Volunteering for a TDF Relaxed Performance (Autism-friendly) performance of the Radio City Music Hall Christmas Show

 

Volunteering for a TDF Relaxed Performance (Autism-friendly) performance of the Radio City Music Hall Christmas Show

On Sunday morning, November 17th, I volunteered for the TDF Relaxed Performance (Autism-friendly) performance of the Radio City Music Hall Christmas Show.  It was the very first performance offered by the Music Hall for this year's holiday season.  It commenced at 9:00 a.m., and we had to arrive at 7:30 to get prepped for volunteering!  It is always lovely to see Lisa Carling, the Director of the TDF Accessibility Program.  The Autism Friendly Performance (AFP) "creates a judgment-free environment for people with autism or other developmental or cognitive disabilities.  TDF's mission is to remove barriers to access for audiences of all backgrounds, ages, and abilities."  Isn't that a wonderful mission to work to accomplish?  

For this wonderful organization, I volunteer as often as I can.  My friend, Dr. Becca Yure, invited me to volunteer.  She's TDF's lead autism consultant.  And I'm so glad that she did.  While I've been in theatre most of my life, I can occasionally coast along in my little bubble.  That's not always bad, but I can miss many things that way.  

I have not personally known families who have autistic children.  When I was growing up, it was rarely diagnosed, and if it was, it fell under "special education."  But volunteering has opened my eyes to the lives of the people who do.  Not knowing what causes autism, I looked it up:  "Changes in certain genes or your genome increase the risk that a child will develop autism."  However, it goes on to say that "increased risk is not the same as a cause.  For example, some gene changes associated with autism can also be found in people who don't have the disorder.  Similarly, not everyone exposed to an environmental risk factor for autism will develop the disorder.  In fact, most will not."  

In volunteering, I witness people who live with varying degrees of autism.  It is also interesting to see a family come to one of the events at which I volunteer with only one of several children having the disorder.  For some families, a child having the disorder will seemingly have it to only a small degree as evidenced by the child's behavior.  Some are more highly impacted by autism.  But what is lovely about each event is that families come to see a show in a non-judgmental environment, and that is one of the loveliest things about TDF's relaxed performances (Autism-friendly).  

Sometimes, autistic children will have a difficult time for a few moments or minutes at an event.  As a volunteer, I have no idea how regular an occurrence this may be at home.  Maybe their being in an unfamiliar environment triggers an enhanced emotional response.  But then I see how the parents have learned to calm the children, and often, once the children no longer feel anxious, they're able to enjoy the show they're seeing to whatever degree they are able.  But the most important thing that I've learned from volunteering is that each child is doing his/her very best each and every moment.  And each family of an autistic child is also doing its best each and every moment.  Volunteering has taught me the grace of each and every moment of life--and helped me not take moments for granted.  It has also helped me redefine normal--as in--there is really no such thing as normal other than when normal means "what someone is used to" rather than a "state of being."  

Theater has always fascinated me because of the interactive nature of it.  It doesn't thrive in a cocoon--it needs an audience.  And how lovely to see theatrical performances become available for absolutely everyone, and that everyone can enjoy the performance in his/her own way.  Who knows what an autistic child takes away from a performance, but how thoughtful and inclusive it is that an autistic child can have the experience thanks to Lisa Carling, Dr. Becca Yure and TDF.  

ITF's Lead Autism Consultant Becca Yuré

Thursday, August 20th, 2020's walk home from midtown west to the upper west side through magical Central Park

When the weather allows, I walk home from my teaching studio at Seventh Avenue and West 54th through Central Park in NYC.  The last two days, I've been "grounding" which means I kick my shoes off upon entering the park and walk on the grassy parts of the park as far as I can until I have to put my shoes on temporarily to walk across the sidewalk or pavement.  This is one of my favorite areas of the park where the trees reach out over the park drive.  I find it so welcoming.  

So many lovely views of statues and the buildings flanking the park on all sides are to be found in Central Park .  

This venerable building is on Central Park West in the West 60s.  I love how majestic it looks as the backdrop to the green trees in Central Park.

One thing I'm blessed with is to live in an apartment with a rooftop on the 25th floor where I'm able to go at day's end for some glorious sunset shots of the sun setting over New Jersey and the Hudson River.  

Another beautiful sunset shot and God and Mother Nature paint the sky in hues more beautiful than I believe any artist has had at his/her disposal.  

