Welcome ... and Farewell

I have no idea what kind of listenership WCPN gets at 8 PM on a weekday - for goodness sakes, that's when they normally broadcast the Canadians. But just in case there is a large audience (or maybe I should say, an audience) for this evening's broadcast of I HATE THIS, and in case any of them check out the website and just in case anyone clicks on the "Blog" button ... hello. Thanks for listening.

It's been a good day. I actually need to get back downstairs and check the meatballs. We are making our annual birthday feast, I make spaghetti and meatballs (my favorite) and Toni makes artichokes (her favorite.) There's a cake, too, it has an otter on it. That's a surprise. I'll post a photo later, if I remember to take one. The people at Zagara's did a beautiful job.

We stopped by Cleveland Public Theatre this morning to decorate Calvin's brick, and headed to the zoo to see the otters. Zelda & Orson had a lovely time. If it weren't for Z we would probably not have gone around the main part of the zoo, it was so cold. But not too cold. She loved seeing the elephants get cleaned, and spotted a giraffe right by the window of their house, one we missed even though it was right there, the tallest one, eating from a trough. Orson just liked looking at everything, and was contentedly rosy-cheeked throughout.

Yes, I finished Doctor Who. ("Bananas are good!") I am ready for London.

photo: Happy birthday, Mr. Shreckengost!

Oh, London, yes, if you are new, we are going to England to stay with Henrik and his family for two weeks. And I have a performance of IHT while I am there. I will be posting messages from Britain, and hopefully photos. Wish me luck.

Now, it may be disorienting, if you are new to me or this story, to learn all of this after having just listened to our story. Maybe you are thinking, "Yay! Happy ending!" If so, that wasn't the point. We are very fortunate to have had two successful, subsequent pregnancies, and we are all well and happy and have incorporated Calvin and his life into ours. This is not true of everyone, and we have met so many in the past few years who have suffered in silence because of the fear most Americans have discussing death in general and child death in particular.

I have no answers. Only sympathy and, I hope, support. Toni was approached by a new acquaintance at Orson's music class last week, someone new to town ... and new to this world. They lost a child last fall, shortly before hearing IHT on the radio when it was first broadcast. She heard my wife's name, and Orson's, and well, how many pairs are there like that? She came up to Toni to say hello.

"Does it get better?" she asked. Because she really didn't know. And Toni said yes. We never forget. It's different, it's better. I need to go, it's time for dinner. Zelda wants to sing "Happy Birthday" when the cake comes out. We never used to do that, but how can we say no?



UPDATE: Zagara's Marketplace in Cleveland Heights, Ohio, my friends. They created this ridiculously awesome cake. Chocolate cake with butter cream icing - normally Toni would insist on making her own cake, but our oven has been on the fritz for over a year (can't remember what we did last year.) So Z. and I were looking at designs for a cake the other day, they were all commercial, so I just asked them to put an otter on it.

No words? They asked, no message? Who is the cake for, a child, an adult? That's when it felt weird. It's one thing to state without regret that your eldest actually has an older brother who died in the womb, it's another to have to explain you're getting him a cake. No, I said, it's a commemorative cake (wimp) - the otter will be just fine.

So the artist came out to ask about the design. Is it all right if she just looks at a picture online, what about the colors, green? Blue? Whatever looks right, I said. And today I picked up this. It's beautiful! And delicious.

Happy birthday, guy. I think a five year-old would dig this cake.

Dreading To Fly

Making preparations for our time abroad. Getting mounds of laundry done, collecting various perscriptions, trying to make sure no necessary book or toy is left behind. I have decided not to bring the iPod, I'd only have to purchase an adapter, and I'd rather listen to England, anyway.

Someone remarked that traveling with children isn't reallt traveling, it's more like moving for a short period of time. Luckily, we have a home to stay in. So at least it's not like moving into a hotel for two weeks, there will be cooking and laundry and no one to tip.

I have been folding laundry all day, and cramming Doctor Who into my skull. I should be cramming lines, but there is still plenty of time for that. Like my trip to New York, there are lines that need to be changed for a performance in London. I don't need to tell them what Hamley's is, or what it looks like. I have been resisting the urge to change various words - chips for fries, loo for bathroom - except I wonder to what extent it is more or less distracting to hear unfamiliar turns of phrase than to wonder why the American is saying "telly."

