Last night, I had a little piece of heaven: fondue from the people who invented it. I settled for the cheese fondue with pear brandy, served with pears and bread for dipping. It was delicious. Although the fondue restaurant was so busy we had to sit outside without heatlamps. It was chilly. And the people inside looked so warm! But the sterno kept us warm and after all it IS about the cheese. The town is so very cute. Houses date anywhere from 1300s to 1800s and advertise who lived there in keystones located above the doors or windows. Goethe was the one I recognized. It generally looks untouched except for the occasional starbucks.
The men here all look like the bad guys in WWII movies. And since they don't smile, they seem to be up to something. Curious. The women here are exceptionally tall. I have never felt so dwarfed except when I would audition in a roomfull of models. It's a lot like that.
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
The Secret Attic
Amsterdam
March, 2007
There was a girl who lived in an attic for 2 years with her family and 4 others, never making a noise during normal business hours. She longed to go outside and play and breathe the fresh air and feel the sunshine on her face, but she knew that she could not without the dire consequences of having herself and her family taken away. At times she found solace in the chestnut tree that stood outside the old canal house where she was hiding. She could see the leaves from one of the windows. Somehow, she managed to find joy and hope, to dream and to forgive. She wrote about her feelings and her hopes and her dreams not only for herself but for all people in her diary. She was able to transcend her circumstances. But I'm sure she still felt afraid and alone at times.
I had the privilege of standing in the very spot where she slept, looking up to where she must have looked on sleepless nights, staring at the very wooden beam she stared at. I silently shouted out my hopes and fears and dreams into that beam as well. And wondered how many others had done the same.
One of Anne's hopes was to become a journalist when "it was all over." The first thing she wanted to do was to write a book called The Secret Attic. And in spite of all that happened to her, her hiding, her captivity at Bergen-Belsen and ultimately her death at same camp, she in fact did write that book and it was in fact published and has inspired many people all over the world, including me as a young girl and even more so today as I stand in the places she stood, see the things she saw. At the end of the tour, there is a video with a woman who had tossed care packages over the fence of the camp to Anne. She last saw her about a week before she died. And she says in the interview that if only Anne knew that her father was still alive, maybe she'd still have hope and she could have held on a little longer. It was only a month later that the camp was liberated by the Allied forces. But Anne felt alone since her sister died a few weeks earlier from Typhoid. She had been separated from the rest of her family. She was alone. And she lost hope. And she died.
The Anne Frank House invites its guests to sign their name on a leaf of a virtual chestnut tree. In order to become a part of the legacy, a part of that solace from 1944. In signing it, I felt a little less alone and a little more hopeful. Loneliness is as deadly as hope is lifesaving. Perhaps they cancel each other out.
March, 2007
There was a girl who lived in an attic for 2 years with her family and 4 others, never making a noise during normal business hours. She longed to go outside and play and breathe the fresh air and feel the sunshine on her face, but she knew that she could not without the dire consequences of having herself and her family taken away. At times she found solace in the chestnut tree that stood outside the old canal house where she was hiding. She could see the leaves from one of the windows. Somehow, she managed to find joy and hope, to dream and to forgive. She wrote about her feelings and her hopes and her dreams not only for herself but for all people in her diary. She was able to transcend her circumstances. But I'm sure she still felt afraid and alone at times.
I had the privilege of standing in the very spot where she slept, looking up to where she must have looked on sleepless nights, staring at the very wooden beam she stared at. I silently shouted out my hopes and fears and dreams into that beam as well. And wondered how many others had done the same.
One of Anne's hopes was to become a journalist when "it was all over." The first thing she wanted to do was to write a book called The Secret Attic. And in spite of all that happened to her, her hiding, her captivity at Bergen-Belsen and ultimately her death at same camp, she in fact did write that book and it was in fact published and has inspired many people all over the world, including me as a young girl and even more so today as I stand in the places she stood, see the things she saw. At the end of the tour, there is a video with a woman who had tossed care packages over the fence of the camp to Anne. She last saw her about a week before she died. And she says in the interview that if only Anne knew that her father was still alive, maybe she'd still have hope and she could have held on a little longer. It was only a month later that the camp was liberated by the Allied forces. But Anne felt alone since her sister died a few weeks earlier from Typhoid. She had been separated from the rest of her family. She was alone. And she lost hope. And she died.
