's name." I smiled and extended my hand "I'm Al," and she smiled back.

Beside Toni was a Photographer, enjoying red wine and laughing with abandon--a true artist spirit emanated from every part of him! Eventually, we all began to speak about who we were, what we did. "I'm an actress," I admit.
"And a singer (among other things)," added Kit.
"Oh how wonderful!" the Toni chimes,
"Oh yes. I'd love to come hear you sometime-- I enjoy live music!" adds the Photographer.

Eventually, we discuss where we were originally from: Toni from Chicago, the Photographer from Los Angeles.
"But there is no city in the world like New York," Toni concluded.
"Mmm..." agreed the Photographer.
"I've only been in this city about a year," I join in, "but it's been wonderful so far. I've been in the UK for the last 8 years and grew up in Detroit."
"Oh!" cried the Photographer, "I was born in Detroit!" he leaned in closer, "but I left when I was six and have never been back. I'd like to go."
There was a polite and slightly awkward silence, as there often is when Detroit gets mentioned. People don't know what to say, what to offer, how to feel. Do they believe what they've heard? What they've seen in the media?
"I hear it is on the up!" Toni said, trying to be bright.
"Yes, I've heard that too," added the Photographer.

I think of Howard Barker's quote:

At the fall of the cities:
Why did we inhabit them?

Suddenly I was filled with a feeling-- a wave of desire to give voice to those awkward silences, to speak on behalf of a place whose roar has been reduced to a whisper, but has soul nonetheless. 

"I love Detroit..." I said simply. I didn't know how else to say it.
"She does," insisted Kit. He has heard me speak of this love so often.


"Did you know that Detroit's downtown is larger than Boston, San Francisco and Manhattan combined? And between 1945 to 1972 there was simply no better place in America to be. A place that was once this Titan of industry and culture, a place where people with nothing more than hope and basic skills could come and make a life in a free and prospering place, have a car, a home, build a life. Isn't that the American dream? A city that used it's then controversial cultural makeup as an asset to build a music industry where one did not even commercially exist before Motown changed the face of music in this country and abroad forever. I don't want to sound to melodramatic or grand, but in all truth it almost seems like Rome or Troy-- a booming Middle-American Metropolis now abandoned with decay and disregard for reasons no one can pin down. But despite every adversity, the people in that place are still some of the most industrious, warm, and spiritually generous I've ever come across. In times like these it would be understandable that people would turn inward, think to protect only themselves and their assets-- this is my family, my home, my life. But what I've found is people turning toward one another, helping one another, joining together. Thousands of young people flock there because they have the ability to start small businesses, art warehouses, buy homes, start lives. There is beauty there: a city with resilient, hardworking people. It's unspeakable. I'm so proud to be from a place like that..." I come up for air and everyone is staring at me. "It is hard to talk about..." I add.

And everyone went very quiet.

"But how could any individual help to revive a city in such distress?" asked the Photographer, quietly.

And in that moment, something suddenly came to me.  "You know," I began, "a friend of mine was recently dog-sitting in Hells Kitchen and the plant-sitter that had been asked to show up and take the plants for the fortnight forgot, and the poor plant was practically murdered right there in the front room. By the end of my friend's 10 day stay there the plant was wilted beyond repair.

'I think I'm just going to throw it away,' he said, sighing, shrugging, his heart breaking slightly, 'besides, it is bad chi to have it around...'
'I'll take it,' I said, holding up the poor little floundering plant in the light. 'I'll revive it.'

'Are you sure?' he asked, 'it looks pretty far gone. Perhaps it is just better to let it go and start again. I think I'll just get them a whole new plant.'
I don't know what made me smart at this.
I don't know why I was so moved.
I looked down at the little plant, feeling it's pain twice-- for those who had neglected it and those who didn't believe in it's ability to flourish after so profound a demise.
'Haven't you ever felt like that?' I asked him.
'Yes,' he said, eyes curious.

'Well, when you did, would you have wanted someone to give up on you?'
He lowered his deep brown eyes filled with infinite heart, and nodded with acute understanding. Then he handed me the plant, his every gesture wishing me luck...
...That is how I feel about Detroit."

The photographer stared at me a moment then, reaching across the table, he gripped my hand.

"I think I'd like to go there with you..." he said.

