Positive Economic Signs

We're living through tough economic times and this has lead a number of people to worry that we might be heading toward a "worst case scenario." We've seen the housing bubble burst and take with it the precariously balanced financial sector. So, are we headed for a depression? I don't think so. Here's why.

We've been hearing news reports about how unemployment is at its highest rate in twenty-five years and how the housing market is worse than it's been since the early '80s. But let's think about that. If conditions are at the level they were in the early '80s, they aren't THAT bad. We were going through a recession, that's true, but it wasn't anywhere near as bad as the early '30s. The energy crisis of the early '70s was worse than what we went through in 1981 and what we're going through today. So basically, we're not even close to the kind of economic downturn that lead us into the Great Depression.

But just because things aren't as bad as they were in the '30s doesn't mean we're not heading in that direction -- right? Well, let's see if there are any economic indicators that suggest that the recession might be finding its bottom.

New housing starts surged 22% in February. That figure hasn't risen for eight months. http://money.cnn.com/2009/03/17/real_estate/housing_starts/index.htm?postve...

The Producer Price Index -- the measure of what domestic producers receive for their goods -- not counting the volatile food and energy sectors, rose .1% in February, up from .08% in January and higher than expected. http://money.cnn.com/2009/03/17/news/economy/producer_prices.reut/index.htm::QM:...

Bank of America, Citigroup, and JPMorgan Chase all reported profitability for January and February. Three institutions whose fear of failure brought on a large portion of the doom on Wall Street are already operating in the black. http://money.cnn.com/2009/03/13/markets/thebuzz/index.htm

General Motors "discovered" that they have more cash on hand than they originally estimated and thus do not need the additional bailout funds they called for a couple of weeks ago. The restructuring they started to implement as a requisite for receiving their initial infusion of funds is starting to pay off. They are already on their way to profitability. http://money.cnn.com/2009/03/12/news/companies/gm_cash/index.htm

Sure there are still signs that our economy is in the throes of recession. There are signs that we may not have hit bottom yet. We're still receiving news of further layoffs and of companies floundering and failing. But unlike two or three months ago, we're receiving positive economic news as well. We may still have some suffering ahead, but at least the recovery is in sight.

Saturday Night Show

In short, the show went fabulous. All the actors were in character throughout the entire evening, even during the dinner portion, and the audience responded very, very well. The show started the second they walked in the door. Two greeters gave each guest a secret pass-phrase and showed them a secret handshake. They then walked down a hallway to two more greeters who were waiting to let them in. We weren't sticklers about knowing either the pass-phrase of the handshake, but it did give us some time to tease the guests and thus set the tone for the evening.

From 6:30 until 7:00, or so, we all circulated among the guests, joking with them, in character, and offering water and coffee. Since my character is a drunk, I especially had fun when it came to pouring their choice of beverage.

"I'm sorry, but I'm gonna hafta wait until your cup stops spinning before I can pour your coffee."

All of the guests played along wonderfully and made the show such an enjoyable experience.

Tomorrow is the final night. Saturday we had 58 guests and we're expected to have as many as 20 more than that tomorrow. Even though the other show went so well, I'm still a tad nervous -- mostly because this time, we both have to work all day and I'm worried that we might not have the energy level we had Saturday. Oh well, one way or another, in a mere 25 hours from right now, our 2009 St. Patrick's Day show will be history.

My New Nickname

Susan and I like making up words to describe things. Sure, we have a lot of adjectives already, but there's always room for more. For instance, if something is big and ugly, it's bugly. If something is rough and yellow, it's rellow. Well, early this morning, Susan came up with a word for me. From here on out, I'm referred to by her as cevil (pronounced KEY-ville). It's a cross between cute and evil. Now mind you, I'm not the really bad evil that runs over dogs, beats up old ladies, or fails to put down the toilet seat cover. I'm the other kind of evil. The one that just can't seem to stop tickling the love of his life. Yep, Susan is intensely ticklish and even though I'm a generally decent person, I just can't get enough of tickling her. So, from here on out, I'm cevil.

Tonight's The Night

My blog title reminds me of the Rod Stewart song...

Tonight's the night.
It's gonna be alright.
Cause I love you girl,
Ain't nobody gonna stop us now.