This is another cool fountain flanked with buildings not far away.  

This is looking west from the Great Lawn.  Because of COVID and people having more free time, there are many enjoying the park as late as 6 p.m. because the sun's still out and beating down, warming the park lawn.  

I'm crazy for this beautiful Arboretum that I always pass on my way up to the upper west side.  I think it's absolutely magical.  It looks like it's from some delicious child's book.  Whomever designed it outdid herself/himself in bringing this beauty to light.  

Remembering A Wonderful Friend

Top of Form

Bottom ofI just returned from San Antonio, TX from the Vigil and the Funeral Service for Richard Chisenhall.  Many of you asked me to keep you in the loop, and so I am.  Both services were lovely.  At the Episcopal Church where Richard's husband attended, they brought the casket in the evening of the Vigil and it lies in state there until the funeral the following day.  They covered the casket with a beautiful brocade white cloth with what appeared to be a silver crucifix which was placed on top of the cover.  The church was filled both nights.  Probably the most lovely thing I witnessed was during the service.  After people had taken communion, they stopped by and embraced Richard's husband, Keith, and spoke to him.  That is one of the priceless things about human beings.  So many lead from their hearts, and their goodness pours out of them at times like this--and they show up to pay their respects.  I sat with Keith, Richard's husband; Kay, Richard's husband's sister; Tim, Keith's best friend, and I was there to represent Richard's family.  All of you who knew and loved him were also a part of Richard's family.  I used to be amazed at how many funeral home visitations my Dad went to in a single week's time.  But I realized that he was doing that to honor the life of that person that he had known and loved, and wanted to "show up" even in death--his presence there a testament to the affection he had for those who had passed.  And in this political charade (2016 Presidential election) that is transpiring before our very eyes, it was refreshing to see goodness, and God-like qualities in abundance.  It did this soul good to see and experience that.

I remember years ago--at the last showing of the AIDS quilt in Washington, DC, an extraordinarily moving exhibition--they had one tent where people could wait in line to read a list of names of people who had passed from AIDS.  After they read whatever page they happened upon, they could add a personal remembrance or two.  The line that day was exceedingly long to take the opportunity to read from that book of names.  I noticed a 65-75 year old woman dressed in her Sunday best.  She actually looked as though she had dressed for church that day, and maybe she had.  Maybe on this particular day--in that tent on that holy ground--this would be her "church."  She sort of didn't fit in the type of people on line, and how they were dressed.  I had gone around a large section of the quilt, and returned to find that it was almost her turn to read, so I waited to watch her and to listen to her.  She read her page, and then added something to the effect of "and my beloved grandson, Timmy."  In that moment, the pieces came together, and I couldn't help but be moved. She was one of the MANY whose children's, grandchildren's and brother's bodies had been shipped home in caskets in the 80s and early 90s.  So many of them had had no idea their sons, grandsons, siblings were gay, or, if they thought that they might be, no one in the family had discussed it.  And when their precious children's, grandchildren's, and brother's bodies arrived home, they found themselves bereft.  In most cases, there had been few goodbyes said because the illness had been kept a secret from the victims' families.  Friends had coalesced to take care of those who were ill--to become surrogate families.  But after she mentioned her grandson, I can imagine this lady read about the Quilt being shown in its entirety for the last time in a long while, and found out that one of the activities at the Quilt presentation was the chance to read a page of names of strangers who had passed from AIDS.  I imagine this little grandmother got up quietly on that Sunday morning, dressed like she would for church, and--without anyone else knowing, drove to Washington, DC, and--as a testament to her love for her grandson--had vowed to get in that line full of strangers in an environment she'd never imagined herself JUST to be able to utter her grandson's name. She came to "show up" because of her love for her grandson, and she was perfectly willing to show up for him in a sea full of strangers, but whose hearts were probably in similar places.  I thought her presence there was really the essence of how glorious humanity can be--that when we have the chance to show up for another person--for who they are, and all they've meant to us--we do.

I'm glad Richard's in a place now where his body no longer fails him. He had asked to be cremated and have his remains spread in a convent in Idaho--where a beloved friend and priest, Father John's ashes had also been spread. It was his friendship with Father John that had moved him to convert to Catholicism. May Richard find eternal rest. He was mightily loved by his partner of thirty years, Keith.

Howard Ashman was the lyricist for Little Shop Of Horrors and Beauty And The Beast, amongst other musicals.  He was an exceedingly talented lyricist.  I love two of his songs from Little Shop, but I'm most in awe of the title song of Beauty and The Beast. 

