2020 Hogswatch Letter

December, 2020

Greetings, friends and family.

For all that we have collectively faced this year, my own life has been comparatively uneventful.  My house is quiet, apart from the antics of too many cats, and I have done little to change it, or myself.  

Early in 2020, the BookMobile stopped running.  I took a long hard look at the value of the van, versus the cost of repairs, and sadly let it go, replacing it with a much smaller vehicle.  Kept the license plate, though. 

Last month, I had to remove another tree from the back yard, as it was beginning to drop branches so large that I could not move them by myself.  I felt that it was only a matter of time before one of those branches hit the house, the car, or a power line.

I'm still with the railroad, although I'm changing shifts again -- from second back to third.  This is partly to accommodate my need for a social life, and partly to escape from a horribly inept manager, about whom the less said, the better.  

My health remains good, which is about the best news anyone can report these days.  Being stuck at home has done nothing at all for my emotional recovery.  Often I feel as if I am simply going through the motions.  

For a while I was making regular visits with a good friend (Hi, Jerry).  The pandemic put that on indefinite haitus, seeing that both of us fall into "at risk" categories, and I'd much rather bank on more future visits.  I look forward to becoming more social, with an expanded group of people, once such things are possible again.  For now, I only see my daughter once a week, and my son's family on very rare occasions.  The kids and grandkids are my lifeline; they keep me sane.

Speaking of which, Arthur restarted his online game.  The family games have always been a core part of our togetherness, and it has been a great comfort to gather together in the spirit of adventure again, even if it does have to be in a virtual setting because of the distance involved.  

My original plans for the year were to re-integrate myself with the theatre community.  Those plans have been postponed to next year.  For now, I've been livestreaming a weekly book reading, from a list of family favorites, over FaceBook.  I've also started volunteering at LibriVox.org, honing my narrative and editing skills.  

I am working on a writing contract, and the other party has been very patient with me.  I hope to finish that obligation in the coming year.

My complete contact information was printed on the obverse.  It is available to those who answer me my questions three without falling into the pit of despair or the bog of stench.  

There it is, my Year of Maintenance.  I wish you all a warm and happy holiday season, and a year full of joy to follow.

 John L. Payton

(PS - I'll also post last year's letter, to keep them easily available)

Foster's Imaginary Friends With Benefits (Part 2)

(Game date: 12/10/2020) 

"You've come to play as well?"

It was an anthrodrone, of course.  Child-size, and incredibly realistic.  Had to be a custom job.  Housing something alien, and dangerous, and it was just standing there, making chit-chat.

Okay.  I'll play that game.  "Nice place," I opened.  Let no one say that I can't be suave.

"Yes,"  Mistress Dawn giggled.  "I do like what you've done with it."   

So.  The Sunchild was fully aware that I'd triggered the drone attack, and was allowing it to happen, for its own purposes.  

No one was making a move yet, though they had spread out, jockeying for position.  I decided to try for a veiled threat.  "Shame about the spot on the rug," I said, indicating with my eyes exactly the place the drone was standing.

Its rejoinder was swift, and equally threatening.  "All will be cleansed, soon enough."  

Ms. Blackrose could no longer hold in her frustration.  "This is it?" she demanded, with a fair amount of disbelief.  "This is the Sunchild?"

"One of them," Katrya snapped, and then she was off.  

Foster's Imaginary Friends With Benefits

(Game date: 12/03/2020)

Aru Nepeta never did seem to fit in with this group.  He just didn't seem like the "outlaw" type.  (The same can be said of Varfana, but I haven't yet figured that one out.)  From the very first gathering at the Tenner Hut, even though he was attempting to help Ms. Doe evade capture, he did it in such a forthright way, even going so far as to give the TekKnight who drew the short straw (literally) his real name and ID.  He simply doesn't have much experience breaking the law, nor, when you get right down to it, does he seem to have that much desire to do so.  Yet, something drives him.  

I didn't discover that impetus until I started meeting with everyone, one-on-one.  Only then did he allow the full extent of his bitterness to show.