Tonight Susan and I will be taking part in our first play together. It's a rather small one. I only have five lines and Susan doesn't have any, but we do each have a vital part. Susan will be a "serving wench," actually helping to serve the dinner to the forty or so guests in attendance and I will be the town drunk.

I talked to Debi Neville, the organizer of this event, if we can film it and I have her approval. We're not going to be filming this evening, though, as she thinks we'll be more comfortable and give a better performance on our second night. We're going to be filming with my panasonic camcorder. It's a bit old, but it should be sufficient for this show. As soon as we get it streamed to YouTube, I'll post the link here.

The final dress rehearsal went well this afternoon. This is the first play for a couple of us and so there were some butterflies about, but all in all, we have a wonderful crew and I'm looking forward to a good show tonight.

The food that they're serving this evening is corned beef and cabbage, fresh loaves of bread, cheese blocks, and some kind of potato dish that I know they told me but for the life of me, I can't seem to remember now. Since it's a dinner theater and the premise of the show is a secret potato party during the Irish famine of the 1840's, we bar patrons are going to have our own table and get to share in the food. The serving wenches too. I don't know how much of it I'll be eating, though, as I can't stand cabbage and I'm thinking I might be too wired to eat while the show's going on.

At the very end of the play, after we thank the guests for coming, all of the cast is going to sing the first verse of When Irish Eyes Are Smiling. Susan and I have been trying to get down the exact words all day and for some reason, we keep getting stuck on the final line. Hopefully we won't tonight.

When Irish eyes are smiling,
sure, tis like a morn in spring.
In the lilt of Irish laughter,
you can hear the angels sing.

When Irish hearts are happy,
all the world seems bright and gay.
And when Irish eyes are smiling,
sure they steal your heart away.

As I write this, we go live in an hour and a half. We've gone over the script, the Irish birthday blessing we'll be giving to one of the guests, and the song we'll be singing at the end. We're as ready as we're ever going to be. So, I hope that your thoughts will be with us as we break a leg or knock 'em dead or whatever we're supposed to do. And that brings me back to Rod Stewart's song, Tonight's the night...

Kick off your shoes and sit right down.
Loosen off that pretty French gown.
Let me pour you a good long drink.
Ooh baby don't you hesitate cause,

Tonight's the night.
It's gonna be alright.
Cause I love you girl,
Ain't nobody gonna stop us now

Yep, tonight's the night. Ain't nobody gonna stop us now!

Worth More than Any Computer

Something happened to our laptop computer yesterday. Susan thinks it may have had something to do with a spill she had near it, but honestly, I didn't see any sign that anything had gotten underneath the keys. And even if it was caused by her spill, the computer is almost three years old and is starting to act up.

Last night, when she told me about what happened, she was mad at herself and the look on her face made me want to cry. The only thing I could do was hug the hell out of her and make her understand that no matter what, she is worth more than any silly old computer.

When we went to bed last night, the U, I, and G keys were not working. Earlier the F key hadn't been working either, but it started responding after we had come back from dress rehearsal for that play we're doing for St. Patrick's Day. So, since the F key started working again, and if the keys not working were because of a spill, I thought there might be a chance of the other ones coming back as well.

I talked to Susan at lunch and she said that it's still not working right. We need a computer though. So at lunch, I went to Best Buy and bought a new one. Due to the economy, it wasn't the best one they have or as fast or powerful as I would have liked, but it is better than the one I bought three years ago and it will keep us computing for the time being.

Even if I couldn't have afforded to get a replacement, though, there is no way that a silly machine could ever be worth more than the wonderful woman named Susan who shares her life with me.

When Fame Goes Too Far

Picture the scene: thousands of enthusiastic fans, chanting and waiving their arms, hollering, singing, and cheering as a group while their hero, YOU, walks out on stage and does whatever it is you do so well. Then, silence. Every eye is upon you. Every being in the packed venue waits at rapt attention while you pan the room, taking in the adulation.

Some would want the above and some would not, but lets face it, don't we all have a certain longing to be recognized as the best, or almost the best, at something? Isn't there some aspect of our lives, some feature of our dreams that wouldn't shine with some well-earned recognition? I think most, if not all, would answer with an honest yes -- as long as it didn't go too far.