And he smiled through the thin veil of mist in his eyes, "and I'd like to come hear you sing," he added, squeezing my hand a little harder.

You just did, I think to myself, but merely meet his gaze and squeeze his hand in response.

What I've Been for Halloween: A List

Now. When your mom is a professional costumer and you have constant access to the world of the theatre, Halloween becomes a really serious event. Costumes do NOT just come out of a bag. They build themselves over several weeks (if not months!) and take some serious shape.

Halloween is my favorite holiday-- especially spent here in America. The leaves, the smell of autumn, the dark magical quality. . . Happy Halloween all.

*

1. A BUNNY. [pictured. you are free to marvel at my cuteness...]

2. Alice (as in, in Wonderland)

3. Mary Poppins (fortuitous rain made the classic Poppins umbrella really effective as well as functional)

4. Football player

5. An angel

6. Tweedle-Dee

7. The Red Queen

8.  Peter Pan

9. Jem (from Jem and The Holograms)— and yes, I was truly truly truly outrageous…

10. Storm (from X-men)-- arguably the most outrageous Halloween party I've ever attended. A Superheros/Super-villains party on tour in Carousel while we were in Plymouth. It ended with almost universal cast and crew despair...

11. Dorothy (great memory of going out with Dad who wanted to be thematic and asked Mom for help with a homemade Tin Man costume of foil...)

Found: Book Inscriptions

Having recently received a full-on shipment of all my belongings from my lost home in Michigan, I took several days to pour over the contents of a lifetime's worth of boxes full of old yearbooks, childhood toys, embarrassing and heart-melting photo albums, trinkets, mixed tapes, love letters and most wonderfully of all-- the books. The books from the vestiges of my entire life.

But one of the most profound discoveries what what lay inside the books-- most often on the inner cover, sometimes on the title page: the inscriptions.


Isn't it amazing how book inscriptions can really mark and capture a moment in life so profoundly? Something so seemingly innocent and off-the-cuff can become a flag-in-the-ground kind of marker post of one's life. This was given to me on my 18th birthday, one thinks. I remember the way his eyes looked when he handed this to me. He loved me once, one recalls. Or, best of all, Oh, how I had nearly forgotten that...

Below, are a few of my favo(u)rites. Important, amusing, moving, or milestones.   

What are some of your best ever inscriptions?

And one for you.

Dear Reader,
Enjoy. 
Love,
Al

*

Our Town by Thornton Wilder

"On August 17, 1999, This book was read by Alexandra 'Al' (she is a wonderful girl) to Jay (an ignorant boy) and she and it changed his life."

Illuminations by Walter Benjamin
14 May, 2010

"Dear Al, On the occasion of the lovely outing, one of my favorite essay collections. In particular 'Unpacking my Library' is one of the great love letters to books as emotionally endowed objects that I know. Love G." 

Tiger at the Gates by Jean Giradoux
March 1999

"My lovely Al,
Idolatry has always been funny to me. Idolatry in myself is the heartiest of all. This play is funny to me because I see myself in it. I see our best friends and most admired people in it. All of these make it a gem that I hope you'll value too. Giradoux. How can you go wrong? Truth. Love. Truth of not-love. All these, sparklingly present in the pages ahead. I think of you too when I read this. Thank you for the smiles and smirks you'll have turning the pages. I can see them. They make me happy. Mostly because they're shared. Celebrate love. Covet humor. Live truth. And please, enjoy this addition to your library and soul. 
Wrapped in love, 
J"

The Ballet Russes  by Vicente Garcia-Marquez
12 October, 1990

"To Alexandra with all my profound love and affection, Vincente"

"To Alexandra, Nice fifth position. 
With all my love, 
Tatiana Raboushenskya"

Honey & Salt by Carl Sandburg
June 2003

"To Alexandra, may the little white bird always fly home to you , and nestle you under its wing. Everything, B" 

Routines by Lawrence Ferlinghetti
3 July 2001

"Happy Birthday Al! Today we celebrate your 18 years of LIFE! You have given us such joy, thank you. .. Love, 'Jom' & 'Jad'"

The World Doesn't End by Charles Simic
June 2001

"To my love, In memory of a beautiful Spring morning, and a secret rendezvous by the lake. Yours, JNF"