Hot Blooded

 Phase One of our long con on SimSoft and SiNet had paid off, and just in time.  We had the new anthrodrone that we'd stolen from CyberTek, but until now very little money for outfitting them.  This was a big payoff for us.  Even with putting aside 20K for anticipated legal fees for Phase Two, that still left us with 10K each, and 10K for the group projects fund.  I had passed out the credsticks, and we were all a little giddy.  The entire group was at the Sanctuary, and it was as close to a celebration as

we've ever had.  Oh, sure, I was trying to pass on some advice, such as, "This might be a good time to invest in drone armor, weapons, and clothing," but I might as well have been saying "blah, blah, blah," for all anyone heard.  I'd already done a bit of shopping, but I don't think anyone else had much time for it yet.

This was unfortunate, because in the midst of our revelry, our comms spontaneously switched to a news report.  The 'caster was saying, "...terror in the streets as these strange, glowing figures are attacking everyone in sight. Law Enforcement has been alerted, and is working to blockade the area, but it's unclear how many people may still be in danger. If you're in the affected district, we advise you to stay inside, do not open your doors, and wait for an all-clear..."

All voices hushed, and we exchanged meaningful glances.  It had been a few weeks since we had received a bona fide Peaches mission.  I guess we were overdue.  The autochef itself hadn't spoken, but, as Katrya put it, "Does it really matter?  We know."

The Body Snatchers Job (Part 3)

(game date: 11/4/2020)

I didn't wait for us to arrive at Sanctuary before loading up the datastick and scanning the schematics.  I was searching for one specific thing:  built-in security tags.  Where to find them, how to best disable them.  I wanted that done quickly; I wasn't taking the slightest chance that we could be tracked with this load.

I'll say this:  There is no way that the same engineers who scribbled passwords on stickynotes, wrote this documentation.  It had to be Hilda's work.  I found what I was looking for before we even got halfway to the Gate, and had all the tags erased soon after.  Only the docs for the juggernaut gave me the slightest bit of trouble; they seemed much more disorganized, but in the end it really was the same basic principle.

Back at Sanctuary, we took a peek at our ill-gotten gains, and I dove a little deeper into the data dump.

The Body Snatchers Job (part 2)

(Game date:  10/29/2020)

The anthrodrone stood in the far corner of the room.  Looming at about twice the height of a human, probably steel and plasmer construction, and one forearm had a plasmer rifle in place of a hand.  Obviously built for security, so we had to assume that it included motion and sound sensors.  So we froze, no one else breaching the doorway.  

Ever so slowly, Vamir crept the rest of the way across to the door in the other wall, and opened it.  

Most of us couldn't see much.  Had it not been for the video link-up we shared, we'd have seen almost nothing from our angle.  But Vamir could clearly see inside.  

It was a combination warehouse and manufacturing facility.  Several crates were stacked, grouped by color (red, yellow, and white).  A catwalk, probably for foremen, stretched above the floor.  Further south, a large group of machines lay dormant.  

And, at various points, more of the giant security drones stood sentry.  

The Body Snatchers Job

Game date: 10/22/2020

 I started having my recurring nightmare when I was very young, too small even to be groomed for a life of endless boardroom meetings and machiavellian machinations.  I am floating in an infinite space, surrounded by objects of varying size.  In some dreams, they appear to me as numbers, in others, as rocks or spheres, and sometimes they are just formless concepts, but always, always, they are motionless, or perhaps locked in a tight, slow pattern of motion.  Then, I notice the smaller objects occasionally dart from one place to another, but nothing comes of it, because they are too small to matter.  They are beneath notice, and their erratic, out-of-pattern behavior affects nothing.  Very rarely, a medium or larger one may move without consequence, but only slightly.  When one of the biggest objects attempts to break the pattern, to dart about as the smaller ones do, then the entire system comes crashing down around me.  And that is always when I wake up, frightened out of my wits.  