What's too far?

If you and your significant other have a child and the wages that one picture of your newborn garners would elevate a McDonald's cashier up and out of President Obama's $250,000 tax break window, you're fame has gone too far.

If the only things on the planet too expensive for you to purchase come with a numbered seat at the United Nations General Assembly, a Capitol building, and a constitution your fame has gone too far.

If you give up a successful, award-winning career as a motion picture actor in exchange for jumping around on a stage, sputtering unintelligible phrases, and picking fights with drunk concert-goers, your fame has gone too far.

Joaquin Phoenix, dude, please, whatever it is you took, whatever it is you swallowed, no matter what the source was or how much you trusted the person who gave it to you, please, put down the pills, put down the needle, put down the bottle, put down whatever and GET HELP SOON!

It Nearly Brought Me To Tears

Last night we attended the awards ceremony for the 2009 Chi-Shu Award Writing Contest. Helen Chen, the founder and organizer of the event, decorated the library's auditorium and brought cookies and coffee. She also brought her signature enthusiasm for writing and writing oriented events -- she's a fabulous hostess.

After warming up the audience with a short speech, sprinkled with humor and humanity, she introduced the three judges and directed them to introduce the four winners. First up was Faith Slater, winner of the honorable mention with her story, Lest Thieves Find a Way. She was introduced by judge, David Fingerman. He mentioned his love for horror stories and science fiction and compared her story to a coming of age Harry Potter. Helen handed her a manila envelope that held her certificate and shook her hand as she approached the podium to read her winning entry.

Afterward, Helen invited another of the judges, Penny Duffy, to introduce the third place winner -- ME! Her words for my story nearly brought tears to my eyes. Here they are, exactly as she said them:

Up a flight of steps to his destiny. This is the story of Pedro Jimenez. We are immersed in Pedro's desperation, longing, his fears, frustrations, and high and low expectations from the opening paragraphs -- every well-chosen image and detail adding to our sense of the man and his plight. Equally important, we are transported into his world view through the expert rendering of his narrative voice on the page. What drives a story? Is it plot or character? Well, it's both. We want to find out what happens to Pedro, yes, but we care what happens because from the start our heart goes out to him. When you care enough, the character's fate stays with you long after you reach the end of the narrative -- in this case, long after Pedro descends the stairway -- and that is the mark of a really good story. Let's listen as author Tom Harper starts Pedro on his journey in his well-crafted story, "The Red Stamp."

WOW! I approached the podium, still awed at the wonderful introduction Penny had given me. Helen handed me my envelope with my prize money and certificate and then I read my story. I don't know how many things in life are more satisfying then sharing a creative piece of myself to an appreciative audience, but I'm sure that I could count them all on my hands and toes.

As I shared my story to the audience, which consisted of Susan and her daughters -- Rachael and Sarah -- my mom, members of the three writing groups I attend, and others who I'm sure will one day be friends, I felt so warm and at peace.

After I read my story, Helen once again called for David to come up and introduce the 2nd place winner. The third judge, Ryan Shriver, couldn't make the ceremony due to his wife having given birth to their third child a few days earlier.

Again reminding us of his love for horror stories, judge David told us why he had chosen Betty Benner's warm-hearted story, The Unexpected Gift, as one of the best of the contest. It touched him. Betty, with her warm, welcoming smile that reminds me of everything good about grandmas and chocolate chip cookies, made her way to the podium, accepted her prize envelope from Helen, and shared with us her touching story.

Then it was time for an intermission. There were plenty of cookies and plenty of coffee and plenty of people to mingle with while enjoying the goodies. The intermission lasted about fifteen minutes and then Helen called the meeting back to order. She invited Penny, once again, to introduce the first place winner, Kit Rohrbach, for her psychological thriller, The Red Hat. Penny did another marvelous job introducing her and Kit grabbed the hall's attention with the reading of her fast-moving, spine-tingling, edge-of-your-seat-inviting masterpiece.