The Anne Frank House invites its guests to sign their name on a leaf of a virtual chestnut tree. In order to become a part of the legacy, a part of that solace from 1944. In signing it, I felt a little less alone and a little more hopeful. Loneliness is as deadly as hope is lifesaving. Perhaps they cancel each other out.
Friday, March 16, 2007
Make that four...
The second to last time I saw Claire, she was sitting on a bed where everyone was storing coats and purses in the middle of a party. She was giving me great details about some strange events that had occurred in her life including a major breakup and a couple of misdiagnosed illnesses. She showed me her tattoo: the classic lighting bolt with TCB. She felt she was starting to take care of the business of her life.
She had always been such an inspiration to me as a budding improviser in Nashville and then Chicago. She is the one who signed me up for comedy classes where I met Rich Jeni (see last post.) She convinced me to do Second City.
The last time I saw Claire, she was in a parking lot in Sherman Oaks, Ca with her mom. I was going to lunch on a break from an acting workshop that I have no memory if. (Must have been good.) She looked confused and a little desperate. But then again, she had a flat tire. So would I.
And so Claire bought the ticket on Elvis airlines last week. Diabetes.
TCB, Claire.
She had always been such an inspiration to me as a budding improviser in Nashville and then Chicago. She is the one who signed me up for comedy classes where I met Rich Jeni (see last post.) She convinced me to do Second City.
The last time I saw Claire, she was in a parking lot in Sherman Oaks, Ca with her mom. I was going to lunch on a break from an acting workshop that I have no memory if. (Must have been good.) She looked confused and a little desperate. But then again, she had a flat tire. So would I.
And so Claire bought the ticket on Elvis airlines last week. Diabetes.
TCB, Claire.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
They come in threes
Monday, three people who in some way touched my life did so once again in the most profound way possible. They died.
Actually, they did not all die on the same day, but I found out about their deaths within 6 hours on Monday afternoon.
First up was a seasoned stand-up, a regular on late night shows, sometimes actor and all around good guy. I had the privilege of dining with him in 1990 in Chicago and getting to ride in his limo. He was kind and attentive, listening to me ramble on about emergency rooms and the general state of medical care. He encouraged me to create stand-up bits out of my own experiences, something I was never able to do. Mostly because I never thought I or my experiences were funny. Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome your headliner tonight, Richard Jeni!
A few hours later I was shocked to learn that the sandwich guy at work, Chef Johnny, found out he had liver cancer and promptly died 8 days later. He was an energetic man with a fondness for the ladies, unless he was in a cranky mood in which case he had a fondness for no one. He used to make me a special turkey sandwich with cranberry sauce until they stopped carrying cranberries. Bon Appetit, Chef.
Finally, at the end of the day I learned that Karen was gone. She was the wife of the guy who directed Brother Bear and animated most of the Disney movies you know. The recent ones, he's young. He and his wife shared among other things long blonde hair. I always loved that. And when she lost hers from the chemo, he shaved his head in solidarity. She was a beautiful soul. The sort of person you instantly feel comfortable with and the sort of person that inspired you to be better. I will always regret not going to see her in the hospital. I think I was hoping she would just get better and I would see her at parties as I always did. The world just seems a little more harsh.
We are born and we die and in between are good times and bad times. Hopefully, more good. And those are the ones we try to remember. Those are the ones we hope others will remember about us. I have a lot of remembering to do.
Actually, they did not all die on the same day, but I found out about their deaths within 6 hours on Monday afternoon.
First up was a seasoned stand-up, a regular on late night shows, sometimes actor and all around good guy. I had the privilege of dining with him in 1990 in Chicago and getting to ride in his limo. He was kind and attentive, listening to me ramble on about emergency rooms and the general state of medical care. He encouraged me to create stand-up bits out of my own experiences, something I was never able to do. Mostly because I never thought I or my experiences were funny. Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome your headliner tonight, Richard Jeni!
A few hours later I was shocked to learn that the sandwich guy at work, Chef Johnny, found out he had liver cancer and promptly died 8 days later. He was an energetic man with a fondness for the ladies, unless he was in a cranky mood in which case he had a fondness for no one. He used to make me a special turkey sandwich with cranberry sauce until they stopped carrying cranberries. Bon Appetit, Chef.
