A FEW THOUGHTS

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (11-15-18)


      A few thoughts are about all I can rally before I get a severe headache. I've never been a particularly political person, I've voted Republican, I've voted Democrat, and I've voted Independent, and I've made a conscious effort to avoid overt politics here, other than to make a joke or two that I couldn't resist. This week's column is not meant to be funny, and same could be said about my skiing. I am writing it before the mid-term elections have taken place, so I don't know who took the House, and who took the Senate. I only know that when I went to Las Vegas the House took ME. But in my opinion, a combination of the Supreme Court decision known as The People v. Citizens United, and the proliferation of Social Media and its disproportionate value in society have caused such polarization that the middle is a place that is quickly going out of style, like my hair. Okay, my wife has just informed me that my hair was out of style way before political polarization. Our democracy is a bit of a mess right now, even more so than my hair.

      I'm going to bring up something a little unusual, possibly radical. I'm going to propose that we think of politics differently, not as the enemy, not as a tribal divide, but as something to help us solve all our problems. Maybe not solve them totally, but each one just a little bit. The rest has to come from the inside outward, first through ourselves, then our families, our communities, and finally to our federal government. And in order to do that, we have to turn 180 degrees (remind me to preheat the oven) and focus not on how much I hate you (because chances are I don't), but on how much we actually agree on. We're all humans on this Earth, right? Now that that's settled, let's go further. Do you think every single person in this country should be allowed to have a gun? If not, then who shouldn't? Do you think hunters should be allowed to use an AR-15? Maybe you don't, maybe you do. Hey, the animals can use them too if they want. What about a Sherman tank? Does the Second Amendment protect that right? Probably we'll have to agree on what the limits are, or whoever can afford a Sherman tank will probably get one, now that I gave them the idea. Can we agree that no one should wear socks with sandals?

      Let's look ahead: Do you want your granddaughter's children to enjoy two weeks in a row without a "hundred-year" storm? If so, then we're going to have to agree to adopt science as a national standard, and not goofy science. Another thing: If, because of more mainstream intermarriage, most people turn out to be more-or-less the color of cafe con leche in a few centuries, does it really seem so important to be racist now? Would you agree that there probably always have been and probably always will be people who are homosexual, or non-sexual, or willing to flip whatever your script is? If so, do you think you can get over it and worry about the Kardashians instead? I've seen your issues, even your back issues, and they could use some attention too, I'm just saying. What about the federal government, does it spend too much? Do you think anyone in the world should arbitrarily be allowed to enter and reside in the United States at any time? Whatever your opinion is, let's distill it to the very locus of where we converge, and work backward. And let's focus on what and why rather than who. Anyone who needs to resort to name-calling just to make a point is an idiot.

      I am here to tell you: polarization is the long-term enemy. I believe that some of what's on Fox is true. Some of what's on SNL is deplorable. Don't be afraid to admit it; when you recognize the value in someone else's opinion, it reflects back to you from others and increases the value of your own. Crowdsource your own happiness by learning something from someone who doesn't agree with you.

      Did you ever have the experience where you thought someone was a total jerk, but then that person did something to help you or compliment you first, and before you had the chance to elbow them away, you were best friends? I bet you have, and it is a basic trait of human relations. If you do something positive towards someone else, it will make you feel good, and it will cause that other person to then think about you and about someone else more kindly. I'd like to see the statistics, I bet they are telling. I'd also like to know the percentage of strikeouts by Yankees with men in scoring position and two outs, as long as we're on statistics, but actually I am trying to stay positive.

      Are we willing to grant the possibility that the record economic picture is not a coincidence? Are we willing to accept the blame if it proves to be a disaster in the future? Almost nothing is totally one way or the other, so let's continue the debate, but this time let's concede points on both sides, then build something useful out of them. We've done it before.

      If I've offended a few people, let me just say that that's way fewer than usual. Now I'm going to go back to making fun of stuff, so I will issue this disclaimer for the above: Void where prohibited, your mileage may differ, and please talk to you doctor before taking any medication. And when by the time this column is published the results of the nation's mid-term elections are known, I will either be heartened, or be disappointed, and I'll be lucky to live in a country where I can tell you so.

