A couple of years ago I started volunteering for a local theater group. Through that activity I met people who invited me to become an usher at our local Symphony Hall and at the historic Orpheum Theatre. As a Symphony Hall usher, I work for performances of the local Symphony, Ballet, and Opera companies. The Orpheum hosts small touring companies, concerts of various genres, and events sponsored by local arts, educational, and charitable organizations. I also am one of the docents who give tours of the theater. In the second half of 2015, I was offered the role of Usher Captain (oooooh!). I said ‘yes’, believing as I do, in most areas of life, there is no reason not to take money for something I was already doing for free. Besides, I get to wear a nifty, retro-looking, maroon blazer made of 100% virgin polyester. Everyone loves a man in uniform. The hours vary from week to week but tend to concentrate on evening and weekends.
In another spin-off of my skills as usher extraordinaire, last spring the City’s volunteer coordinator let me know the City was trying to hire “Venue Hosts” at the Convention Center. The hiring process to work for the City is more bureaucratic than I imagined possible but after a few months of processing and interviewing I was hired. The Venue Host gig is fun. Occasionally I will encounter a ‘friend of Dave’; a cranky senior citizen who just wants to complain and vent their sense of disappointed entitlement but most of the time conventions or expos are hectic but enjoyable. I help people find their events in the Center, and their cars afterward. I direct them to local restaurants, theaters, or other points of interest and act as resource for local information. I also get to work closely with the local Convention & Visitors Bureau. Many of the events are corporate but there are others as well. Both Ben Carson and ‘The Donald’ held rallies in the Center. The Salvation Army hosted its Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners there as well. The job is part-time. The schedule varies from week to week, depending on schedule of events in the Convention Center.
In addition to these two, I also volunteer with one of the local museums and three local theater companies.
These factors, plus the usual ebb & flow of life with its auto repairs, dentist/doctor appointments, cultural evenings, and social obligations, mean I seem to be forever updating my calendar and juggling things. I’m not complaining. Most of it is discretionary and I can thin out the calendar whenever I start to feel over-committed. But there is a loss of spontaneity and I am occasionally confronted by the density of it.
Harper’s Other Dad sent me a note last week about an invitation to meet another couple for coffee. The first gap in the calendar that would accommodate such a casual meeting was 21 days hence. Yesterday, H.O.D. learned a friend from the Midwest would be in town on Friday evening and hoped to connect. They had not seen each other in a long time. Arranging it was not a problem, really. I just moved his Symphony ticket from Friday night to Saturday night and adjusted the dog’s day care schedule. Sadly, I won’t be able to join them, however. My next uncommitted Friday evening is February 26th.
Earworm: noun. A 
The 2015 – 2016 Symphony season began last weekend with a program that included Beethoven’s Symphony #9 as well as a relatively new piece by a contemporary American composer named Adam Schoenberg (not that Schoenberg!). Both pieces were well performed and well received. Both Friday and Saturday night’s performances were sold out, a little unusual for a Classics series concert.
The theme for this season is “Symphony Unexpected”. I’m not entirely sure what that means, perhaps the combination standards with 21st-century pieces. Whatever the rationale, it is a significant improvement over last year’s theme, “It’s Tito Time” in honor of our then-new conductor. The season brochure shows a close-up of a tux but rather than the typical black tie, it is orange sequined. I guess that is the unexpected.
I enjoy live theater. With the energy from the stage and the shared experience of being part of an audience, I think almost any live theater is worth seeing. Jukebox musicals and Neil Simon comedies test that theory, but I can usually find something interesting in whatever I see. The exceptionally good and the exceptionally bad stay with me. The rest fade from memory as pleasant evenings. Sometimes, for reasons unrelated to the production, events conspire to make a theater outing a night to remember, but not in a good way. Such was the case this weekend.
The local 2015-16 entertainment season started, at least for me, with Southwest Shakespeare Company’s production of Terry Johnson’s Hysteria. The play premiered in London in 1993 with the formidable title; “Hysteria: Or Fragments of an Analysis of an Obsessive Neurosis” As such, it joins Brad Fraser’s “Unidentified Human Remains and the True Nature of Love” (1989) and Tony Kushner’s “The Intelligent Homosexual’s Guide to Capitalism and Socialism with a Key to the Scriptures” (2009) in a three-way tie for most awkward title of a contemporary play that I’ve seen and enjoyed. Honorable mention goes to Edward Albee’s “The Goat or Who Is Sylvia?”. It appears the subtitle was dropped when Hysteria was published in 1995.
Last spring I started volunteering at one of our local museums. There are a number of volunteer opportunities available but the one I enjoy most, at least thus far, is staffing the Information Desk. There is a nice variety of questions and it affords me the opportunity to interact with most of the guests. Working conditions are pleasant and most of the museum staff and volunteers are friendly.
About that time some guests arrived so I gave her the email address I’d written down and turned my attention to the visitors. After what seemed like an uncomfortably long silence, Sally wandered off to resume her roving.
The recent trip to Canada included many wonderful experiences but one that rises toward the top of the list is my visit to the Rideau Street Convent Chapel inside the National Gallery of Canada.
Entering the chapel, one feels it is a separate building. The installation is in a windowless, interior, gallery space but the chapel’s walls and ceiling, as well as the artificial light behind it’s simple stained glass windows, removes all sense of the museum surrounding it.
In preparing this post I stumbled across one tidbit that is as bizarre as it is ironic. “Spem in alium” is included in the score of the recent film adaptation of “50 Shades of Grey”. I have not included a link to the piece. It is nine minutes long but those wishing to sample it can find it on iTunes on the “50 Shades of Grey Seductive Soundtrack”. I’m glad I did not know that before visiting the chapel. I don’t think an allusion to the “Grey Nuns of the Cross” was one of the ’50 shades’ intended by E.L. James when she penned her trilogy of soft-core potboilers. I will certainly strive to remove the image from my mind. And I sincerely hope there are not poor French-Canadian nuns somewhere spinning in their graves.
As I am listening, a relatively large woman of color, not particularly well dressed, crossed in front of me pulling a brightly colored, two-wheeled, roller bag; the type one might carry on when flying. What was noteworthy in the scene is that affixed to the top of the roller bag was styrofoam head sporting a wig. The hair was dark, picture Cher in the Sonny years, and hung about halfway down the sides of the bag. There was a light breeze and the owner was walking forward so the tresses flowed gently in the breeze.
Why would someone travel with their wig on the outside of their luggage? Was she afraid it might become gnarled and unkempt-looking had she packed it inside? Might it have been recently washed and allowing it to flow freely in the dry desert air was a good way to dry it? Perhaps it had not been worn recently, or worn too much recently, and it needed to be aired out? I am not well acquainted with the ways of wiggery. And what was inside that bag? Given that the wig did not make the cut to ride inside, the contents of the luggage must be valuable indeed. Inquiring minds want to know these things. At least mine did.
Harper's Valley 