Tag: Life

  • Spending the Night

    The kid is at the age of “Peek Sleepovers.” Such as, the success or failure of a weekend can be determined if a sleepover occurs, regardless if the sleepover is a success or not. The kid has taken part in a few “slumber birthday parties,” and a weekend away with a friend whose family has a place out of the City. I do use the term “Peek” not only because the kid is super excited about having a sleepover, but also because the kids are still at the age where they will go to bed at a relatively decent hour, so we can all get some sleep. Once they get to middle school age, then it turns into staying up all night and watching movies, and there is no guarantee that I or the wife will be able to get any rest. But, as of now, the kid is happy, and that makes everyone happy.

    There other thing that I am happy for is that the kid has no issues with spending the night and being away from us. Not all kids are like that.

    I wasn’t – I went through phases though. When I was little, I had no problem sleeping over. Then somewhere around nine, it began to bother me being away from home. Like the first few hours would be fine, then all of a sudden, a feeling of dread came over me, like I would never see my family again, or ever be happy. I know that I was feeling home sick, and that’s natural, but the feeling was so controlling and paralyzing, and the only thing I could think of was getting home. And then when I got home, I was overcome with shame, that I didn’t have the courage of strength to spend the night, and, you know, be a normal kid. When friends would invite me over to spend the night, I would come up with excuses why I couldn’t.

    Then, it just all went away. The fear, the anxiety, all of it was just gone. I remember it was 6th grade, and I was over at my friend David’s house with some other kids. We all stayed for dinner, and then his parents said if we wanted to spend the night we could. There clearly was a bit of it was peer pressure to stay over, but also, I didn’t get that sinking feeling in my stomach. I remember calling my parents to ask if I could stay, and my mother asking me over and over and over if I was sure I wanted to do this. I said that I was, and then not thinking about it again. I ran home and grabbed some clothes and a sleeping bag, and I was just excited to hang out with friends, and stay up all night.

    I think we watched “Let’s Get Harry” on Cinemax because we thought it was a dirty movie. It’s not a dirty movie, it’s just a really bad and dull movie.

  • Thoughts on Diane (Unedited)

    (This is a follow up on my post from Monday, which dealt with the passing of my dear friend and mentor, Diane Simons.)

    As this week has gone on, and I have reflected on the time that I spent with Diane, I am filled with overwhelming gratitude. For a very important five years of my life, I was guided by and witnessed the creativity, kindness, compassion, optimism and love that Diane filled her life with.

    Working for her out at Hip Pocket Theatre has defined what I view and expect when it comes to leadership in the arts. She was selfless in that regard – the theatre was the thing, and not her. She supported all of the artists that came through the doors, and never wavered in her optimism in that place. No matter what the challenge was, and we faced some pretty serious one, she had faith that we would all make it though the other side. Having spent so many hours with her, I saw her get angry enough times, but she never let that dissuade her from optimism. That and she cleaned the bathrooms before every show, which is still my yardstick when it comes to people I work for in the arts; would they clean the bathrooms in their own theatre? The answer for 90% of them is no. Diane was committed to doing whatever was needed to be done to make the show happen.

    She also taught me what it means to be an artist. How important it is to get out every idea, and see what sticks. To never limit yourself, or say that something can’t be done. She taught me to collect ideas and influences, and the importance of have a notebook, or a sketchpad near you at all times. That art is giving and sharing and encouraging creativity not only in yourself but in others. That fostering creativity begets more creativity and what you put out you will get in return. That being an artist is fun, but it’s also hard work that can be a lot of fun. I can hear her in my head, “Hell Matt, just give it a shot.”

    But what I find myself coming back to often this week was Diane and her family. Her husband and her two daughters. Oh, how she loved them. If you mentioned any of them in her presence, she would just light up. She was so proud of the women that her daughters became, and how unique and individualistic they were. She so loved being their mother, and was excited about what they did, and loved being a part of their lives. But her husband. “That man,” she’d say, and you could tell and feel how much she loved that man. She would get all giggly and flirty when he was around. Theirs’s was an epic partnership; they co-founded Hip Pocket Theatre, but they also taught theatre to thousands, and created a family of artists. They forged a community out of their love.

    And I am just heartbroken for them. They loved her so.

  • My Favorite Memory of Diane (Unedited)

    (This is a follow up on my post from Monday, which dealt with the passing of my dear friend and mentor, Diane Simons.)

    This was during the second year that I worked out at Hip Pocket theatre as their Marketing Director; which was a great title for a job that was 50% marketing work, and 50% everything else that needed to be done to keep the theatre running. It was a small one room office in a building on the property that was rather shanty looking, but also housed the bathrooms and small storage room. Stuff was everywhere, and Diane had a desk in there, along with a space for me to work, and another small desk for the guy, Adam, who was the Development Director, but like me, half of his job was development and the other half was whatever needed to be done.

