Come From Away

A KR backdrop of Hopewell Junction that Sue and I painted for a camp musical.
Those were the days when a set dressed the stage.

Broadway has changed, and I don't mean the couple of city blocks now lined with tables and chairs. The entire experience has changed. I can remember when our seats faced a velvet curtain and an overture filled the air with music and anticipation. A full orchestra was as important to the Broadway experience as the illusion a set designer created behind the velvet. Shows do not have overtures anymore and they all seem to have taken down the curtains that used to rise into the rafters. The stage of your next show will probably be in full view as you walk in, with members of the cast or crew roaming around and setting things up. Nothing is hidden, not even the actors; the audience is the one making the dramatic entrance.

An intermission is something else that seems to have become a thing of the past. Better locate the restrooms before you find your seat.

Not everything has changed. Ushers in uniforms still escort you to your seat, hopefully on an aisle or with lots of leg room. Last night all the ushers in the Schoenfeld Theater wore the usual tight black pants and jacket, a crisp white button-down shirt, and a colorful tie. I happily thanked ours for our Playbill even though I can't remember the last time I actually read the program. Now we just hold it up in front of us for a Facebook selfie and hope a little square piece of paper does not fall out. Last night, an understudy was given the break she was waiting for, but it didn't much matter to us when the notice fell out of the program. It wasn't like Carol Channing was out sick. All the actors in this show were wonderful. It was more of a team effort, a far cry from the days when there was the star and then there was the rest of the cast.

Our audience was of a certain age, like me. Most would remember Broadway as I remember Broadway. In the row in front of us sat an older gentleman with an impressive head of silver hair and bright red glasses. His wife (I assume) had bright red hair and silver glasses. I found that amusing and I wondered if she dyed her hair to match his glasses. Next to them sat a couple we met while we were waiting outside. As it happens in Jewish geography, we knew people from their over-55  neighborhood in New Jersey. And they went to Tilden High School in Brooklyn, just like my husband. People of a certain age not only have people and places to talk about, but they help each other take selfies. I know it is not really a selfie, but sometimes you need another set of hands to get your face and the sign in the same picture.

Come From Away hangs a poster outside the theatre just for your selfies.

People of a certain age also tend to dress up for the theatre. Last night, I admired how proper and fancy one man looked with his suit and tie. His wife was dripping with jewels. (I forgot to wear mine.) With this age bracket of theatergoers, the actors get to enjoy a well-dressed audience.

The set for Come from Away was not dressed to impress. Trees lined the simple stage and we were invited to watch the musicians set their stands and instruments among the branches. Chairs and tables were the only props. The small cast of twelve actors moved the furniture around themselves and they played multiple roles, taking off a jacket or adding a hat for a simple costume change. It was all so minimalistic.

Come From Away is not the story of 9/11. It was the story of 9/12 and the days following the attacks. Travelers to the US were diverted to a small town in Newfoundland. Canada welcomes us every time we need to escape our country or our airways. From Vietnam to Trump, we always have a reason to cross the border. This show told us the story of the stranded plane people and the amazing friendly neighbors in Canada who embraced them with open arms, a change of clothes and a place to sleep. I could not imagine such a horrific tale set to music, but the show ended with a big song and dance finale, so I guess it could be defined as a musical. A Tony Award show, Come From Away was very well done... even without impressing us under the Broadway lights we remember.

If a stage does not have a curtain, can the actors still have a curtain call?

A better question is why we went to see a show about planes making emergency landings just days before we board our United Airlines flight for a vacation. Let's just hope our landing does not become a story that deserves a stage.

Baby, it's cold outside!

This was our Aunt Elke, shown here with her nephews.
She had flown up from Florida to celebrate her granddaughter's wedding.

We woke up to 34 degrees. A cold morning. Our old blankets outlived their appearance and warmth after a dog and two humans snuggled into the fibers for so many years. During the summer, I made my bed with a lovely new lightweight quilt. It came with a fancy pillow sham and it was fun to dress the mattress each morning. My bedroom became a symbol of a perfect house.

Once the temps dropped, the old covers were thrown back on and my carelessly made bed came back home like a child from college. So as any good homemaker would, I used my 30% off an already cheap sale price at Kohl's and bought two new warm blankets in a pretty color. My house is well dressed again. Now we are enveloped in warmth at night. It was close to freezing this morning; we need the warmth.

This was Norman's text to me this morning.
 He likes our new blanket, but not New Jersey.

Norman says he needs Florida. I have never been to the state where old people go for warmth. Do they have well-lit rooms down there for artists who retired but still want to paint as well as keep warm?

I don't think Florida has our beautiful New England trails covered in fall leaves, but honestly, my perfect fall season only lasted a couple of weeks. It is already much too cold out. Today, I will skip my brisk walk around Covered Bridge and I won't be hearing the crunch of autumn leaves in the park. I guess I won't reach my goal of 10,000 steps again until the spring.

I don't know if I could embrace Florida living. Norman has relatives and friends who migrated south with the birds and he flies down to visit them regularly. These people seem to love living there. Problem is, I do not want to be so far away from my children. I need to feel the warmth of their hugs, not just hear their voices over a phone. If I could uproot my whole family and take them with me, I would live there. I guess. I've never been there. How do I know I want to live there?

Next week, we fly down to Dave's neighborhood along with the rest of New Jersey. We'll be staying in Aunt Elke's place and I'll find out if this lifestyle could be for me. I am excited to visit with Delmi, Dave, Doris, Joel and Aunt Sonia. I hope I like Florida, but I'm still not moving there.

So I say.

The jackpot for the lottery is way up there, into the billions. I don't need a billion dollars. That would come with way too much responsibility. A couple of million would do the trick. I would pay off our bills, invest the rest in our children and our future, and happily buy a home in Florida to escape the frigid temperatures. I would also buy a home in the Berkshires where I could "summer" like rich artists do... and keep my home in Jersey where I can enjoy a hug from my children. Three homes. That's my dream.

Buy a lottery ticket because you have to be in it to win it.
What do you do to keep warm?