Once, after a particularly bad awakening, I told my mother about this nightmare.  She, being a mystical sort, told me that I must have an instinctual understanding of the world, for my dream mirrored how it works.  And she also said that I should not be afraid when they all come crashing down, because any

system so rigid is bound to end in chaos.  To prove the point, she brought some games.  One of them was made with long blocks that were nearly (but not quite) identical in shape, and stacked in a tower.  The goal was to remove blocks from somewhere in the middle of the structure and place them on top, building it ever higher.  Being a bright child, I soon realized that, eventually, the tower must fall.

And then she showed me how to build a sturdier structure, using the same blocks, with a wider base.  By putting more resources at the bottom, she said, the top did not reach as high, but was in no danger of falling.  "But it isn't the same game," I said, and she agreed.  "It all depends on what you think 'winning' is."

I got very good at these games, but never forgot the true lesson.  I still have the dream, but sometimes, I play with it before the chaos begins.  And, I keep a little pyramid model on my bedside table.  I don't have any other real memories of my mother.

Spirit in the Sky

Game date: 10/15/2020

 Today I  met two of the strangest people that I have ever encountered, and that is saying something.

We drove the vans from Mauger's compound to the loading dock of the Crystal Pilot restaurant.  This place apparently never, ever touches ground.  When they need to resupply, they hover over this dock, and cargo lifts ferry foodstuffs, and fancy napkins, and whatever, up to them.  Today, that included us and our giant bugs.

I expected that we'd be taken to a back entrance, especially fresh out of battle in the Dark as we were, but instead the platform arrived at the main entrance.  We looked at each other, shrugged, and carried our chitinous load into the lobby.  Once inside, a pretty blonde woman, sporting an asymmetrical hairstyle, introduced herself as Hilda, and greeted each of us in turn.  As she proceeded, we grew increasingly uncomfortable, because she proved to know more about us than we actually would have liked.  Oh, here, I recorded it all:

Bug Hunt

Game date: 10/8/2020

 So yes, I bought actionwear, and a plasmer rifle, neither of which saw much use.  I shall elucidate.

It was apparent from the outset that I would not be the best choice to lead a hunting expedition.  In the first place, I have never stepped foot outside the Border (if you don't count that little incident at the benefit concert).  Secondly, everything I know about antkegs comes directly from Katrya.  So my first move was to delegate this particular mission.  I indicated that Mauger or Katrya should take command, and Mauger didn't want it.  

We headed out.  And by "we" I mean everyone.  Even the minors wanted a piece of this action.  They had begged their parents for the right to carry weapons, and amazingly enough, were granted the same.  I'm not sure that would have happened in Ellie's case if they had witnessed her enthusiasm upon operating Frank's turret-mounted cannon.  

The Caffeine Connection

 Game date: 10/1/2020

Mauger asked for someone to come along for his meetup with one of his drug connections.  This was one of the low-level execs who pinged our VR site.  I guess they liked the rush.  I hope they did.  I've watched a number of that type get nervous breakdowns, and even heart attacks, at very young ages.  On nothing but stayawake pills, sometimes.  A lot of people think corplife is a breeze if you're not a wageslave.  Truth is, if you're not on the top of the ladder, all you see is ass, and if you are on top, you better watch yours.

Anyway, I suggested either Vamir or myself, because we both come from the same background as his mark, and can hopefully keep this meeting from going south.  The Hoods he met with didn't seem impressed with him, and from my reviews of the audio, I kind of come down on their side of things.  I don't quite understand where he's going with this plan of his.  The execs who are willing to give blood on behalf of their bosses are pulling down enough credits that they can easily replace whatever toys they might lose to pickpockets, so I don't personally see them overflowing with goodwill upon getting those trinkets back.  But I'm not about to quibble with Mauger over this.  It's a minor point, I don't see it doing any actual harm, and we already have bad blood between us.  At any rate, he has a drone with him that belongs to this exec.  I don't know if it was stolen at the benefit concert, or it was taken recently.  I haven't been paying close attention.

He takes Vamir, but leaves a channel open for me.  I listen in.

Won't Be Fooled Again

 Game date: 9/24/2020

The whole thing started when Vamir got wind of a possible hit job.