    I’m pretty sure this happened during the run of “Bad Girls in the Big City” which was a show that sounds more risqué than it actually was, but it did have a very large cast of younger people in it. For that reason, after every show the cast would hang out on the property have a couple of beers and some wine. I wasn’t in this show, but with several friends in it, I would also take part in the post-show activities.

    Whatever night of the run it was, I was up in the office, closing it up. Then Diane came in, unopened bottle wine in hand, and looking a little flush, but smiling and giddy. She came in and sat down at her desk and started talking to me.

    I remember her joking with me about all the people out there, drinking and having a good time. How some things never change, theatre people are very social, and like having a good time.

    Then she shifted, and Diane became introspective and wistful. She went into this sweet melancholy story of being right out of college, and her and Johnny had gone down to Houston and got jobs at the Alley Theatre. And back then, after shows, they and friends from the theatre would go back to their place, and they would take things that would alter their thinking, and put on an album. They would turn down the lights, even light a candle, and just listen silently to the music.

    Diane stopped looking at me and just drifted off, looking to a corner of the office. I could tell she was reliving it all again. And then she smiled. She looked back at me and asked, “Do you do that? Do young people still do things like that?”

    I nodded. “Yeah, we still do that.”

    “Good.” Diane stood up, and grabbed her bottle of wine. “Have fun and don’t stay too late.” She swept out of the office, calling back to me; “See you tomorrow.”

  • The Last Time I Saw Diane (Unedited)

    (This is a follow up on my post from Monday, which dealt with the passing of my dear friend and mentor, Diane Simons.)

    I’m not 100% sure of what year it was. Somewhere between my wedding, and before my wife became pregnant with our daughter. So, that puts it between 2011 and 2013. It was in New York City, Spring or early Summer.

    Diane’s youngest daughter was performing a mime piece with another performer at P.S. 122. I’m friends with Diane’s daughter, and she tipped me off that her mother was going to be there. The wife and I had made plans to see this show, and with Diane being there, it was just a wonderful bonus. My wife had heard all about Diane, but she had never met her, so, and I won’t lie, I was excited for them to meet.

    When we arrived at the theatre, Diane, of all things, was working the “box-office” for this show. And I knew why, without anyone explaining it to me; Diane wanted to help out, and this is how she could help out. It had at least been three years, if not more, since the last time I saw her, and though she looked a little older, she still looked exactly the same. Gray hair up in a bun on the top of her head, big bifocal glasses, and the loose hippie style flowing clothing she always wore.

    Diane saw me and gave a huge smile, followed by a larger hug, ending with her holding my hand and asking me also sorts of questions. Then I introduced my wife to her, and she just about broke out in tears, hugged her, and held on to her hand as she asked her all kinds of questions to get to know my wife. It made me so happy to be ignored by Diane, as she joked and kidded and talked with my wife. We were there to see a show, so we had to leave her in the box-office and take our seats, but she asked me to not leave without saying goodbye.

    After the show, and it must have been the last performance of the piece, we got a chance to talk to Diane’s daughter, as tell her good show. Then she disappeared backstage, and Diane, me and my wife talked in the house. I have no idea what we talked about. I know it was light, and friendly, and silly, as we laughed often. All the while, Diane was holding my hand. Then she would pat my hand, but she never let go. Just held on to me, not letting me go.

    I thought I would see her again. Either through her daughter, or being that I go home to Texas just about every year, out at the theatre her and her husband ran. But, it wasn’t to be. Diane was staying to help her daughter load out, and I bet the wife and I had plans for dinner or something. I gave her a big hug, told her it was great to see her, and that I would see her again soon.

  • It’s Beginning to Feel A Lot Like Thanksgiving

    Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. I love the whole thing. From big family gatherings, to small family gatherings, to couples Thanksgiving, to friends-Thanksgiving, and any other combination you can throw together. Thanksgiving, with roots that go back to the Pilgrims and the Wampanoag, revived by Lincoln during the Civil War, and in our modern-day form of “That Day We Eat Before We Get Up Early to Shop,” this is a holiday that will continuously evolves to fit our needs.

    For me, it is the food holiday with a huge helping of all-day relaxing. In my little family, we buy new pajamas and spend all of Thanksgiving in them. We eat homemade cinnamon rolls, watch the parade, cook, snack, drink, and eat when the food is ready. There is no set time, we eat when we eat. Some years it’s early, sometimes late, but whatever the year, it is always relaxed and is what it is.

    This year, we have already bought our pajamas. The menu is planned, and we just have yet to do the final shopping. The decorations are out, and in place. The kid has a real job this year; she is putting together the charcutier board, and she is very excited. And, I am more excited about watching the Lions than the Cowboys. So, how’s that for a change.

    But, as I get older, it becomes more apparent that the Thanksgiving holiday is a limited resource in my life. I never doubt that each year I will have something, if not a great many things, to be thankful for. It’s just that I know that it will, eventually, change. Now, change isn’t always bad. Every year we have the chance to add to our family and friends, and welcome new people to our table. I try to be thankful, each year, that I have the people that I have in my life.