Acting by Richard Boleslavsky
3 July 1998

"To Alex on her very important birthday July 3, 1998! Constantin Stanislavsky founded the Moscow Arts Theatre in 1898-- one of his favorite pupils was Ricahrd Boleslavsky; this man came to the U.S (with Michael Chekhov, Maria Ouspenskaya, and Stanislavsky himself) in the 1930's and the Moscow Art Theatre played a series of plays in New York. They stayed on and started 'school' to teach the Russian philosophy of acting, amount their students was Valentine Windt who became professor of theatre at University of Michigan and who taught acting classes and directed shows. Lucy Chase and I studied with him for many years. This book was one of our text books and a favorite! So we are direct philosophical descendants of Stanislavsky and Boleslavsky! And you, my dear, are following right in the line of descent.
Happy Birthday,
LC and JB Stephenson"

Ex Libris by Anne Fadiman
 2 March 2009

"To Al Silber-- the writer, from L: her common reader"

Eloise: The Complete Collection by Kay Thompson
5 May 2002

"Alexandra, my truest of lovers... Love, as described by Sophocles is like the ice held fast in the fist of a child. I will hold on to you forever, and if you melt, I can drink a case of you and still be on my feet. Always, M"

and, my most treasured inscription,


The Museum at Purgatory by Nick Bantock
May 2008

"To Alexandra. Whose talent is matched only by her warmth and hunger for truth. May you stay forever young. N"

Visible Cities: A List

Just a few...

 

"Memory's images, once they are fixed in words, are erased," Polo said. "Perhaps I am afraid of losing Venice all at once, if I speak of it. Or perhaps, speaking of other cities, I have already lost it, little by little."

 

Detroit (Birmingham)...

...Traverse City (Interlochen)...
    ...Washington DC...
        ...Sheffield...
            ...Alpena...               
  ...Glasgow...

                                 ...New York...
 

...London...

"...what he sought was always something lying ahead, and even if it was a matter of the past it was a past that changed gradually as he advanced on his journey, because the traveler's past changes according to the route he has followed: not the immediate past, that is, to which each day that goes by adds a day, but the more remote past. Arriving at each new city the traveler finds again a past of his that he did not know he had: the foreignness of what you no longer are or no longer possess lies in waiting for you in foreign, not-yet-possessed places."

                                          -- Italo Calvino

I've Been...

On Kudish's boat. With Rebecca and the Kud. Yo.

to the San Gennaro Festival + first-ever cannoli + Ferris wheel = a totally surprising, possibly life-altering delight...

Settling in

getting a randomly dark tan in about 3 freakishly warm autumn days... causing Arielle to say "my, you look awfully Basque these days!"

really feeling the warmth and generosity of my friends.

watching two of my best friends get married
...and speaking in the ceremony... the greatest honor of all. 

juggling. literally and figuratively.

committing to New York City

kicking some serious bureaucratic ass

taking photographs again

finishing the book (*girl squeal*)

celebrating Kit's birth

going to art gallery openings (my how chic of me....)

making new friends

singing. a lot.

Self-respecting. (Word.)

planning the cabaret
....and literally dying from the incredible collaborative efforts shared with my musical soul-mate Mr. Andy Einhorn on said cabaret. (Don't miss it! We are such a lovely team!)

cooking.

autumn leaf peeping in the Berkshires

oh, and riding on Kudisch's MOTORCYCLE.... another Yo.

loving my fire escape view of New York

eating a lot of breakfast for dinner

hanging paintings

reading more Russian literature than I can keep up with (thank you public library!)

MO-VING- IN!

really finding and feeling my power again

feeling that my connection to London and the West End is still strong and potent and loving and feeling so heartened by that.

going to the opening of Barbara Cook and Michael Feinstein's cabaret act (along with Judge Judy, The Fonz and Kathie Lee Gifford... fine....)

Getting well. For real. For good.

Happy 30th Anniversary to My Parents

As previously mentioned, during the bicentennial summer of 1976, my parents met on an airplane in Spain.

In one of those classic (and almost unbelievable) love stories, my parents were both on individual journeys to Europe to heal themselves-- Catherine from a not-quite-right young relationship, Michael from a painful divorce involving a very young son as well as an existential mid-life moment.