The mark, one Lilian Day, is a project leader at SunTek.  Word is, she's onto something big.  So big, it won't just put SunTek on the map (let's face it, they're already a big star on the map), it will let them own the whole atlas.  With whatever it is she's working on, they'll be more powerful than any other corp.  Maybe even more powerful than the government.

So the basic idea is, this would be bad.  I think we can all agree on this.  No company should have that kind of power.  The big question is, what to do about it?

What Vamir suggests is, maybe we can take this project for ourselves, make some money.  I'm not sure I even trust myself with that kind of power, let alone some of the people I hang around with.  But let's table that thought for a moment, because, let's be honest with ourselves: I'm curious.  And if we're going to take the thing, whatever it is, away from SunTek, sure, I'd like to at least see what it is.  

And let's be even more honest: we can't allow Day to reconstruct the project, either.  She'll probably have to be killed, and I tell everyone that.  It probably doesn't sit well with some of them, especially seeing how I've lectured about unnecessary death.  Hell, it doesn't sit well with me, but if I can live with it, they can too.

The First Airebor Game

 I couldn't tell this until I got my memory straight.

First off: This Bobby Bare recording is from a Shel Silverstein poem. Check the book: "Where the Sidewalk Ends."

Second: This was the first "official" adventure of Airebor.When Robin decided to start her game for real, she had an AD&D Players Handbook and Dungeon Master's Guide. No bloody 2nd, 3rd, 4th, or 5(e) edition, no Monster Manuals, and no modules. And to kick off her first "official" game (she had trial runs with close friends), she invited everyone in our regular gaming group to bring in one of their favorite characters from other games. She made up her own monsters (I recall, in particular, pillow monsters, and ambulatory pot plants, but there were many, many, others).

And she hit us with everything mentioned in this song. At the end of it, if they made it that far, the characters were transported to their new home.

Children. I Work With Children (Part 3)

 (Or, Show's Over)

Game date: 9/10/2020

Bright flashes of light outside.  Noise increasing on the rooftop.  No.  That should all be happening in here.  I ping the team, but they're already on the move -- Katrya out the rear with ER in tow, and Vamir to the roof.

What they saw...defies imagination.

Okay, maybe just mine.  I don't go outside the walls.  Obviously some of the people I now associate with have done so, frequently, but even they admitted that this was something strange.

First of all, it was big.  Like, luxury home big.  Pointed head.  Armored plates all down its backside.  And it is Ramming.  Against.  The.  Border.  Screaming its head off every time it hits, looking like the the celebration at the Club is pissing it off to no end.

As I said, some of our people have seen this kind of thing before.  Katrya even says it's on the small side for its species.

Children. I Work With Children (Part 2)

(or, EllieRocks. Hard.)

 Game date: 9/10/2020

So it seems that ER got a Peaches message, telling her that the blood drive benefit concert was going to be attacked, and advising her to drop out of it.  But she didn't want to disappoint her fans.  What's a pre-teen pop star to do?  

Well, in this case, she asks her illicit friends to step in.  Would we pretty please protect the benefit concert?

The general consensus was, sure.  As long as we get paid.

The kid coughed up a few grand to split among the group.  I did accept my share, and then promptly spent it on security cameras.  More on that later.  

I have just experienced my first group planning session, and have discovered a newfound respect for anyone capable of directing such things.  Yes, even you, Father, although grudgingly so.

Children. I Work With Children (Part 1)

(Game date: 9/10/2020)

The most important thing any group needs is funding.  Some may argue that point, until they need something.

Mauger wants to peddle drugs.  Not really my cup of tea, but if we can avoid killing anyone with it then fine, it's not like the government puts any real effort into keeping it off the streets.  All it really requires of me is an untraceable dead drop interface and some throwaway BANlink contacts.  I can do that in my sleep.  The real danger comes from the street gangs protecting their turf.

I have another idea.

Since the kid, Ryatt, helped me with the TekKnights hack, I've promised him a couple of favors, and I don't like owing anyone anything.  Can't really describe the feeling -- kind of like a security flag was sprung, but no alarms went off, but you just know they will?  So I looked into his reason for invading the TK servers.