TROLL PATROLS AND CANDY BOWLS

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (11-08-18)

      What did you do for Halloween? I love a party on the Saturday before Halloween for all sorts of reasons, and the most important of those is the prevalence of candy that does not try to pretend to be good for you. Just give me a Kit Kat bar, a Butterfingers, some peanut M & Ms and a Three Musketeers. Don't try to shortchange my calories with Two Musketeers. If someone says to me, "I have a REAL treat for you! REAL peaches, with REAL CREAM!" You are going to see my face drop all the way to the floor. I don't want any coconut, any licorice, any strawberry, anything squirting out of the middle of the chocolate onto my shoe. I just want enough chocolate to alter my triglyceride levels, and I am willing to put up with all the other stuff, the costumes, the spider webs, the evil laughter, to get it.

     We went to a party with our friends Laurie and Mark. I was dressed as an internet troll, with my troll horns, and troll hands and troll beard, and a computer keyboard to troll with. I must have spent $80 bucks on all this crap. The problem is that I raised the bar too high that one year when I made a costume out of my wife's bathroom rug. I sewed it into the shape of a llama's face, with a talking mouth that opened and closed when I pulled a string so that I could sing songs through it. I accompanied myself on the guitar, sang "9 to 5," and I had a blonde wig, a denim skirt and big boobs. Yes, you're absolutely right, I was the Dolly Llama. Now everybody expects that I'm going to top that, and not only that, but my wife is still mad at me for ruining her bathroom rug.

      Another thing to like about Halloween is that girls always look great. Cat ears and a tail are such a flattering look that it's surprising god didn't just assemble them that way in the first place. I asked one feline if she could hear any better with the cat ears on, and she said, "What?" So I guess not. Halloween is a great opportunity for girls to try out accessories in a high margin-of-error environment. Does this Wonder Woman outfit make me look fat? I don't know but I bet Wonder Woman asked the same thing every day. Does this female lumberjack outfit make my axe look big? Do these horns make me look... well, never mind about the horns.

      As good as girls look on Halloween is how bad guys usually look. Men dressed as cavemen, or babies or gladiators usually just look lost, and I'm willing to include myself in that assessment. I look around the room and wonder who has been leading a double life. See that guy over there dressed as a fairy? He puts on a suit-and-tie costume for 364 Halloweens in a row, and on one night at the end of October, he finally gets to be himself. Hashtag #LIVINGALIE.

      I like to see the lengths people are willing to go to to be in the spirit of things. I follow the person dressed as an angel with really long wings or something and wait until they are at the dessert table. Then I come up behind them and yell, "I've been touched by an angel, INAPPROPRIATELY!" And see how much crap they can knock off the table when they turn around. I help to clean up the candy from the floor of course. When I told my wife I was going to be a troll, she said fine, just don't make it a hobbit. After a half hour I had to take my costume off, because I couldn't open the candy with my troll hands on. I couldn't see through my wig and the hair was falling out into my beer. I asked if it would be inappropriate for a troll to put its hair up in a French bun, and the answer turned out to be "yes."

     The party was a total witch hunt. I found some in a coven by the hot food table, and each one had a broom. By the end of the party the place was a total mess, and do you think any of them used the broom once to tidy up a little bit? Some of those cobwebs looked like they've been there for a while. Halloween does not have an infinite shelf life. I was starting to itch from something I wasn't even wearing anymore, and it seems I'm allergic to feathers. I went into the bathroom and there was this little plastic Frankenstein in there laughing like the dickens, an inappropriate laugh. What could be so funny in the bathroom? I always thought Frankenstein seemed pretty normal, but I'm beginning to wonder.

      On the car ride home I started thinking about next year's costume. I still have my Dolly Llama outfit somewhere, and those are big hooves to fill. If I run out of ideas I may try it again, but if me and the real Dalai Lama show up at the same party, I'm going to have a lot of explaining to do.

FAMILY FUN DAY

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (11-01-18)

      Twice a year the Tarrytown Music Hall hosts a Family Fun Day, where parents and kids can stop by and get a close-up look at the theater. As a Music Hall volunteer, I often help out on those days so I can keep in touch with the community and sit in seats that I'm normally too cheap to purchase. There are activities and performances to keep everybody busy.

      I don't have any kids that I know of, but I remember being one, so how hard could parenting be? You just do the opposite of everything you liked when you were a kid. People used to ask me if I'd ever want children. "Maybe one day in the future," I'd respond. One day is about all I could handle, so Family Fun Day is perfect for me, since everybody goes home after a few hours. Having kids is a big decision. I was always afraid that at some point youngsters might screech, and I have an aversion to loud displays of drama. Plus, there are so many rules now. Do I need a baby walker or a baby stroller? My baby looks like it's ambling- do I need a separate device for that? When I was growing up it was easier; my parents would tell us to go play in the street and try not to damage any cars that drove by. When the sun went down we went inside to get something to eat, but other than that you were expected not to do anything that would make your parents have to apologize to the neighbors or pay for anything you broke.