Catherine's parents lived in Barcelona and her summer with them had come to an end. In the airport, she burst into tears in her mothers' arms, having not discussed her inner turmoil all summer long. There, at exactly the age I am right now, Catherine cried while her mother held her, dried her tears and spoke the lingering words "you will never leave him unless you truly believe you can love someone else..."

At this precise moment, Michael was running through the airport. Having missed his train to Paris, he decided to cut his losses and head home early. Searching for the gate, he placing his bags down on the ground to grab his bearings-- and then he saw it: two women, a mother and daughter, one comforting the other in tears. "Beautiful" he thought. And as the flight was called, he promptly made his way through the airport once again.

But they did not meet there.

They met on the airplane after the flight from Barcelona landed in Madrid.

Michael (one of those people who got up before the plane had touched the ground), passed Catherine (one of those people who waits until everyone is off the plane so she can take her time), and stopped dead-- it was the beautiful tearful woman from the airport. He spluttered, his tongue turned to lead, unable to speak, he feebly gestured to the beautiful woman that he would like to let her out in the aisle.

"No thank you, I'm just gonna stay here until everyone is off the plane..."

He stood still, staring at the beautiful woman who was reading a book to pass the time, a sea of angry Europeans fighting to get off the plane behind him. Still unable to speak, he feebly gestured again.

Catherine, starring at the gorgeous, tanned, European-looking man repeated, "NO. THANK. YOU..." she spoke up "I AM GOING TO STAY HERE UNTIL EVERYONE IS OFF THE PLANE..."

"Oh," he spluttered, "I'm really sorry.... to have spoiled your plans..."

Michael stared, unable to believe the lameness of his response, but Catherine found this man so earnest, so charming, and his response so delightfully sweet-- she burst out laughing and did indeed get off the plane. . .

But who would've guessed that Michael and Catherine both lived in San Francisco? Or that they would spend the remainder of that journey Westward together, slowly falling in love in the airports, on the planes. . .

When they got off the plane, they went their separate ways. But Catherine immediately returned home, packed up her apartment and drove to Michael's office the next day.
"Buenos dias," she uttered to him on the phone, "are you still in love?"
"You bet."

And she moved in. That night. And that was that.

Years ago, on the anniversary of this fateful plane journey, the three of us went out to dinner and the two of them told me the "whole story"-- the bits with the fully explored emotions, the little details, the kiss just before the landing... I don't think I'll ever forget the looks on their faces as they told me the story and relived the memories. "Her voice was... like a bell," my father said, "I just couldn't stop talking to her..."And mom almost blushed, her eyes gazing up at him, smiling.

Their relationship, their friendship, their marriage inspires me everyday.

So. In honor of what would have been their 30th wedding anniversary, posts about my parents...


Love. Keeps. Going.


*

8 Years On

Happy Birthday Mom

Father's Day - a list


70th Birthday

and my recent favo(u)rite:

Men of Parts

Yeah, yeah I hear you...

...Yeah. 
Yeah. I hear you.
I hear you Nutritionist Lady. 
But look:
There are over 5 jars of Peanut Butter for any possible occasion in the cupboard and...

...

... Sorry, what was that? Be specific? 

Well there's 
toast, 
     sandwich, 
          spoon, 
               celery 
                    apple
                         and cracker. 

Some people drink, some smoke, some people go crazy with chocolate or sweets or cheese... but basically peanut butter is my thing. It is like being a wine connoisseur. I'm a peanut butter connoisseur. Self proclaimed, yes, but a devotee and expert nonetheless. 

And I'm okay with that. 


So I respect where you are coming from but it's just not going to happen...

Liarberry

Remain calm. 

As you read this please know that the story ends well. It ends with me going to a different grocery establishment altogether. It ends with me at home eating the one, the only, the superior, the very best of all jams-- raspberry jam.

So.
Don't be alarmed.
Keep calm and carry on.

*

[At rise: Al does a quick late night shop at her local Astoria grocery establishment. It is nearly closing time on a Sunday night, and Al has realized that she, as usual, does not really have any food in the house aside from pickles. This is an emergency journey to the store. There is hunger within her and the clock is ticking...]

Al: Carrots-- check. Celery-- check. Giant thing of hummus-- check...