What I marvel at most about this lyric is the economy in his lyric writing, and still, immediately--and throughout the song, you know where you are and what you're talking about.  It is also slightly mystical, enchanting, timeless and essential.  Also, each phrase is five syllables, and every section of the song five phrases.  Try writing a lyric sometime using five-syllable phrases, and you'll have renewed appreciation for what he accomplished here.  He left this planet way too soon.  I can only begin to imagine the other treasures we'd have had he lived longer.  Thanks for this sublime lyric, Mr. Ashman (and for your exquisite setting of his lyric, Mr. Menken).  There is a very touching story about his passing vis-a-vis Beauty And The Beast under his Wikipedia entry.  

TALE AS OLD AS TIME,
TRUE AS IT CAN BE
BARELY EVEN FRIENDS,
THEN SOMEBODY BENDS
UNEXPECTEDLY.

JUST A LITTLE CHANGE,
SMALL, TO SAY THE LEAST. 
BOTH A LITTLE SCARED,
NEITHER ONE PREPARED,
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 

EVER JUST THE SAME.
EVER A SURPRISE.
EVER AS BEFORE,
EVER JUST AS SURE
AS THE SUN WILL RISE.

TALE AS OLD AS TIME,
TUNE AS OLD AS SONG,
BITTERSWEET AND STRANGE,
FINDING YOU CAN CHANGE,
LEARNING YOU WERE WRONG.

CERTAIN AS THE SUN
RISING IN THE EAST,
TALE AS OLD AS TIME
SONG AS OLD AS RHYME,
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST.

TALE AS OLD AS TIME,
SONG AS OLD AS RHYME,
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 

Angela Lansbury's beautiful live rendition: 
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GSi58VX9XnA

While "Send In The Clowns" is one of my personal favorite Sondheim songs, I marvel at the brilliance of the lyric writing in "Finishing The Hat" from Sunday In The Park With George. I chose this song especially for these lyrics: "And when the woman that you wanted goes, you can say to yourself, 'Well, I give what I give.' But the woman who won't wait for you knows that however you live, there's a part of you always standing by, mapping out the sky, finishing a hat."

Never have I heard the solitary call to any art (and its excellence) and the conflict it can sometimes cause in interpersonal relationships so beautifully, succinctly and poetically expressed as in this song.

Thanks, Stephen Sondheim. And thanks, Mandy Patinkin for the stunning singing and acting (and impeccable diction) of this song included here.

"Yes, she looks for me--good.
Let her look for me to tell me why she left me--
As I always knew she would.
I had thought she understood.
They have never understood,
And no reason that they should.
But if anybody could...

Finishing the hat,
How you have to finish the hat,
How you watch the rest of the world
From a window
While you finish the hat.

Mapping out a sky,
What you feel like, planning a sky.
What you feel when voices that come
Through the window
Go
Until they distance and die.
Until there's nothing but sky.

And how you're always turning back too late
From the grass or the stick
Or the dog or the light,
How the kind of woman willing to wait's
Not the kind that you want to find waiting
To return you to the night,
Dizzy from the height,
Coming from the hat,
Studying the hat,
Entering the world of the hat,
Reaching through the world of the hat
Like a window,
Back to this one from that.

Studying a face,
Stepping back to look at a face
Leaves a little space in the way like a window,
But to see--
It's the only way to see.

And when the woman that you wanted goes,
You can say to yourself, "Well, I give what I give."
But the woman who won't wait for you knows
That, however you live,
There's a part of you always standing by,
Mapping out the sky,
Finishing a hat...
Starting on a hat...
Finishing a hat...
Look, I made a hat...
Where there never was a hat."

Mandy Patinkin singing "Finishing The Hat" from "Sunday In The Park With George" 

A Convenient Disconnect

David Kato, a gay Ugandan described as "the most out" gay Ugandan and the country's leading gay rights crusader, was beaten to death on Wednesday with a hammer at his home outside Kampala. The Ugandan police have said that his death was not prompted by his campaign on behalf of homosexuals, but was a robbery. Nor did it anything to do with "a Kampala tabloid newspaper article, which ran an angry diatribe identifying 100 individuals it described as "Uganda's top homos," accompanied by a front page picture of Mr. Kato and a banner saying, "Hang Them."

