SPECIAL TO THE SOMERS RECORD (12-21-17)
We went to see "A Prairie Home Companion" at the Town Hall in Manhattan last Saturday, as we do every year around Christmastime. It's a great excuse to get into the city, have a look at the Rockefeller Center tree and soak in some holiday cheer. I find it surprising that New York City has a "Town Hall." It makes me want to look around and see if there is a general store somewhere. There's no Main Street in Manhattan so I don't even know where I would look. Next to the livery stable, I guess.
Garrison Kiellor retired from the show a couple years back, before any "groping" allegations started surfacing. It seems like the surface is lower than it used to be, because more and more stories of inappropriate behavior are coming out every day. I know that this is neither the time nor place to explore this serious subject, so I'll wait about 20 minutes and meet you in the dining room.
Okay, I'm back. Now, I'm not a woman, so I only have half a perspective on this issue. I know that there are deranged people out there doing depraved things, and those are for law enforcement to sort out, celebrity-related or not. Aside from that, somewhere between casting entire lives and careers aside for momentary lapses of judgment, and brave women exposing rampant and systemic abuses of power, lies a range of interactions that require a reckoning between men and women. Some questionable behavior wasn't even questionable until we started questioning it.
I was at a bar once and this girl was wearing a really low-cut top so she could show off a tattoo, which was an entire written treatise the length of the Gettysburg Address, written across her bosom. I was curious to find out if this gal's chest had anything important to say, but it was written in like 12-point type in a difficult font, and I thought it might be insulting if I took out my magnifying readers to peer at her chest. You might find this story to be in poor taste, but it struck me as hysterical at the time, after a couple drinks, I admit. The point is that discourse between men and women is often very subjective. But now that the dialogue has begun let everyone be on notice that anything can be taken the wrong way, so let intentions be clear, and let responses be pointed. Nuance and romance may take a hit, but long live clarity of purpose.
Anyway, the show was great but it took us a while to get there. We went to look at the tree at Rock Center, and the crowd was so voluminous that it took us about 20 minutes just to get close enough to snap a selfie. Then it took us another 10 minutes to frame a photo that did not include Minnie Mouse, The Grinch or The Hulk, because we didn't want them to gang up on us for a tip. By the way, since when is Superman only four-and-a-half feet tall? He was cowering underneath an umbrella against the falling snow, and I was a little disappointed in his lack of fortitude.
There were so many Christmas revelers around that we got caught in a yuletide on the way over to the theater, and had to walk parallel to the traffic to get out of it. Once we made it to the theater, we were rewarded with a taste of homespun Americana and high-level musicianship led by the new host and mandolin whiz Chris Thile. If you never thought that someone could play a lead break worthy of Jimmy Page on a teensy-weensy 8-string axe, see it for yourself. The old-time radio feel is still there, and so is sound effects magician Fred Newman. It's a great show to take your kids to, and when you realize that your kids aren't sitting next to you like you thought they were, take a couple hours for yourself before you go and look for them. They're probably somewhere on 6th Avenue, caught in a human tide-pool along with Minnie Mouse and Spiderman. You'd better bring a tip if you want to get them back.
We went to see "A Prairie Home Companion" at the Town Hall in Manhattan last Saturday, as we do every year around Christmastime. It's a great excuse to get into the city, have a look at the Rockefeller Center tree and soak in some holiday cheer. I find it surprising that New York City has a "Town Hall." It makes me want to look around and see if there is a general store somewhere. There's no Main Street in Manhattan so I don't even know where I would look. Next to the livery stable, I guess.
Garrison Kiellor retired from the show a couple years back, before any "groping" allegations started surfacing. It seems like the surface is lower than it used to be, because more and more stories of inappropriate behavior are coming out every day. I know that this is neither the time nor place to explore this serious subject, so I'll wait about 20 minutes and meet you in the dining room.
Okay, I'm back. Now, I'm not a woman, so I only have half a perspective on this issue. I know that there are deranged people out there doing depraved things, and those are for law enforcement to sort out, celebrity-related or not. Aside from that, somewhere between casting entire lives and careers aside for momentary lapses of judgment, and brave women exposing rampant and systemic abuses of power, lies a range of interactions that require a reckoning between men and women. Some questionable behavior wasn't even questionable until we started questioning it.
I was at a bar once and this girl was wearing a really low-cut top so she could show off a tattoo, which was an entire written treatise the length of the Gettysburg Address, written across her bosom. I was curious to find out if this gal's chest had anything important to say, but it was written in like 12-point type in a difficult font, and I thought it might be insulting if I took out my magnifying readers to peer at her chest. You might find this story to be in poor taste, but it struck me as hysterical at the time, after a couple drinks, I admit. The point is that discourse between men and women is often very subjective. But now that the dialogue has begun let everyone be on notice that anything can be taken the wrong way, so let intentions be clear, and let responses be pointed. Nuance and romance may take a hit, but long live clarity of purpose.
Anyway, the show was great but it took us a while to get there. We went to look at the tree at Rock Center, and the crowd was so voluminous that it took us about 20 minutes just to get close enough to snap a selfie. Then it took us another 10 minutes to frame a photo that did not include Minnie Mouse, The Grinch or The Hulk, because we didn't want them to gang up on us for a tip. By the way, since when is Superman only four-and-a-half feet tall? He was cowering underneath an umbrella against the falling snow, and I was a little disappointed in his lack of fortitude.
There were so many Christmas revelers around that we got caught in a yuletide on the way over to the theater, and had to walk parallel to the traffic to get out of it. Once we made it to the theater, we were rewarded with a taste of homespun Americana and high-level musicianship led by the new host and mandolin whiz Chris Thile. If you never thought that someone could play a lead break worthy of Jimmy Page on a teensy-weensy 8-string axe, see it for yourself. The old-time radio feel is still there, and so is sound effects magician Fred Newman. It's a great show to take your kids to, and when you realize that your kids aren't sitting next to you like you thought they were, take a couple hours for yourself before you go and look for them. They're probably somewhere on 6th Avenue, caught in a human tide-pool along with Minnie Mouse and Spiderman. You'd better bring a tip if you want to get them back.
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