But it's not as though they haven't been watching Seinfeld and Friends, too.

I have been flying since before I can recall. My first flight was when I was maybe six months old, which had Orson beat. As I have grown bigger and my body has become more calcified - and the seats have grown smaller - I have learned to develop the same healthy distaste for air travel that my father has always had.

Sept. 11 changed things, for sure. I have more nightmares about plane crashes than I ever did, which is to say I have them at all. Not that I am like those friends of mine who have refused to fly since then, I was on a plane three weeks after the event took place. But still. It's something that troubles me.

Fortunately, there are too many other things to deal with right now. And Zelda is too excited for words. By tomorrow night we want everything ready to go, so Monday can be spent remembering Calvin. We'll get out to the zoo before lunch, I hope. Maybe it will snow, who knows. It will still be a good day.

Springtime for Calvin

Five years is a long time. It's crazy, I haven't even worked for Great Lakes Theater Festival for five years, and I barely remember what life was like before then.

Several touching and delightful tributes have come to us in the past past few days. MP sent the most beautiful, springy bouquet. The Hansens UK adopted an Asian short-clawed Otter at the Battersea Park petting zoo in our eldest's honor.

And a little after 11 PM on Tuesday, March 14 our dear friends, Harris & Liz welcomed Maximilian Calvin Falk into the world.

There's a little Calvin in all of us.

Reminder

I HATE THIS will be featured on WVIZ channel 25's Applause tomorrow night, Thursday, March 16 at 7:30 pm.

Also, the performance in London on 24 March so far has reservations for 6. So get out there and tell your friends in Battersea to get off their back ends.

THURSDAY UPDATE: We're up to 18 confirmed attendants. At eight days out, for a space with thirty to forty seats, I don't think we have anything to worry about.

Can't believe this is actually going to happen.

London, Summer '92. I think I've changed a lot since then, do you?

I have, from time to time, praised my inspirations for the play I Hate This in this blog. Sometimes other plays, or playwrights, or comic book authors, what have you.

I've been a fan of the band Everything But the Girl since 1988, because I am a weepy, sensitive guy with a thing for British easy listening ensembles. By the early 90s, however, they had gone seriously VH1, and had almost dropped below my radar. On a whim I bought Amplified Heartwhen it was released in 1994. Toni and I fell in love to that album.

It was different from what they had been producing, they'd gotten awfully sappy (see: Worldwide)and with AH they'd gotten back to some seriously cutting lyrics - wrapped in soft and delicate music. It wasn't until almost a year later Missingwas released as a disco remix and they become a club phenom.

When they came to the Odeon in Summer, 1996 to promote Walking Wounded- for their only Cleveland appearance, ever - they sold out, and we were there after the show, waiting for them to emerge for their bus. Though they were making a bee-line for it, Ben Watt was waving his hand to us to follow, saying, "Join us!" We met Tracey and Ben in the door of the bus signing autographs and accepting praise. They were sweet.

It wasn't until later that year that Ben's book Patientwas released in the US. I had no idea. He had been struck in 1992 with a bizarre, rare disease that dissolved most of his intestines. There is a big, ugly scar on his belly in the photos inside AH, but I didn't put it together. That and astounding and unhealthy looking weight loss. Again, what did I know.

It's a great, short book, about his ordeal working back from a near death experience. It's a quiet book. It's the first time I had ever had any insight into his and Tracey's relationship (for all I knew they'd worked together for years, but weren't involved. Straining to maintain your dignity, in fear, dealing with the medical community - which was we all know, is not nearly as brilliant as they pretend to be.

Knowing what he went through also put the lyrics he and she have written since into sharp relief. It also, I imagine, explains the third-life crisis that might send the late 80s light-jazz-pop dolls into the clubs, and turn Ben into an obsessed DJ.

They haven't released a studio album since 1999's Temperamental,which is irksome (the fact that they haven't released any new work is irksome, not Temperamental.) But they appear to have been busy. Serve your muse. Mind your business.

There was a time when I had toyed with adapting that into a solo perf. And sometimes it's better to tell your own stories than someone else's.

UPDATE: I was distressed that the track Love Is Strange from their 1992 release Acoustichas been approriated for a Hummer commercial. I was relieved to read their disclaimed on their website that they were never contacted about this arrangement, that they were opposed to their work being used in that way, and that there was unfortunately nothing they could do about it because though they control the rights to their own songs, it's a different story when you've covered someone else's.