Turns out they had a Cease & Desist letter in there, from the SiNet corp, telling Ryatt to stop giving away his own games!  

Breakfast In The Park

 Game date: 8/13/2020

I do not address this entry to my future adoring fans, eager to know every detail of my life.  

Nor do I address it to my VP Parker, burgeoning with potential consciousness.

Yet neither am I making a generic journal entry.

No, this entry is addressed to my father.  Today you would have been proud of me.  You bastard.

Data Heist

 Game date: 8/6/2020

Everything went right.  So why am I still uneasy?

I stopped off at the lair just long enough to grab a quick bite (had to tell the AutoChef to deliver it silently, the voice bugs me now) and plan my attack on TK security.  Then I threw that plan in the recycler and started over from scratch.  When I finally had something that I thought would work, I then set up some backup contingencies in case I got burned, and how badly.  

Everything I own is tied up in this flat, and now in this job.  My so-called family doesn't need any of it, and wouldn't care for it if they had it.  And the closest thing I have to a friend, I realize with some dismay, is my temporary foxkin roommate.  So be it.  

"Parker, prepare to accept contingency programming.

The Best-Laid Plans of Golden Elves, Shiny Gnomes, Foxkin and Men

Game date: 7/23/2020 and 7/30/2020

There must be some universal law about things going wrong, because the universe certainly works overtime to make sure that they do.

I have emptied my bank account to ensure that Aru cannot be traced.  I have invited him into my home to keep him safely off the streets.  And tonight all that may turn out to be for naught.

Here's what happened.

This Plan Stinks

Game date: 7/16/2020

 "Jane Doe" set up a safehouse meeting to discuss the messages that each of us received which led to the Tenner Hut debacle.  She got about as far as denying being the source of these messages when the apartment's vidscreen turned on, tuned to a news report of said debacle.  It appears that my efforts to erase the security footage did little good; they have an image of the trigger-happy individual, and they have the full info of one other person on the scene.  Not broadcasting anything about me, thankfully.  

Then, of all things, the AutoChef starts babbling about having guests over -- right about the same time as Parker warns me that we have Tek Knights closing in.  I informed the others.  Of course, the only pushback came from the shooter, and tempers became short before JD offered an escape route through the Tunnels.  All present agreed to take that.

Once down, she locked the elevator, and I opened one of the two doors leading from the basement into the Tunnels.  We didn't get far before we found our way blocked by some glowing humanoids.  I have never personally heard of any species fitting this description, but just to be safe I asked JD if they were friends of hers.  This, she disavowed, with no little measure of panic in her voice.  

Strange Things Are Afoot At The Tenner Hut

 My son runs a weekly online cyber-punk style game on Roll20.net called Æstas.  Any post with that tag is a storynote from my character, Ezekiel Kai, crossposted here for possible entertainment value.

Game date: 6/25/2020

Responded to a message from one "Jane Doe," a pseudonym to blatantly advertise itself, asking for my presence at a certain time and place with the offer of employment. As I have gone to extravagant expense to set myself up specifically to obtain clandestine employment, I cannot afford at this time to turn down the very first such offer. Still, as I have not yet advertised my services, I took certain precautions. Set up the crawler drone (Maggy) on the wall as a lookout, took a peek at the place ahead of time.

It's a simple convenience store; a hole-in-the wall really. I did see someone else doing much the same thing. So, our Jane is hiring en masse. I do hope she's not looking for a low bidder.

Quite a large troupe at the Tenner Hut tonight. Doesn't take a discerning eye to tell the casual shoppers (and casual looters) from those who are obviously expecting to see someone. Problem is, the "someone" doesn't seem to be there. Everyone who isn't looking expectantly for an unknown face, is very wrapped up in their own little worlds.

Then she stepped through the door. A single woman, nothing too extraordinary about her, save a hunted expression on her face. Every seeker's eye met hers. She seemed startled, as the crowd was too much. This confused me: Didn't the invitation come from her?