      Last year at Family Fun Day I was helping out at the shaker station. You take these plastic eggs and fill them with rice, spilling most of it on the floor. Then you take two plastic spoons, and tape the whole thing together with this colored tape, and presto, you have a nice set of maracas, something I forgot to compliment you on the last time I saw you. Now, you may think that it's counter-intuitive to give young people something to make noise with. But the key here is to give them something that makes LESS noise than whatever they had before. Plus, when we were done there was enough rice on the floor to feed a medium-sized Asian country.

      Onstage there was a circus arts company that was teaching kids how to learn to juggle or walk a tightrope. One gal from the troupe shimmied up a silk ribbon that went all the way up to the catwalk. I should have asked her to feed the cat as long as she was up there. Who hasn't dreamed about running away to the circus? I've had that dream, but it was a traveling circus and eventually they ran away from ME.

     This year I was working at an arts and crafts table. You take a cardboard template with clear plastic in the middle in the shape of an acorn, and you glue pieces of translucent colored paper to it. When you hold it up to the light it looks like a stained glass window. Soon I had a table full of kids with their Moms and Dads working on them. In the background they were playing songs from Pixar movies, and I figured I could impress the kids with my knowledge of Disney heroines, and make a little small talk. I had a captive audience of a Mom and two sisters. "You know who you look like?" I said to one of them. "Shrek." I was not so gently informed that Shrek is an ogre. "Oops, sorry to hear that. I thought it was that mermaid with the red hair who looks like she may have had a nose job." Mom wasn't getting involved.

     Back onstage the Music Hall Academy group was running an improv class demonstration which teaches people how to think on their feet, even if they're sitting down. Meanwhile, I was working on my own stained glass window along with the others. I am really great with kids because we are pretty close in emotional maturity. "You know, when I was a kid, we used to eat the paste," I said. The Mom finally looked up. "But I don't recommend it as a primary diet. You should eat an apple instead. But if it was between cauliflower and paste I probably would choose the paste." I'm not kidding, we really did used to eat the paste, I'm not exactly sure why. I was starting to get hungry but I was the only volunteer at my table. If I ate the paste AND an acorn template, I'd have a stained glass window in my stomach and I could look at it through my belly button. I had to end the conversation because I glued the damned thing to my shirt. So I really don't know if I'll ever have children, I guess you'll have to clear it with them.
 

FAMILY FUN DAY

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (11-01-18)

      Twice a year the Tarrytown Music Hall hosts a Family Fun Day, where parents and kids can stop by and get a close-up look at the theater. As a Music Hall volunteer, I often help out on those days so I can keep in touch with the community and sit in seats that I'm normally too cheap to purchase. There are activities and performances to keep everybody busy.

      I don't have any kids that I know of, but I remember being one, so how hard could parenting be? You just do the opposite of everything you liked when you were a kid. People used to ask me if I'd ever want children. "Maybe one day in the future," I'd respond. One day is about all I could handle, so Family Fun Day is perfect for me, since everybody goes home after a few hours. Having kids is a big decision. I was always afraid that at some point youngsters might screech, and I have an aversion to loud displays of drama. Plus, there are so many rules now. Do I need a baby walker or a baby stroller? My baby looks like it's ambling- do I need a separate device for that? When I was growing up it was easier; my parents would tell us to go play in the street and try not to damage any cars that drove by. When the sun went down we went inside to get something to eat, but other than that you were expected not to do anything that would make your parents have to apologize to the neighbors or pay for anything you broke.

      Last year at Family Fun Day I was helping out at the shaker station. You take these plastic eggs and fill them with rice, spilling most of it on the floor. Then you take two plastic spoons, and tape the whole thing together with this colored tape, and presto, you have a nice set of maracas, something I forgot to compliment you on the last time I saw you. Now, you may think that it's counter-intuitive to give young people something to make noise with. But the key here is to give them something that makes LESS noise than whatever they had before. Plus, when we were done there was enough rice on the floor to feed a medium-sized Asian country.