More Books!

Yesterday I received a care package from SANDS (Stillbirth And Neonatal Death Society - they aren't afraid to use the word "death" in Britain) including two copies of their newsletter, and the books Living with Leo by Mario Di Clemente and Fathers Feel Too by Andrew Don. Erica S. from SANDS has been in touch, and is planning to attend the 24 March performance.

I have not finished Fathers Feel Too yet (it's not a thick book) but I will soon. I am enjoying it, if that's the appropriate word (you know what I mean) because it remains an unusual event to hear the story from the father's point of view.

It's also a bit awkward to read in places. I could best sum up my experiences with women in the past fifteen years with a book I'd call, Women Who Run With The Wolves - And The Men Who Love Them. But it makes me cringe at times how hard certain men protest their innner-feminine side, to the point of becoming what they most despise. Case in point - those "sensitive, new-age guys" who yowl in outrage that they aren't allowed to walk with the women during the annual "Take Back the Night" march.

"I am offended that I am being denied my right to show I support a woman's right to walk alone at night without the company of a man!"

Listen to yourself. You're a twit.

Likewise, there is at least one author whose grief at the loss of a child almost seems to subsume the fact that his wife is even involved.

Which, I have to admit, is an accusation that has been directed at me. One review (which otherwise praised the work) stated honestly; While Toni is referred to often and speaks occasionally, this thought-provoking play could be strengthened by a clearer representation of her voice. The father's perspective provides a "safe" viewing point, due to his biological separation from the torment at hand. But it leaves unanswered what Toni is thinking, as her body rebels against the life she so treasures.

But the book (both of these books) are written specifically for the fellahs to read. I even jumped on that bandwagon last fall when I wrote my Open Letter to the Fathers. The most important thing, I think, is that we express ourselves, no matter how we might be perceived, if only to just get our voice out there. No matter how deep. Or obtuse.

Besides, any book about stillbirth or miscarriage that describes the feelings if impending fatherhood by making reference to both Up the Junction and Springsteen's The River must totally rock.

Book Plug

I have been corresponding with Amy Abbey, author of the soon-to-be-released Journeys: Stories of Pregnancy After Loss. This book "is a collection of chapter pairs written by parents, mostly mothers, who endured a loss and coped through the insanity of a subsequent pregnancy."

Amy tells me, "The authors detail their losses, which range from first trimester miscarriage, second trimester deliveries, fullterm stillbirths, and infant death. We all grieved differently yet our pain was the same. Getting pregnant again proved challenging for many of us, obsessive for others. And coping through the next pregnancy, concurrently mourning our losses, proved to push many of us too close to the edge." Amen.

I promised her I would pass word on her new work (I look forward to reading it) in spite of its current availability only on Barnes & Noble.com - the Walmart of bookstores. It includes a foreword by Dr. Michael Berman and back cover comments by Ann Douglas, Michael Nettleton and Sherokee Ilse (who never returns my emails.)

Amy was looking forward to sending a few copies a long to the Long Island event on April 30, but unfortunately I had to inform her there won't be one. This is especially poignant as some of her subjects delivered at North Shore.

Things that make you go hmmmmm.

Anyway, I don't believe their head of OB/GYN would approve of her book.

Is it bitter in here, or is it just me?

UPDATE: It's been a difficult day, in little tiny ways. I'm not sure why, things have been building, note by note, all day. Maybe because it's March. Amy's cheerful email about the April 30 gig reminded me I'm not entirely over that yet. "No, I don't want to hear about your son." How would you feel?

A couple of things have happened in the last couple of hours to put things into better perspective. I got a package from SANDS (see the new link on the bar at the right) which I will get into soon, once I have perused the contents a bit ... and I took a moment to revisit Suzanne Pullen's story about her boy, Avery.

I hadn't watched and listened to the multimedia slideshow that went with it. It's really sweet. If you have a few minutes, please watch it yourself. What a cute little boy. (But what kind of a freak puts a poster in the imaging room that reads "Pandora's Box"?)

I regret, very much, that we didn't call anyone over to meet Calvin. Or take any pictures of him, we just have the ones they took. He deserved better. I'm sorry, boy. We didn't know.