[she continues down the aisles placing essentials in her basket. She ignores the Halloween candy. Halloween is her favorite holiday-- Halloween candy is the perfect size. She ignores the Halloween candy with a pang. She quickly decides between Ryvita or Wassa crispbread. She picks up recycled paper towels thinking "one good replaces one bad?" as she indulges in a longing glance at the artisan cheeses and keeps walking...]

Loudspeaker: Attention customers. The time is now 9:45 and this store will be closing in 15 minutes. Please bring your final purchases to the checkout. Thank you.

['OhmigodIamnotnearlyfinishedwerenotevenattheyoghurtsection' she thinks. She prioritizes; and rushes to the all important peanut butter and jam aisle. She selects her peanut butter. And then she sees it. There are rows and rows of jam. Strawberry, Blackberry, Grape, Marmalade, Apricot. There are many brands. But not a single jar of raspberry. She pauses. She takes it in. She breathes. She nearly blacks out...]

Loudspeaker: Ladies and gentleman the time is now 9:55 and this store is closing in 5 minutes. Please bring all final purchases to the checkout immediately.

[Al sees a grocery employee and practically tackles him]

Al: Excuse me! Um, you seem to be out of raspberry jam.

Grocery Employee: Right. Well, it is the end of the day. On Sunday. We'll have more tomorrow.
Al: I understand that but-- don't you have any in the back at all?
Grocery Employee: [unimpressed] I don't know.
Al: Well... would you mind checking?
Grocery Employee: ...seriously?
Al: Yes?
Grocery Employee: Look there is a jar of redberry flavor right here. And I hear it is pretty good. It is basically the same. Red berry, it is a flavor but maybe you should just get it? I mean there are only 5 minutes...

[Al is flabbergasted-- 'Redberry'?!! ExCUSE me?]

Al: Eh... no, thank you.

[She proceeds to the checkout without this 'Redberry' monstrosity and proceeds directly to a smaller all-night shop and finds exactly what she needs. Peanut butter plus raspberry jam plus Wassa crispbread = DELICIOUS... Evening complete.]

FIN

*

Forgive me but this faux "Redberry" concoction has no business being a jam. And I resent it being foist upon me. Even with 5 minutes left of the work day, even with both sugar free and alternative berry options.

Redberry is not a berry.
It is a liar berry.
A liarberry if you will.
And oh I will...
 
. . . Don't mess with my jam... just don't. . .

Sometimes all it takes is one taste.

love.

I've just returned from a magical weekend in the country. We ate. We drank around a bonfire until 2 in the morning. We Foxtrotted. We played lawn games. We partied like it was 1939. Oh yeah, and Oliver and Alex got married. Two of my oldest, my enduring, and very best friends got married to one another and it was beautiful.

You know? It is an incredible honor to speak in a wedding ceremony. I realize that sounds rather obvious but think about it-- to be the person asked to not merely articulate, but to publicly express, to speak to and on behalf of the love between two people you adore on one of the most important days of their lives? It doesn't get much more exceptional an honor than that.

I could not love Oliver Friendly and Alexandra Boule-Buckley more. Either as individuals or as a couple. I don't need a mirror when they are around so glorious is the reflection I see in their eyes. They make me feel the way we all dream of feeling appreciated and loved by the people in our lives. Living with them last Spring was like living in my own home. We ate Oliver's delicious food (he is a very clever and wonderful and successful chef donchaknow...) and Alex filled the house with music and art, and they were terribly supportive while I found my way in the world, in our Nation's Capital, not to mention to-and-from the Kennedy Center.
They treated me like family.
We are family.
This is what friendship feels like in its purest form. Its essence.
This is love.

And it was a joy to walk down the aisle on Sunday, to stand before the crowd, to speak the following words with an overflowing heart.

Today and always, I love the newly united Friendlys and consider them and their love, a total inspiration.

*

Sometimes all it takes is one taste.

If you ask me, (and, um, you are), I think on a certain level, Oliver and Alex both fell in love at first sight.
I was there.
I saw it.
We all did.
Perhaps the rest of us saw it before they would even admit it to themselves.
Call them ridiculous romantics if you want.
I have.
They don’t care.
Because they know.
They knew.


You see, I met both Oliver and Alex the summer they met one another— 1998 at Interlochen Arts Camp: where an eternal bond of friendship formed with an astonishing group of friends.