      Onstage there was a circus arts company that was teaching kids how to learn to juggle or walk a tightrope. One gal from the troupe shimmied up a silk ribbon that went all the way up to the catwalk. I should have asked her to feed the cat as long as she was up there. Who hasn't dreamed about running away to the circus? I've had that dream, but it was a traveling circus and eventually they ran away from ME.

     This year I was working at an arts and crafts table. You take a cardboard template with clear plastic in the middle in the shape of an acorn, and you glue pieces of translucent colored paper to it. When you hold it up to the light it looks like a stained glass window. Soon I had a table full of kids with their Moms and Dads working on them. In the background they were playing songs from Pixar movies, and I figured I could impress the kids with my knowledge of Disney heroines, and make a little small talk. I had a captive audience of a Mom and two sisters. "You know who you look like?" I said to one of them. "Shrek." I was not so gently informed that Shrek is an ogre. "Oops, sorry to hear that. I thought it was that mermaid with the red hair who looks like she may have had a nose job." Mom wasn't getting involved.

     Back onstage the Music Hall Academy group was running an improv class demonstration which teaches people how to think on their feet, even if they're sitting down. Meanwhile, I was working on my own stained glass window along with the others. I am really great with kids because we are pretty close in emotional maturity. "You know, when I was a kid, we used to eat the paste," I said. The Mom finally looked up. "But I don't recommend it as a primary diet. You should eat an apple instead. But if it was between cauliflower and paste I probably would choose the paste." I'm not kidding, we really did used to eat the paste, I'm not exactly sure why. I was starting to get hungry but I was the only volunteer at my table. If I ate the paste AND an acorn template, I'd have a stained glass window in my stomach and I could look at it through my belly button. I had to end the conversation because I glued the damned thing to my shirt. So I really don't know if I'll ever have children, I guess you'll have to clear it with them.

WRITING FOR A SONG

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (10-25-18)

     Most people know how to sing, many people like to sing and some people love to sing. It's an unique diversion that lies at the intersection of many disparate disciplines. There is usually a tune involved, and whatever artistry that comes with it. There are usually lyrics, and so meaning and context are much more readily apparent than in instrumental music. A wide variety of other elements may be wrapped up into the bargain, like emotion, rhythm, religion, politics and even education.

     To explore these issues further and to try to get in better touch with my own singing, I went to an all-day seminar called "the Natural Singer" at the Open Center in Manhattan. The Open Center is a place where words like "transformative" and "healing" come up quite often, so I ate a hamburger with a lot of ketchup beforehand to counterbalance the effects of being around such a nurturing 
environment. The class consisted of 20 women and 3 men, so right away I was vastly outnumbered.

    We started out with some breathing exercises. I learned how to breathe properly, and I've been doing it wrong for so many years it's a wonder I haven't dropped dead by now. When the instructor took a breath, he showed how his stomach got bigger, whereas I thought the air was supposed to go into your lungs. Live and learn, if you live that long. We did some voice calisthenics consisting of some weird sounds designed to loosen up your vocal cords. They sounded like Felix Unger clearing his sinuses, and come to think of it my sinuses did feel better afterwards.

     I've noticed that there isn't much correlation between how well you sing and how loud you sing, If you've ever been to karaoke night at the local bar, you've heard "Paradise by the Dashboard Light" sung at deafening volume, and with even the Phil Rizzuto call in the middle performed off key. I once heard a girl sing "Killing Me Softly with His Song" out of tune so loudly that I was sure that she was trying to kill me faster. By the way, any decent doctor will tell you that strumming your pain with your fingers is just going to exacerbate it and cause an inflammation, and I wouldn't be surprised if all that strumming is what caused the pain in the first place. If someone had been strumming my pain with their fingers and I wrote a song about it, it would have been an entirely different song.

     Anyway, the instructor asked each member of the class to say a few words about why they were there and what they wanted to get out of it. A couple people said that they wanted to become "self-actualized" through singing. I'm not sure if I would know when I was self-actualized, so if you happen to notice that I am, please do me a favor and let me know so I can cross it off my list. One wanted to find "her truth" by singing. That sounded pretty good to me, but if the truth is that I can't sing, then I'm okay living a lie. One really nice older fellow named Jack said he wanted to be able to sing outside of the shower. Some wanted to just have fun singing and be able to carry a tune, not necessarily very far. Not everyone had lofty goals. Mine was to be able to sing without straining my voice so much.