Tempest in a Cellblock

I never get tired of stories like these:

Inmates as Actors, Transformed by Art
- NY Times, 3/10/2006

A pedophile tells us that he chooses to play Antonio because he believes that those most in need of mercy are those "who least deserve it," while a cheery cop killer is drawn to Caliban as a symbol of the savagery in the prison population. As rehearsals progress, and the men delve deeper into their characters, the line between role and self becomes blurred, and the play's themes of forgiveness and redemption unlock long-buried emotions ... (more)

Photos from last year's production of HAMLET.

Project Runway Hangover

Chloe ???!!!

Irrepressible Zest

Free, Fun & Frisky
Great Lakes Theater Festival lights up Shakespeare's Dark Lady
Cleveland Scene, March 8, 2006

"The rich language, sly humor, and pitch-perfect performances make this a half-hour that keeps you laughing and thinking from start to finish ..." (more)

Schedule of remaining performances.

Avery's Story

It was the Self-Righteous Oscars tonight! Yes, hasn't Hollywood addressed all major social taboos, years before the rest of society deals with them.

Except neonatal demise. But who wants to ruin their party, especially after they got all dressed up?

CALLING ALL ANGELS
The stillbirth of a baby is a devastating occurrence. When are we going to find out why it happens? And when will we start talking about it?
by Suzanne Pullen, San Francisco Chronicle
Sunday, March 5, 2006

Thanks to Lorem for the tip (just in case you missed her comment.) It's a big, thorough story, about the author's son, Avery, born still at 24 weeks.

Update on the Long Island thing: Thanks for the powerful statements, people. I actually drafted a letter, defending my work - not just the play, but the whole idea of coping with (rather than supressing) grief, a point which appeared lost on this doctor.

Of course, it sucks having to defend yourself, it makes you sound defensive. Luckily, I have supporters in the community here, and one of them contacted the doctor in question. It was a great letter, it honored me and the work I have done, and I wish I was at liberty to share it.

The response my champion received was respectful (to them) and short, acknowledging their standing in the OB/GYN community, and thanking them for the time they took to write.

I still hate this.

The Dark Lady

The Dark Lady of the Sonnets by G.B. Shaw, presented by Great Lakes Theater Festival.

Free theater, 8pm tonight at The Alcazar, at the corner of Cedar Road and Derbyshire in Cleveland Heights.

Next performance: Sunday, March 5 at 2pm at Claugue Playhouse, 1371 Clague Road in Westlake.

By the way, it is a silly, silly, silly little play. And only 35 minutes long. Did I mention it's free?

Coming to a school or library near you. Complete performance schedule.

Good-bye, Long Island

My gig at the North Shore University Hospital has been cancelled. The head of OB/GYN (who has little interest in or sympathy for the bereavement support program at NSUH) decided the event needed his approval an demanded to see the script.

I was a fool, and sent it him. He found it threatening, that it lays all blame for my son's death squarely at the medical team's feet.

I have a lot more to say about this, of course ... but I need to calm down and think it over a bit.

Hard Labor

Prisons Often Shackle Pregnant Inmates in Labor
- NY Times

Are you f*cking kidding me? I give up, what country is this?

Applause, applause.

Recorded my interview with Dee Perry for WVIZ's arts and entertainment program Applause this afternoon.

I have been making appearances on WCPN's Around Noon since 1998. Radio was already something I'd gotten very comfortable with, I fiddled with it in college, Guerrilla Theater Co. did a radio show on WRUW ten years ago. I used to get nervous coming in for an interview with Dee but with practice, my familiarity with her, it's just no freaky thing now.

But TV is just weird. I gave myself a tension headache earlier today just thinking about it. Frtunately, so much of producing television is this tedious standing around and waiting, any potential nerves just evaporated.

It helps when the situation is new to everyone around you, too. Both WVIZ and WCPN have only just recently moved into the Idea Center on Euclid Avenue. I believe they have taped some segments for Applause in the new studio - which is located right on Euclid, you can see the studio from the street - but the part of the show where I perform scenes from I Hate This was the first time they tried to shoot something using the window as a backdrop.

They were messing with filters, which glare screen to use ... I didn't get to see the final take, but apparently everyone was pleased with it.

Usually I do a scene with Lydia in it if I need to pick something out of context. But they aren't very active scenes, and this is television, so I did the Nurse Angel scene, where I get to run all over the bed. We did a few takes, I managed to fark up a word or two in each take, but I think they got something good. I hope so.