Review: The Mouse and the Motorcycle

The Mouse and the Motorcycle by Beverly Cleary
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Bedtime Reading stream: September 23, 2020 -- September 30, 2020

Of course we loved the Beverly Cleary books. However, the main reason I chose this one was in honor of the household mice I recently released into the wild. One of them was nicknamed "Runaway Ralph."

The premise of this story is that toy motorcycles run on the noise you make when you play with them.  Oh, and also that mice can talk, if only you know how to hear them.  A boy travelling with his family stop at a run-down hotel, where he meets a young mouse who dreams of the open road. 

Like most of the books I chose in the early days of this stream, this one is aimed at younger readers.  Not quite as funny as some of the Ramona books, but still a good experience.

View all my reviews

The Tail of Chik-Tika

(This story is a bit foggier, and I may have to have help fleshing it out.  Anyone who was there, please feel free to correct my memory.)

Robin invented Chik-Tika.  Hamelyn made him legend.

I'm fairly certain that the name came from the ABBA song "Chiquitita".  Robin tended to have music playing during games, or while planning games.  

Our party (and I can't remember which characters) first met Chik-Tika during an ocean adventure.  We were on a ship, and the cargo was (I shit you not) blow-up sex dolls.  Only the captain of the ship was embarrassed to admit that aloud, and used a euphemism: "floatation devices."  

Somehow, this anthropomorphic, talking raccoon found its way on board, in the middle of the voyage, and began, well, acting like a curious raccoon.  Asking questions.  Poking its nose everywhere.  Stealing.  

The Tail of Panda

I have to begin by saying that Robin turned out to be something of a power player.

When Arthur began his Roll20 campaign Ilvantar, it was mainly for our family, and he was working out the kinks in the system.  We were his playtesters.  I ran Cage (ranger-type), Anita had Rosa (heavy magic and stealth), Kyrie was Somura (stealth/diplomacy), and Robin recreated Maxwell (magic and healing -- mostly healing), one of her first D&D characters and a longtime NPC in her own game.  The kids played when they could muster the attention for it.

Maxwell...overdid things.  I won't sidetrack this story by telling about all the things he overdid, but there were a lot.  If he had the choice of setting a duration of a spell for hours or days, he chose weeks.  Or months.  Or millenia.  

I'll give you an early example.  One of our early campaigns was to rescue a village of humans from a tribe of gnoll captors.  We established a base of operations in a nearby grove of fruit trees, and Maxwell thought it would be a good idea to set up a "healing point" at our camp.  He centered it upon one of the trees, anyone in a certain radius regenerates a huge amount (it's been so long I've forgotten how much, I think 70 hp per round), and he set it to last for millenia.  He burned up all his Power doing that, and dipped into health reserves if I recall correctly -- this was before I started making detailed notes, but somebody has them and can correct me.  That tree became a key part of future events, and for all I know, it is still there, spread throughout the entire world of Ilvantar by now.  That's when we began calling Maxwell "Miracle Max."  It's also when Arthur began modifying his magic system.

Enter the Bitter Trees.

One Year

I thought that I would write about how much I have healed this past year, but in truth, I still feel very much lost and empty, especially late at night.

I thought that I would write about the events of that late night, a year ago, but every time I start thinking about them, I keep wanting to go further back, explaining how things started, and then I realize anew that I don't really know how things really started, and what I really want to do is go back and stop it all from happening.

I thought that I would write about a lot of things, but instead, I spent the past few days in the company of family, and that was the best use of my time. 

Arthur and I finally moved the large china cabinet from the hall, where it has stood since we transported it from the rock cabin just before that place was sold.  And then I spent the next hour or so feeling guilty for finally accomplishing it, just as I still do for every little thing that I finally get done, having put it off for so long. 

The holiday isn't completely ruined for me.  I can look back on the good times and smile, even if that smile is accompanied by a few tears.  And I can watch my grandchildren enjoy a few sparklers with innocent abandon. 

The sense of emptiness is far greater after the visit, than it used to be.