It is hard to be young and gifted. It’s lonely— and I think young artistic people treasure Interlochen because it is the kind of place where for the first time in their lives they feel more than accepted but understood.

Plus magical things happen.
Magical things like putting two plays and a musical on in four weeks and Gilbert & Sullivan operettas with casts of 150.
But mostly magical things like multi-decade friendships (that endure not only flighty teenage years, college, and the ‘real world,’ but great distances, personal triumphs, personal tragedies, and everything in between), all based on a concentrated eight weeks once shared together in the middle of the wilderness.

Oliver and Alex met that summer and I’m not quite sure you are grasping this but they are getting married… CURRENTLY. THEY ARE LITERALLY CURRENTLY GETTING MARRIED. You see what I’m saying? The place is magical.

But the guy who played Sir Joseph Porter may be a big time conductor now but I never hear from him! And his understudy? This Josh Groban character? I can’t get the guy to return a single. email. And I went to the opening weekend dance that summer with some dude who isn’t even my friend on Facebook.

The point is: sometimes it isn’t about the time or the place— it is the people, and they are meant to meet, and they are meant to love one another wherever and whenever it is right.



Right at the end of that magical summer, Alex and Oliver went to a play reading. The night began with “the two who weren’t busy” but by the end of the night they were “the two who were glued to one anothers sides.”

Walking home, at the conclusion of both a summer and an evening, they shared the first of many “tastes”— a heavenly kiss they can both still remember as if it happened yesterday. You should watch them talk about it...

They stayed in touch.
They reunited seven years later…
They shared another kiss on the streets of New York in a moment they describe as “plucked from a 50’s film”
And three months after that they were hooked.
So, after three months (okay three months and 7 years)
They realized this was far more than love.
This was it.

They saw through the layers of years
         Right back to who they had been as children.
                  Through all the things they had yet to share.

My guess is when the time came for love? They felt like friends— because they were.

Friendship better than the feel of a sweater you knit yourself, or pulling something out of the over that is perfect, or Sondheim or Comic Book Wednesday or Stumptown coffee or even Portuguese water dogs.
More familiar than all of Debussy art songs or Stargate, or correct knife holding.
Just like a favorite song or recipe, the one you instinctually start when you need everything to feel easy and taste and sound like layers of joy.


So you see, their love affair began with, and continues with, tastes:
dark and rich, full of goodness, and wonderfully sweet.
    … Sometimes so sweet that it gives you Diabetes… but it’s okay because Oliver will cook you up some steak that will bring that Glycemic Index riiiiiight back down again and it will be so delicious that you’ll be totally thrilled they grossed you out.


Alexandra.
You are one of my best friends. One of my Alexandra Sisters. You are dazzling: beautiful, resilient, brave, gifted, bright. And above all, one of the most uniquely beautiful souls that I have ever had the pleasure and honor of loving and being loved by.
I am so happy that today, you are, to quote you, “marrying your soul-mate.”

Oliver.
You are one of my best friends—one of my most enduring, capable, sensitive, brilliant and strong. My whole family has loved your guts since the moment you entered our lives. You have become a man of blinding integrity with an inspirational capacity for love.
I am so happy that today, you are, to quote you, marrying your “wish upon a star girl.”



So much joy comes from watching your friends grow into themselves, find and feel contentment, experience love. In many ways I think they inspired one another to become the amazing adults standing before us today.

That is the kind of love and partnership all marriages should be about.


… And just think, if it weren't for marriage, people would go through life thinking they had no faults at all...

Alex, Oliver: You have already made a life together, and it tastes of joy.

…Sometimes all it takes is one taste.

Feinstein's Cabaret Debut

I'm so excited to announce that I will be making my solo cabaret debut at the nightclub of New York City-- Feinstein's at Loews Regency on 18 October 2010.

As you can see, the cabaret will in many ways be a 'musicalization' of this blog-- which is why it bears the same title.

There will be stories, familiar and new.

There will be songs. Of course.
Songs familiar (to name a few: Weill, Kander, Herman,  Kern, Blumenkrantz, Horne, Bock & Harnick and Rodgers & Hammerstein... of course...)

Musical direction will be by the in-cre-dible Andy Einhorn (MD of the famed Sondheim on Sondheim at the Roundabout last season.

See you there...

Click to enlarge - [photo ©michelle & ivan hoo]