     We broke for a long lunch and I bought an organically grown, locally sourced cup of coffee harvested by indigenous peoples and served in a biodegradable cup that started to break down into its core elements while I was still drinking from it. The coffee cost $3.25, and one thing I notice is that health food is never healthy for your wallet. "Have you seen Rick's wallet lately? It looks TERRIBLE- It has lost a TON of weight. I heard it's on a health food diet, and clearly it is not working. I don't think it's long for this world." I usually take one Sweet'n Low in my coffee, but all they had was a container of this brown-looking sugar, and I had to use the entire rest of the bottle, which was about a quarter of it to get anything done. The guy behind me wasn't too thrilled with me using it all up, and I thought that if he punches me, health food won't be so healthy for my face, either.

      After lunch we were each called upon to sing a song for the rest of the class, which was instructed to be only supportive. Before long it became clear that most people had all kinds of underlying issues to deal with that singing wasn't going to cure. All of a sudden I was in a reality show, and the instructor was digging deep into troubled pasts, and people were fighting back tears. One gal burst out crying before the song even started. Hey, I've been there. I suffered in my childhood. I was poor growing up in Chappaqua and had to make ends meet on a fifty-cent allowance. I was forced to mow the lawn every Saturday for my room and board, and I'm not talking about an especially large room.

      We talked her down, worked through her issues, and we triumphed. Finally, she rose like a Phoenix from the ashes, and we all clapped. I had a feeling in the pit of my stomach, which may have been that damned organic coffee. The rest of us performed, and people were self-actualized. I sang without straining my voice. People found their truth, and they embraced the joy of singing. And Jack said he felt comfortable enough to sing outside of the shower. The consensus was, however, that he still remain inside the bathroom.

AN OPEN HOSE OPEN HOUSE

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (10-18-18)

     Last Saturday the Somers Volunteer Fire Department held an open house, where they invited residents to come over and take a closer look at what they do and how they do it. I brought the ever-furry Gidget-the-dog with me, to see if she might take to the lifestyle and consider becoming a firedog. Sometimes a firehouse has a Dalmatian with a lot of dots on it, and when you connect the dots it forms a dog. But I didn't see one there, so I thought maybe Gidget might volunteer, if I could teach her to slide down the fire pole. The members served lunch, had some activities for the kids and answered questions.

     The firemen executed a "controlled burn," where they construct a small room, fill it with furniture, light it ablaze and then extinguish it in front of the crowd. Before starting the demonstration they made an announcement to remind residents to change their smoke alarm batteries and to get their chimneys cleaned. So if you haven't done those two things, now is the time. I'm often unable to start a fire in my fireplace, let alone my chimney. The only place I can get a decent fire going is in my toaster, meaning that my toast, once again, is toast.

     The four firefighters in full protective gear trained the hose on the conflagration in a swirling motion, starting on the ceiling and working down through the room. The blaze was so hot that when the first man went to the back, the next man up moved forward. Soon all that was left was a smouldering mess, not unlike Kim Kardashian after a keg party. There are three things that I noticed during this demonstration. The first thing that struck me was that the couches used in the burn room were so ugly, it's a wonder no one thought of torching them before this. Way back in the quality control room of the furniture factory, some worker named #11 (but everyone calls him #6) should have taken a full can of lighter fluid and doused it right there to put it out of its misery. The second thing I noticed is that even a controlled fire is scary. The room and its contents caught fire so fast, everyone could see that trying to put it out with a fire extinguisher is pointless, and escaping should always be the first thing on your mind. The third thing that struck me was the kid behind me, who hit me with a plastic fireman's hat, possibly on purpose.

     There was an open fire truck on display, and firefighter Bill showed me around. I asked him what was in the back, and thank goodness he didn't say, "A lot of hose," a sentence which seems pretty harmless in print, but is much worse when spoken out loud. There were a bunch of fire extinguishers, because they have to different ones for each type of fire, whether it be electrical, grease, flammables or what used to be my toast. There were some other tanks in the rear and I asked if they were oxygen, but Bill said that you do not want to bring more oxygen to a fire. They are filled with just regular fresh air. Where they could possibly find that I have no idea. Not my kitchen, I just finished making a tuna fish sandwich. If you go outside to get some fresh air, that's where all the smokers and vapers are, creating these big clouds of carcinogens. They'll have to wait until some fresh air blows in from Oregon to fill up those tanks.

