Intermission
a creative coffee break from writing the play

Men without hope, resigned to despair and oppression, do not make revolutions. It is when expectation replaces submission, when despair is touched with the awareness of possibility, that the forces of human desire and the passion for justice are unloosed.

Robert F. Kennedy, Berkeley, Oct 22, 1966

Hope is definitely not the same thing as optimism. It is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out.

Vaclav Havel, Disturbing the Peace, 1986

This is our moment. This is our time – to put our people back to work and open doors of opportunity for our kids; to restore prosperity and promote the cause of peace; to reclaim the American Dream and reaffirm that fundamental truth – that out of many, we are one; that while we breathe, we hope, and where we are met with cynicism, and doubt, and those who tell us that we cant, we will respond with that timeless creed that sums up the spirit of a people: Yes We Can.

Barack Obama, Grant Park, Chicago, Nov 4, 2008

Someone who knew a good story when he heard one.

I think it’s realistic to have hope. One can be a perverse idealist and say the easiest thing: ‘I despair. The world’s no good.’ That’s a perverse idealist. It’s practical to hope, because the hope is for us to survive as a human species. That’s very realistic.

Studs Terkel

As portrayed by Anna Deavere Smith:

My friend Eddie Conner believes "America’s real crack problem" is the way we contradict what we want with what we say, and as a result cut ourselves off at the, uh, knees. Okay, that’s my paraphrasing Eddie. He would never say it that way. He’d be very funny while he was saying it, too. A handful of years ago he even wrote a book called Kicking the Big BUT Syndrome. If you don’t know what a big BUT is…listen to how many times you are offered help, or advice, and you respond with "Yes, but…" Or you tell yourself, "I want ____ in my life, but the ____ won’t let me." Okay, you wouldn’t say "______" You might say, "I want to be an artist, but I can’t make a living at it." There are a myriad of more subtle ways we express our contradictions. I digress…this journal entry is about Eddie.

Except this paragraph is about me…. When I’m writing, I like to pay homage to my family in some way, and I put some gesture, personality trait, habit, secret, uh, something that is known to us. Sometimes I get in trouble for doing that. Anyway, my homage to Eddie has been to try to write this creative coffee-break journal without using the word "but." When I did a Google search on Intermission, I found I’d used the word some 41 times in the last three years. Not shabby.

Eddie calls himself a "soul intuitive coach." He teaches "new thought" principles. You know, law of attraction, Esther and Jerry Hicks and Abraham, Wayne Dyer, The Secret.  Only thing is, Eddie teaches with humor. He could be a stand-up comic. He’s my personal Mark Twain.

He has a DVD being released in May, Living the Hi-Frequency Life.  I love that title. Then, I’m all about energy, what others call vibration or frequencies. I watched his DVD last night. It’s in a workshop format…you know, Eddie doin’ a workshop for some people. It’s a great collection of his teaching tools, and the principles he uses in his life. If you want a different take on the law of attraction stuff, with some simple, practical tools, then check out Eddie’s DVD. It’s a lot of fun.

I’ve known Eddie more than ten years. I don’t have many people I consider real friends. There’s like three of ‘em, and he’s one. Yes, he’s my dear, sweet friend, and I’m so proud of him!

To quote another friend, "WOOT!"

Last year someone told me if I put up a bluebird nest box, bluebirds would nest in it. Falling for the bait, I read a lot about bluebird houses, where to position them, when to put one up, how to protect it against house sparrows and snakes, and installed one in the backyard. Then we waited. We got mealworms, hoping the wiggly things would catch the bluebirds’ attention.

Nearly every bird in Louisville has been in our backyard. ‘Cept them bluebirds.

A few days ago, a pair of Carolina Chickadees ate up the mealworms, and moved into the nest box. These are tiny, handsome birds. In just four days, they took an empty box and built a moss nest.

Uh, I suppose that’s what is meant by “busy little bird.” *ahem*

Well, I was very impressed. We’re still moving furniture around.

Two days after finishing up the nest, the first egg came. Some five to eight eggs may get laid in the nest. I’ve calculated she should be up to three by now.

The egg is that white round thing to the left. It has red-brown spots on it. (You may have noticed, my photography skills have yet to improve.)

Okay, so Project Feederwatch is over. Now, NestWatch is on.

A year ago, we landed in Louisville. A year ago, I knew nothing about Bluebird conservation, Chickadees, moss nests, or mealworms. A year ago…

From November through the end of March, we participated in Project Feederwatch, a winter-long survey of birds visiting backyard feeders. It’s an easy way to help out all those ornithological-scientifical-people track what’s happening to bird populations. Stuff like, are migrations of certain birds being disrupted (perhaps by environmental changes)? Or like, what’s up with bird flu? All we gotta do is count the birds, two days a week, for as little or as long as we want.

‘Course now all we do is watch them without purpose.

This morning, a female Hairy Woodpecker came by to feed. This is our first spotting of the Hairy. Our backyard has hosted Red-Bellied, Red-Headed, Downy Woodpeckers, and Yellow-Bellied Sapsuckers. Mostly we see a very aggressive Red-Bellied at our seed feeders. The Downys have disappeared. While they were here, they fed at the suet feeder.

I don’t keep a bird list. I don’t keep a lot of lists. In fact, I hate lists. I just enjoy the birds. They help me to pause. Pausing is good for you. A couple of weeks ago, while walking our Dog in Cherokee Park, we came across over 20 Robins standing still. They looked as if they were taking a collective moment of silence. We, and the Robins stood still for what seemed like five minutes. Maybe it was only one. It felt like five. Me watching, the Dog wondering what was so great about not being able to chase the Robins, the Robins standing still, listening I suppose for worms or something else edible.  Then in unison, the Robins started moving again, and the Dog was relieved for us to be on our way.

Sondheim lyrics cover the complexity of human emotion, saying all that needs to be said on any given subject. After listening to a Sondheim & Lapine/Wheeler/Wiedman/Goldman/orotherguywhowrotethebook musical, I often feel, “Why does anyone else write anything?”

And then,

Time Passes.

(and I pick my pen back up, see another play, enjoy another piece of music.)

Of course, you’ll guess I found the current revival of Sunday in the Park with George an extremely satisfying theatrical experience. This was the only version I’ve ever seen that showed the love between George and Dot, which made Dot’s choosing Louis ever more sad, George ever more the brilliant, tragic artist, and the “Act 2″ George’s journey, uh, ever more relevant and poignant. When contemporary George reads from his great grandmother’s book, Seurat comes alive again.

Many tears joyfully shed.

From someone who gets it…

Manuel Feliciano’s Sunday Songs

Saturday is Sondheim’s birthday.

How else to celebrate except with tickets to see the revival of

Sunday in the Park with George.

*sigh*

Can’t wait!

Because there’s more to life than Mel.

This was my morning uplift.
Mr. Paul Potts…