Bringing Back Some Light

 Tuesday night was a rough one for me.  I put some ribs in the crockpot, went searching for our Peking ribs recipe.  Never found it, but uncovered a memory that had me on the rocks for a while.  It was a letter that Robin wrote to a Teen Moms conference, telling them about all the bookcrossers that helped her gather 600 books for the teen mothers and their kids.  I don't remember the year, and the letter wasn't dated, but I can probably find it on the BookCrossing forums.  

She was always doing stuff like that.  The world is a dimmer place without her light.

After I had hold of myself again, I did the only thing I could do to bring back some of that light:  I picked someone that I barely know -- I only knew that they needed a little help, I knew that I could afford it, and I gave it.  

That's what she would have done.

What charity is

When Robin and I were first married, we were dirt poor. I'm talking, our staple diet was plain rice, harvesting dandelions from the yard for greens, and meat only when hot dogs went on sale poor. Her parents helped, quite a lot actually...but every monetary gift came with strings attached, and heaps of guilt & judgement if we didn't behave exactly as her mother believed we ought. If we managed to scrape together a couple of dollars for entertainment, say for a movie, or an hour or two at an arcade, that bit of frivolity was worth a severe dressing-down if the secret got out. Because that sort of thing was not what dirt-poor, getting charity from your parents people, ought to be doing.

Fast-forward many years, to when we had children of our own, and income enough that we can afford to help someone out now and then. And we got a taste of how it feels to dig someone out of a tight spot, then later learn that they've spent money on something that we considered frivolous. It can be irritating. "Well," one thinks, "If they can afford to do that, then why did they need our help?"

But you see, unlike my mother-in-law, we remembered some important lessons from our lean times:

* People can't work 24x7. If you don't take some time to be a family, and treat yourselves, you're headed for some serious trauma.

* We don't see everything that's going on in someone else's life.

* A gift that is not given freely, out of love, is no gift at all.

So we learned to squelch the impulse to kibbitz by adopting this simple philosophy: "We gave this thing (money, food, books, clothing, etc.) away, because we wanted to help and we thought it was the right thing to do. This thing is not ours anymore, and we have no right to say what is done with it. We will not let it bother us if something is done with it that we wouldn't approve of."

This is what charity is.

Tuck Everlasting - BLT

This month I decided it was time to take the first steps in reconnecting with the theater community.  I renewed my membership in the Theatre Arts Guild, and attended TAG night for Bellevue Little Theatre's "Tuck Everlasting - The Musical."  My emotional state seems better when I spend time with friends and family, and I need those connections.

What I didn't take into account was that I was headed out to see a show that centers primarily around the theme of what it means to be mortal. 

What struck me first as I entered the auditorium, even before I laid eyes upon the beautiful set, was the size of the audience - respectable for a TAG preview - and how I recognized nobody.  I've been away from theater for far too long, ever since I started working second shift.  I expect that to change, hopefully sooner than later.  I'm very pleased to see the community thriving, in spite of the rumors of plague circulating, and I look forward to making new friends in the near future.

Speaking of the set, I'm impressed with the minimalist design.  Patrick Ulrich has chosen not to hide the orchestra, nor shunt them off to the side.  Rather, they are seated at the rear, highlighted in cameo, with only a token separation from the foreground.  A couple of elevated platforms frame them, while also granting an extra level to serve as bridges, tree branches, and attics.  Ensemble cast carry extra set pieces in, away, and even change position during scenes, incorporating the movements well. 

Speaking of the ensemble, props to choreographer Kelsey Schwenker.  They looked like they were enjoying themselves, something that I often forget to do when I have to dance.  During one particular number ("My Most Beautiful Day"), it looked as if one woman was missing a partner, but she didn't look at all awkward, which had me questioning whether it was done that way on purpose. 

My reaction to the actors is the hardest for me to analyze, because here's where I find it difficult to separate what I'm feeling inside from what I'm seeing onstage.  I kept wanting to see more from everyone, and I'm not sure that's fair.  Or maybe it is fair, and they were doing their parts so well that it pulled such strong feelings from me, because I've been all those people.

I've been Winnie Foster, feeling fenced in at every turn and just wanting to taste some freedom.  I could hear it in Eva Cohen's voice during "Good Girl Winnie Foster."  I watched Eva reacting to everyone around her, watched Winnie's character learn and grow.  Pay attention to this girl.