Finally, at the end of the day I learned that Karen was gone. She was the wife of the guy who directed Brother Bear and animated most of the Disney movies you know. The recent ones, he's young. He and his wife shared among other things long blonde hair. I always loved that. And when she lost hers from the chemo, he shaved his head in solidarity. She was a beautiful soul. The sort of person you instantly feel comfortable with and the sort of person that inspired you to be better. I will always regret not going to see her in the hospital. I think I was hoping she would just get better and I would see her at parties as I always did. The world just seems a little more harsh.
We are born and we die and in between are good times and bad times. Hopefully, more good. And those are the ones we try to remember. Those are the ones we hope others will remember about us. I have a lot of remembering to do.
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
In Charm's Way
Yesterday was an incredibly bizarre day, in the best sense.
I rushed off the work at 9:30 which is the earliest I have been in since early January. But yesterday was the first of four sculpture classes with my friend, Dan. If you saw Dan, he'd look vaguely familiar since he resembles the I, Robot robots that he sculpted. I was very excited about my first sculpting class and it did not disappoint. Dan showed us how to use basic tools and work with Scuply clay. Our assignment is to model the head of Jack Skellington from Nightmare Before Christmas, which is pretty basic. What is even more exciting is that in the class is Mike Belzer who was an animator on said film. At the break he brought in some actual Jack heads he had left over from the movie. He answered all our questions about the making of the film and how they did things. All while we sculpted away.
It was amazing fun and I was so jazzed, I carried that into my therapy session which followed immediately. When I got back to work, I was thrilled to be asked to witness a wedding in the Remembrance Garden right outside the building. Seems that Marlon's friends he had married on Hawaii had to redo the ceremony and sign the papers again. Something didn't translate from the Hawaii wedding. It was such a cute, fun little wedding with their daughter Ruby playing the whole time. As Marlon was doing the paperwork, I learned that the couple is actually from Seattle and were familiar with all the Seattle places I love. I had to stop short of telling them where I got married. For the first time, I wasn't able to tell my wedding story which I am so proud of. That was hard.
After a fiscal check up with the financial advisor, Ben, I headed home to work on my trip to Europe. Over my street was a bright, shiny sphere. I thought it was the full moon until I realized it was only about 30 feet in the air. Apparently a lighting company was testing a new type of theatrical light. And so there I was booking a hotel in Zurich while a fake moon shone overhead on me and my half finished sculpture.
Such is life.
I rushed off the work at 9:30 which is the earliest I have been in since early January. But yesterday was the first of four sculpture classes with my friend, Dan. If you saw Dan, he'd look vaguely familiar since he resembles the I, Robot robots that he sculpted. I was very excited about my first sculpting class and it did not disappoint. Dan showed us how to use basic tools and work with Scuply clay. Our assignment is to model the head of Jack Skellington from Nightmare Before Christmas, which is pretty basic. What is even more exciting is that in the class is Mike Belzer who was an animator on said film. At the break he brought in some actual Jack heads he had left over from the movie. He answered all our questions about the making of the film and how they did things. All while we sculpted away.
It was amazing fun and I was so jazzed, I carried that into my therapy session which followed immediately. When I got back to work, I was thrilled to be asked to witness a wedding in the Remembrance Garden right outside the building. Seems that Marlon's friends he had married on Hawaii had to redo the ceremony and sign the papers again. Something didn't translate from the Hawaii wedding. It was such a cute, fun little wedding with their daughter Ruby playing the whole time. As Marlon was doing the paperwork, I learned that the couple is actually from Seattle and were familiar with all the Seattle places I love. I had to stop short of telling them where I got married. For the first time, I wasn't able to tell my wedding story which I am so proud of. That was hard.
After a fiscal check up with the financial advisor, Ben, I headed home to work on my trip to Europe. Over my street was a bright, shiny sphere. I thought it was the full moon until I realized it was only about 30 feet in the air. Apparently a lighting company was testing a new type of theatrical light. And so there I was booking a hotel in Zurich while a fake moon shone overhead on me and my half finished sculpture.
Such is life.
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