The interview was unnerving as well. I knew I'd have to be concise, that it would be a shorter interview than I was used to. I mentioned how the mission of the show was to get people to open up, and to discuss this dark part of life. I think I said there were more people who'd experienced neonatal death than you might think.

After the taping, the producer and one other member of the production team came up to share their stories with me. One was a survivor of another kind, a cancer survivor, but also told me how their mother had lost a girl, and she wasn't allowed to see her. The other was the parent to a boy he lost nineteen years ago.

And you know, sometimes I get stuck as to exactly what to say. "Nineteen ... wow," was probably how I started. But we kept talking for some time.

Of course, when I was asked about the sgnificance of March 20th as the broadcast date (they knew - it was a set-up) I am not sure what I said, but I might as well have said, "Five. Wow." That would have been enough.

Applause broadcast dates: Thu. March 16 @ 7:30p, Sat. March 18 @ 6:30p & Sun. Mar. 19 @ 1:00p

Sweeping Up at Grebe's

Summer 1983 Playlist
01. Our House - Madness Madness
02. Why Me? - Planet P Project Planet P Project
03. Wishing (If I Had A Photograph Of You) - A Flock Of Seagulls Listen
04. Europa And The Pirate Twins - Thomas Dolby The Golden Age of Wireless
05. The Electric Co. - U2 Under a Blood Red Sky
06. Legal Tender - The B-52's Whammy!
07. I'm Still Standing - Elton John Too Low For Zero
08. (Keep Feeling) Fascination - Human League The Very Best of the Human League
09. Safety Dance - Men Without Hats Greatest Hats
10. Da Da Da (Ich Lieb Dich Nicht) - Trio Da Da Da
11. Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This) - Eurythmics Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This)
12. The Fanatic - Felony The Fanatic
13. Favourite Shirts (Boy Meets Girl) - Haircut 100 Pelican West
14. Oblivious - Aztec Camera High Land, Hard Rain
15. Whenever You're on My Mind - Marshall Crenshaw Field Day
16. Steppin' Out - Joe Jackson Night and Day
17. Overkill - Men At Work Cargo
18. Time (Clock of the Heart) - Culture Club Kissing to Be Clever
19. Mad World - Tears For Fears The Hurting
20. King of Pain - The Police Synchronicity
21. Is There Something I Should Know? - Duran Duran Greatest

When We Got Our MTV in Bay Village (May, 1983) I was completing my freshman year in high school. It was as if someone opened the sluice valve and 100% Euro-Trash started gushing into my blonde shag living room. The early 80s were fun. You could put gel in your hair, wear bright pink and make-up and still say proudly, "I'm not a fag."

Except I didn't do any of those things. At least not right away. But my imagination was fueled by all of the haircuts, the accents, the fashion, the whole not here-ness of the whole thing. It was not rock, and by that time, in that place, I had had it with rock music. Synthesizers, androgyny, dancing, it all meant the future.

It also meant sex.

I was trapped in suburbia that summer. Henrik was already living in London (at least, he was right at that time) and Denny had recently returned from spending time in Germany with an exchange program.

When Toni thinks of the best time she could ever have gone to London, it is, of course, 1977. Irony of ironies, I was actually there then, briefly, but as an eight year-old I wasn't exactly taking the time to indulge in the Summer of Punk. In fact, most of the time was spent driving around the countryside, seeing castles and very large rocks.

When I think of Britain, I can't help thinking of the London of the early 80s. Horns! Congas! Faux-Ska! The Beat! Haircut 100! White guys and black guys, in the same band! It's disco - but it's not! Bands with exotic, non-ironic names like Aztec Camera and Flock of Seagulls! I see you crying and I want to kill your friends ... So innocent. So adult.

And in the summer of 1983, what did I do with all that pent-up frustration? Unleash it on my girlfriend of course, which is amusing, seeing as I didn't have the slightest idea what I was doing. ("At one stage - she even took her bra off." - Rik, "The Young Ones")

Out of the blue she decided to contact me last week and we've been playing nostalgia-tag via email. Hence the 1983 playlist.

But no, the summer of 1983 wasn't when I became cool. It was when I decided to become cool. Actually getting there took another fifteen years.