I've been Winnie's mother, and her grandmother, simultaneously scared and overprotective, and rebellious of authority, wanting the kids to have some fun (my late wife would tell you that I was always more of the latter).  Both these behaviors are borne of intense love.  Sara Mattix and Rose Glock gave me that sense, it fed what I was feeling, and the fire wanted more.  I wasn't disappointed.

The hardest character to identify with, and the most fun to watch, had to be The Man in the Yellow Suit, yet I've been him too.  Patrick Wolfe showed us someone who has allowed his dreams of wealth and power to overshadow his connection with humanity.  And honestly, isn't this what we do when we spend so much of our time and energy pursuing a career that we ignore our families?  When we allow ourselves to believe that striking it rich would solve all of our problems?  Okay, sure, it would solve a lot of them, but not all.

The interplay between Constable Joe and Hugo (Jeff Klemme and Jake Parker) is deliberately light, and I think the show needs that, but in my eyes it didn't properly set up the relationship to follow, to view Hugo as comic relief.  That seems like a script problem, not the fault of anyone here.

And the Tuck family.  These people, being immortal, might seem to be the hardest to understand.  But their problems are not so very much removed from ours, because we often behave as if we will live forever.  I know I have.  Angus Tuck (Chris Ebke) spends his time lazing about, ignoring his wife.  Oh, I've been you, Angus, believing that there will always be tomorrow.  It's a tragedy of mortality that we're wrong.  Can you imagine the tragedy of being right about that?   I wanted to beat some sense into Angus.  Winnie was far gentler.

Miles (Travis Manley) has suffered loss, and never recovered.  I'm you, right now, Miles.  It's hard.  Travis made me feel that pain anew, with his anger, and I wanted to comfort him.

Jesse (Elliot Kerkhofs) is forever frozen in adolescence, for all of his years.  I'm not proud to say that this describes much of my own life.  Many of us take far too long to grow up.  By the final scene, brief as it was, he did seem to have matured a bit.  Maybe it was that very curt goodbye that did it.

The only character that I have never been, is Mae Tuck.  Jennifer Gilg portrayed a woman who looks back on a long life that has contained multitudes of sadness, and still smiles, and still sees hope.  She remembers the best days, the good times.  I aspire to this, but cannot claim it.

I won't go into detail on the final dance number.  It recaps the entire moral of the story, without words, and it utterly destroyed me.  I should have stood for the curtain call.  The cast and crew deserved it.  But I was busy blowing my nose.

Tuck Everlasting - The Musical runs weekends until March 29, at the Bellevue Little Theatre, 203 W Mission Ave, Bellevue, Nebraska.  (402) 291-1554.  Performances start at 7:30 pm on Friday and Saturday evenings and 2:00 pm on Sundays.  Admission Prices are Adults: $20.00 Seniors: $18.00 Students: $10.00

Another Death In The Family

Tonight I received word that my Aunt Kay has passed away.

I don't know any of the details.  She hasn't been well for quite some time.  The last time she posted anything on Facebook, she thought that she was talking to my father.  Still, she was a decent and loving person, and will be missed.

Kay (Katherine May Payton) moved into an apartment before I reached my teen years.  She used to let my sister and me spend alternating weekends with her.  I think, looking back, that maybe these visits were her mother's idea, so that she wouldn't be out partying with her friends all the time.  If that was the plan, it backfired badly.  Kay turned Granny's little spies into her co-conspirators by bringing whichever kid she happened to be stuck with along for the ride.  Well, that's how it worked for me, anyway.  I can't speak for my sister's experience. 

I consumed my first mixed drinks at Kay's apartment.  I also had my first experience with weekly cleaning chores.  She never treated me like a child, even though I was one, and never excluded me.  What little social skills I gained during those years, was probably thanks to her.

Kay loved life, and I'm glad she made a family for herself.  I regret ever losing touch with her.

Haiku to an empty theater seat

Luke Skywalker says:
"No one's ever really gone."
I reach for your hand.