It is still difficult to me to imagine, in the year 2011, that a gay person can be killed for just being open about who he/she is anywhere in the world. It certainly makes me appreciate the freedom I have in this country to be who I am. But, it continues to trouble me that American evangelicals--proclaiming to do God's work--can be either so naive as to underestimate the homophobia in Uganda (and other countries), or so reckless with regard to human life unless, of course, that life is their own. When queried about it, one of the American evangelicals, Don Schmierer, was quoted as saying "I don't feel I had anything to do with that. I don't spread hate."

Hmmmm. I don't spread hate. I guess the evangelicals were not spreading hate when, in March 2009, they traveled to Uganda to discuss what they called "the gay agenda--that whole hidden and dark agenda," and to assert that gay men often sodomized teenage boys. No, that wouldn't incite any ill feelings towards gay men in a country that is utterly family-centric. No, siree, Bob. A Zambian minister, the Rev. Kapya Kaoma, who attended the antigay meetings the American evangelicals held was quoted as saying: "They didn't know that when you speak about destroying the family to Africans, the response is a genocide. When you speak like that, you invite the wrath."

Just to be clear, homosexual acts in Uganda are illegal with punishments up to 14 years in prison. And a bill currently before the Ugandan Parliament "would impose life imprisonment for consenting adults who have gay sex, and the death penalty for people with H.I.V., for 'serial' homosexuals, and those who have sex with children younger than 18." So there already existed a hostile anti-gay atmosphere in Uganda just lying in wait of the "good news" brought by the American evangelicals.

Broadway Blessings 2011

For the past fourteen years, my friend, Retta Blaney, has produced this wonderful concert evening in early September at the beautiful Cathedral of St. John The Divine at 1047 Amsterdam Avenue at 112th Street in Manhattan. This year, it is Monday, September 12th at 7:00 p.m. Retta is an author, an avid theatre lover and a reviewer, whose blog can be found at: uponthesacredstage.blogspot.com She produces this evening to ask God to bless the upcoming Broadway season. I've been to several of her Broadway Blessings concerts, and she always has inspiring speakers, wonderful guest singers, the Broadway Blessings Choir and beautiful dancers. I've heard Frances Sternhagen and Marian Seldes speak, and J. Mark McVey sing. This year, Richard Maltby will speak, Natalie Toro will sing, and Retta asked me to write a song for the fifteenth year anniversary, which I was happy to do--and this song, I'll Carry You, will be sung by Tony Haris.

This year's concert is the day after the tenth anniversary of 9/11 here in NYC. When I was writing the song, I wanted the theme of it to be that artistic endeavors--such a part of the human spirit in nature--are oftentimes collaborations between the human spirit and the Divine spirit, and that ultimately, God carries us. It's not like it's a "magic carpet ride"--but often, the place we arrive at at journey's end is so much richer and greater than we could ever plan ourselves. For those of you who can't be there this Monday evening because you live in other places, and in honor of those who worked tirelessly on behalf of rescue and recovery of 9/11, and in loving memory of those who left this world for what I pray is a more peaceful one, and to my friend, Frank Contursi, this song is dedicated.

I'll Carry You
words and music by Phil Hall

You wonder if you'll ever find the answers
Before you even get the questions out.
You wonder what life means before you live it
But, my child, that's not what living's all about.
You worry things will always come the hard way
And that you'll have to do it all alone.
When you can't find your way
And you look up and say
"Won't somebody help me?
I don't know what to do"

That's when I'll carry you
I'll carry you
Though you think you can't make it.
I'll see you through
There's no place you can go
That I won't be there too
So let's get on with the journey.

You'll find this world needs just what you bring to it
A reaffirming gesture or a smile
And should you come across someone who's lonely
Ask them to come walk with you a while.
In all you do and say--show them what love is
You'll look around and wonder where to start
"God, how can I do
All You want me to?
What You did for Your Son,
Will You do for me too?"

That's when I'll carry you
I'll carry you
Like I carried My Son
I'll see you through
There's no place you can go
That I won't be there too
So let's get on with the journey.

When finally you lay down to sleep
And pray that the Lord your soul will keep
And should you die before you wake
You pray that the Lord, your soul will take

That's when I'll carry you
I'll carry you
When your life's work is ended
I'll see you through
There's no place you can go
That I won't be there too
But there is so much more of the journey.

Ev'ry step we've walked together
You've been something to behold
So let's get on with the journey.