And ended the day I started keeping a blog, of course.

We are all getting pretty excited about the London trip. I should say Zelda and I are getting excited, Orson has no clue and Toni can't get past the thought of hanging onto a ten month-old in and out of three airports and ten hours on a plane. Everyone gives us the same advice; Benadryl. I love it - we mock our ancestors for being ignorant of what was in all those patent medicines, namely cocaine or alcohol, and yet here was are intentionally drugging our children in order to get them to calm the hell down.

It's our first Post-9/11 transatlantic trip, which I try not to think about. I also try not think about the Underground. This is me, not thinking about it.

Our first trip to London together was in 1997. Mmmm-Bop was the number one single in Britain at the time (can't remember the name of the band) and there were double-decker buses and Princess Diana was still alive. But they didn't have the Eye, and whatever anyone else says about its presence in the London skyline, Zelda can't wait to ride on it.

Our 2001 trip to London was not, actually, a horrible time. There were just horrible times in it. Father's Day at the Otter & Owl Conservatory was very nice. Having Denny there was also really great. And I did get to see Blue/Orange with the original cast.

It will be highly bizarre to move back into that big, sunny room on the third floor. Lying awake in shock and doubt after completing The Sparrow, napping whenever, crying often. And now it will be filled with kids. Five years.

Henrik & Brenda sent us the DVD for the first season of the new Dr. Who to bring us up to speed - on London, not just the Doctor. The first five minutes is all the 21st Century City.

Except for the the busses.

Up the Junction

New performance date:
I HATE THIS
Presented by the Wandsworth Bereavement Service

Friday 24 March at 7.30pm

St Vincent de Paul
36 Altenburg Gardens, London UK

It's about a mile from my brother's place in Battersea. Special thanks to Claire B. at the WBS for taking a chance on this show, and to Henrik who promised to do whatever he could to make a performance happen while we're all in Britain.

It's a great date - I get two days to recover from jetlag, and then the rest of the vacation to think about other things.

Details as they develop.

Free Shakespeare ...

... with every $25 purchase.

Coming this spring, the Great Lakes Theater Festival 2006 Surround Program: Three-Fold Love which includes 20 free performances of G.B. Shaw's The Dark Lady of the Sonnets featuring yours truly as (wait for it) William Shakespeare.

Also, Great Lakes just posted the 2006-2007 Season. It's a little funny.

Conference website

Thanks to Todd H. for all his work putting up the I Hate This page at the Nat'l Perinatal Bereavement Conference website.

Also, take a look at the presenters. There's an impressive variety of presentation topics, any one of them in particular anyone wants to urge us to attend?

Jack

Okay, that last comment was not rhetorical. Not at all. I didn't think it was odd when there was a large amount of old furniture and other household items on the curb next door two Fridays ago. When there was an even larger amount of stuff heaped up on the curb last Friday, I started wondering what was going on.

As people kept coming and going, it was beconing more and more apparent that something was wrong, and then our postman asked if Ben (who everyone called Jack) was dead. That's what you conclude when mail begins to be delivered "To the estate of" people, and not to the people themselves.

My first real interaction with Jack was shortly after I moved in, back in 1993. It was on Halloween, and all the kids who went over the my neighbor's house would let out a terrified shriek shortly after stepping up to the door. After a while, I had to find out myself what was going on.

The light was on over the door, with candy set out in a dish next to a large, ghoulish mannequin. There were other decorations in and around the bushes next to the door, and I kept my eye on the door as I stepped closer to see what was the big scare.

Then, of course, the mannequin moved. That was Jack.

He was a big guy, and I don't know exactly how old he was. In recent years he'd been retired, and I did noticed he'd lost a lot of weight. Only recently did he tell me about his bout with cancer, a struggle he finally lost, about a week ago. I feel bad that I hadn't noticed his absence earlier.

There was a limousine out front this morning - Zelda wanted to know why it concerned us so. I went out and spoke to the driver, who confirmed Jack was dead. Toni went out a little later to hug his grown daughters, to offer condolensces and our regrets while I sat in with Zelda and Orson.

Once I had received the news from the driver then, finally, I told Zelda. Toni and I had been speaking in code for the past two days, wondering whether to go over, or what to do. She took the infomration in stride, because I don't think she understands the larger ramifications of the news.