     Bill said that the fire truck is a "tool box on wheels," and they have just about everything in there. They have generators, axes, electric saws, the "jaws of life," jacks and cribbing to secure disabled vehicles, flashlights, blowers, emergency medical apparatus, even equipment to perform an ice rescue. You just don't realize how many different emergencies the Fire Department may be called upon to respond to. There was a case of bottled water in there too, but a fire would have to be awfully small to get down to that option.

     There was a ton of smoke coming from behind the truck, and I turned on my phone in case I needed to call the Fire Department, but it was just the lunch grill going full blast. Me and Gidget wandered over for a cheeseburger and fries. By the time we got back to the fire truck kids were sitting at the driver's seat for a photo-op from their Mom. The Somers Volunteer Fire Department is looking for recruits, so who knows, maybe some of those kids will volunteer one day. We may have to wait until their feet can reach the pedals.   

THE FAIRE-EST OF THEM ALL

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (10-11-18)

      Last Sunday your faithful travel correspondent (that's me) took a ride to the town of Tuxedo to check out the New York Renaissance Faire. We had never been up there, and had no idea what to expect. The Faire is a bit of a mish-mosh of all kinds of fantasy and reality, but I had already temporarily suspended all belief back in the parking lot, where I took it on faith that I would be able to get back out of my space when I left. If you walk around the Faire long enough, you'll see a little of everything: pirates, Robin Hood, Games of Thrones, archery, falconry, fair maidens, flagons and dragons, jesters and jousters. There are also camel rides, and I'm not sure how camels fit into this scheme, but if you ask a camel a question like that, you're not likely to like the answer.

      Many people either show up in period costume, or they dress like that all the time. There's a lot of "thee," "thy" and "thou," and everyone refers to each other as "M'lord," "M'lady" or "M'gender non-specific individual." The girls all look great- they wear their corsets on the outside where you can see how much time it took to put them on, and there isn't a boyish figure that can't be made bustier by a bustier. The experience has an other-worldly feel to it, as if you are attending a red-headed petting zoo. Some had dipped into the grog a bit, perhaps imbibed a yard or two of ale. In fact there may have been a yard sale going on over by Sherwood Forest.

     There was an archery exhibition, and I was hoping someone would try to shoot an apple off somebody's head, or vice versa. The contest came down to a final between a fair maiden and a Robin Hood-looking dude. Robin Hood was the guy who robbed from the rich and gave to the poor, way before the democrats made it an art form. How hard could the sport of archery be? There's an arrow pointing RIGHT AT the target! I would bet you ten bucks that there's a sports book on everything that happens at this place. As the fair maiden drew back her bow, the audience was in a quiver, and so were the arrows. She let one fly, straight and true, but victory was elusive for the lady this day....

      We made our way over to the Roselawn field to check out the joust, and I really wasn't expecting much. But as we watched Sir Edgeron of Aquataine face Don Vincenzo di Sicilia, I was cheering along with everybody else. A hearty "HUZZAH!" can clear cobwebs out of your soul that you didn't even know were there. Even though I knew for certain that these two guys atop their horses were going to jab at each other with their lances, it was still less predictable than the N.Y. Giant offense. You could tell that there was some trash-talking going on, some disparaging remarks about you and the horse you rode in on. The contestants were covered from head to toe in armor, and if it was me up on that horse I would have 86-ed the lance and brought an electric can opener instead.

      After that we dropped in on a performance of "Cirque du Sewer," an adorable show consisting of some acrobatics and some wild animal taming. It was a gal, her boyfriend, her trained cat and her trained rat. If the cat was trained better she probably wouldn't still have the rat. The cat did a few tricks when it felt like it, you know how cats are, and the rat just seemed glad to get out of his house, which is by definition a rat-hole. The girl was quite endearing and quite limber.

      Then we watched a glass blower from Snake Oil Glassworks plying her trade. She was finishing up a beautiful mug, exacting work, and I was just hoping she wouldn't ruin it, but in the end, she blew it.

      By the late afternoon I was bushed from all the activities and retreated to the parking lot, dragon my tired self back to the car. I wasn't used to the enchanting pace. But the cast members were enthusiastic throughout. They are true professionals who tour the country sharing their skills and talents. The recurring theme that we noticed throughout the festival was that not one performer took themselves too seriously. A sense of humor and poking a little fun at oneself could go a long way in this world. Maybe they could use a little of that in Congress. I imagined that this was a pretty healthy way of looking at things, until I imagined Mitch McConnell in a puffy shirt and tights.