The past two summers there has been a lot of play between our house and Jack's. His youngest daughter, Alexandrea, who just turned eleven, spent a great deal of time with Zelda the past two summers. She lives with her mom in another part of town. I don't know what the fate of Jack's house is, or whether we will be seeing Alexandrea much anymore, if at all.

Then there is Jack's presence. I observed last year how this is Zelda's childhood, and when she grows up, Jack is always going to be in her memory as "that nice old man who lived next door." The guy with the crazy Halloween decorations - it seemed he owned every motion-activated gee-gaw you could find at Walgreen's. And at Easter there was always a GIANT blue bunny made out of duct tape, and a flamingo with bright, fake feathers, and his lawn was littered with plastic Easter eggs. Jack was Halloween and Easter to me. He made the neighborhood fun.

I'm going to miss him. And I wish I didn't have to talk so much about death.

Hello, Long Island

New date confirmed:
North Shore University Hospital
Rust Auditorium
Manhasset, NY
Sunday, April 30, 2006
Sponsored by the Pregnancy and Infant Loss Support Program.

Thanks to Nancy B. for working so hard to make sure this happens.

The Dark Side

The other night I was taking care of both of the kids, and I said what I knew would be a temporary farewell to Zelda - I needed to rock Orson to sleep, and asked Zelda to try and go to sleep herself while I took care of him. She's been fractious lately, and holding Orson (who was already half asleep) and trying to read to Zelda, who was willfully not going to sleep, was quite a chore.

I asked for a hug, she wouldn't give me one, so I headed out saying, "Good night. I love you."

Zelda: No, you don't.

Dad: Yes, I do, more than you possibly realize. You are my little girl.

Zelda: No, I'm not, I'm a big girl.

Dad: You're right, you're my big girl, and you are my only daughter, the only daughter I will ever have, and I will love you forever.

Zelda: Dad?

Dad: Yes, sweetheart?

Zelda: Are you still alive?

I am standing in the middle of her room, holding a prone Orson. She's lying there in bed.

Dad: Yes, Zelda, I'm still alive.

Zelda: Are you going to die?

Dad: Not for a long time. Grampa John and Tertia are almost twice as old as I am.

Zelda: How old are you?

Dad: I was born thirty-seven years ago. You were born three years ago. Your brother was born almost one year ago.

Zelda: Okay.

And I said "good-night" again, and put Orson to bed. Toni tells me there are experts (and there are always experts) who say it's better for a child to wrestle with the idea of mortality now, rather than when they are five or six. I just wonder who will die next, and what we'll do.

Where's the line? Between a reasonable acceptance and awareness of death and morbidity?

Heart-Shaped Box

Zelda asked to see the green & purple box - "the one for Grampa Calvin" - that we keep up on top of the bookshelf in the upstairs hallway. I believe this was the first time she had asked that since we put it up there. It used to be down in the tee vee room, and before that it was in a bag, waiting for all of Calvin's things to be put into it.

We did not fill the box until Zelda was born, and we decided it was time to change the room (which had actually fallen into a kind of storage space, I have to admit) into the aforementioned tee vee room. Then we put it up high when she took too great an interest in all the things in it, but was too young to talk about them.

Oh, and Grampa Calvin is her great-grandfather, after whom Calvin is named. I thought she was getting that they are two different people ... but then I am not sure exactly what she understands. We waited until after Orson was born, so she wouldn't worry, to explain that this Calvin we talk about is her brother, who died in Mommy's belly, before he was born. Before she was born.

We took the box into the tee vee rom, what was once Calvin's room. It was late, and Orson had little patience. It was as I expected, Zelda wanted to look at everything, pull it all out. We didn't want to be too edgy (don't touch that, be careful with that) and I think Toni was more concerned with the order of things in the box than I, but she wanted to keep certain things out, to have them and to use them, and we said no. Pretty abruptly it was bedtime, with Toni ushering the kids out of the room and my carefull folding and putting away things. A bib. A hat. Two handmade blankets. The high-tops. I had forgotten about the blankets.

There will be a time, someday, for future discussion. I don't know how to do this. I hope it's all right. Later, when Z. was getting distempered about going to bed, I changed the subject for a moment, apologizing for being so proprietary with the things in Calvin's box, but explaining that there are things of his she uses every day - the baby blanket M.P. got for Calvin, the quilt that Donna made. This calmed her down a little, and then she changed the subject, too.

Ready for Prime-Time

First prime-time broadcast of IHT on WCPN will take place on Monday, March 20 at 8 PM. An early birthday present.

Looking for Billy Joel

Received confirmation today that I will be performing I Hate This in Long Island on Sunday, April 30. That will be a whirlwind event - I was able to just shoehorn this one in between rehearsals for Sarah Morton's Night Bloomers.

What's great about this show is that it is a direct result of my work at the NY Fringe in 04. Following that production, and the review, I had a number of offers - to perform in upstate New York, Boston, Off-Broadway - that didn't or couldn't go through. Nancy B. hung onto the review all this time and was waiting for the right moment to propose a show - to her organization, and to me. Means a lot that she'd hang on to the idea of bringing me to her hometown for two years.

Details as they emerge.

My kind of town.

Recently received my contract to perform at the 15th Annual Perinatal Bereavement Conference on Friday, October 13 at 8 PM. I have been looking forward to this since I found out there even was such a thing. In fact, it was shortly before the first reading (August, 2002) that I found this event - it's biennial - and I was, like, aw man, they need my show! But as it was only a few months before it was going off, it was pointless to even contact them ... though i think I did, anyway.

When it would have made sense to try and connect with them, in time for the 2004 conference, I was too wrapped up in Fringe appearances (both of them, actually) that I just forgot. When I found out it was going to be in Vegas, I think I was relieved I blew it.

But Chicago? Hey, as I have stated far too many times for it to remaining amusing, Chicago I my favorite city I have ever lived in that I have never actually lived in. I spent so many odd long weekends in the early 90s visiting friends there (and attending as many performances of Too Much Light ... as I could) that I still don't know why I didn't just dump everything and move there.

Not that we'll see much of the place during the conference - Toni and I plan on doing the conference in the small amount of time we'll be there. I don't have many details yet on what will be covered, but I'll provide them here when I receive them.

No he isn't, either ...

Latest Zelda & Orson photos

One of the 'compliments' often swung at Orson is that "he is such a little Gerber baby!"

Well, if in that you mean his is the kind of baby that, in spite of all reasonable requests, is too stupid or insensitive to remove your name from his mailing list, and as a result allows a series of advertisements to continue arriving at your house reminding you that another baby, the one for whom the unasked for coupons are intended, is still very dead, then yes, you could call him that.

He sure is cute, though.

Surviving Christmas

The holidays ended for us just a few days ago. After wistfully lamenting all of the missed parties this season, we more than made up for it in the days leading up to New Year's and the days that followed rushing back and forth across town to either attend or host events attended, largely, by my extended family.

Henrik, Brenda and Lydia had joined us from London. Lydia, eternally 6 in my show, celebrated her 11th birthday in late November. We hadn't seen her in two years, and Zelda was very excited about seeing her only cousin again. Lydia did not disappoint, as she was also thrilled to see Zelda and her new boy cousin, Orson.

My brother had let me know before they arrived that Lydia had heard the radio drama online in Britain. In fact, she'd listened to it at least three times by his last count. She said that, "through the play I think I am able to envision what they went through." This is actually the way my niece talks.

(Zelda, too, has begun to speak in interesting ways, deferring her mother's offer of, say, a piece of cheese by stating, "I would actually like an apple," though she does have a bit of difficulty wrapping her teeth around the word "actually.")

In fact, when the Hansens UK first arrived and we met up with them at my folks' house in Lakewood, Lydia made a point of coming right up to me and telling me how moved she was by the radio play. I think I embarrassed her by telling her how she is everyone's favorite character in the show.

Two bits of big news: While, yes, there was a rebroadcast of IHT on WCPN the day after New Year's, the big question of its success was always whether or not the powers-that-be would grant it a prime-time spot. Rumor has it that not only is this going to happen, but that it will be at 8 PM on Monday, March 20th - Calvin's 5th birthday. You don't get more poignant than that. It hasn't truly sunk in yet, but if they go through with it, it will make for a very special birthday feast, indeed.

Also, immediately following Calvin's Day, we are leaving for London, and I am attempting to put together a single live performance somewhere in the city. Wish me luck on that. It's what I call "touching the bases" - if I can pull that off and then mount a production in Athens I will have revisited all of the places we convalesced during 2001 and that are represented in the production.