We congregated for a half hour or so after the ceremony to talk and then eight of us, the four winners included, made our way to Perkins for a celebratory late-night snack. The food was sumptious. The atmosphere was delightful. But most of all, being with friends, fellow creative souls, sharing jokes, and poems, and pieces of what makes us tick added the most delicious whipped cream topping to the chocolate sundae that was last night. And the cherry? The cherry of the evening was getting to go home afterward with Susan and fall asleep in her arms.

A Poem for Alfred Booth

I promised Alfred Booth that I would sharpen my pencil and make an attempt at his latest favorite, the Cleave poem. So it is only fitting that my first one be dedicated to him.

Master Cleaver

Alfred Booth twitters -- the whole world flitters

across the daunted page -- as though upon a stage

with words so rich with meaning -- of drama's din not weaning

never failing to enthrall -- right through the curtain call

A Poem

Word Theatre

Supposition, I suppose, is worse than puppy pantyhose.

Indecision, I decide, is something I sometimes deride.

Aberrations, normally, are things I follow faithfully.

Prevarications, I attest, are often more true than the rest.

Too Much Information?

Susan doesn't like to cut her toe nails. I didn't know this when we first started dating but it didn't take me long to figure it out. NO! Not like that, you perverts. I found it out in a round about way. I was looking for her and couldn't find her.

"Have you seen your mom," I asked one of her daughters.

Sarah or Rachael or Liz or maybe it was the dog -- or the cat? -- shrugged and said, "She's getting a coconut."

I replied, "She went to the store?"

Whoever it was, pointed to a tall Palm Tree that lined our street and responded, "No, she's climbing that."

Yeah, they really do get that long. Because she doesn't like to cut them herself. She's not too thrilled to have me do it either, but then there has been a precedent set. I have been known to go for more than just the nails. That's what you get when you get a non-union pedicurist.

Do pedicurists belong to a union? If they go on strike, can they do their own feet? If they don't do their own feet, isn't there a danger that they could cross the picket line unintentionally?

Blogging Every Day

How do you people who blog every day do it? How do you find so many things to talk about? I'd love to have a topic du jour but some days I simply don't have anything to say. Well, that's not totally accurate, but I don't have anything to say that I feel is particularly interesting.

Do blogs have to be interesting? Do I have to make a point or announce something or share a piece of long lost wisdom? Because I don't see how I'm going to manage thirty-one days of blogging in a row if each one of them have to make sense and make a point.

So please tell me: Do I have to make a point? Do I have to be interesting? Do I have to be funny, engaging, or informational? Because if I do, I think I'm way over my head here.

More Ado About Nothing

We had our second rehearsal for the play last night. It went very well although I still don't have all of my lines memorized. We have two more full practices before going live so I'm not too worried about that yet, but I will need to find some time to get my lines embedded in my brain this weekend.

I talked to Debi Neville, the organizer of the play, and she said that we should be able to film and stream to YouTube at least the first showing. I'll let everyone know more about that as soon as I do.

A story about the play, as well as a photo of the cast, was in yesterday's paper. The story is on-line too, but unfortunately, they didn't put the photo on-line, so I'll have to scan if I want to upload it to the web.

Thanks for the wonderful comments everyone. I appreciate them very much.

Wonderful Evening

I had a wonderful privilege last night. I was blessed to watch my favorite poet read her work. I didn't even have to travel that far as it happened at our local poetry group. Our group, Southeastern Minnesota Poets, meets the first Wednesday of the month at 6:30pm. We usually spend the first half hour or so taking care of whatever business we have, like dues, upcoming conventions, or art shows we'd like to take part in, and then we dive into the poetry reading. We take turns, round robin style, and usually go around to or three times so that everyone can share their latest masterpieces.

Last night, my favorite poet, Susan David, read two of the poems she wrote when we went to the Wood Tick Poetry Retreat last July. I so adore watching her read. She has the most darling look on her face and she pours so much emotion and imagery in such a small amount of space. It's a truly wonderful sight to behold.

O'Reilley's Riot

Céad Míle Fáilte - Irish Greeting

Last night we had the first dress rehearsal for O'Riley's Riot, the play Susan and I will be performing in for St. Patrick's Day. Unfortunately, due to an important meeting regarding Sarah's dance team, Susan couldn't attend. But the rest of the cast had a very nice run-through and everyone's looking forward to going live on the 14th and 17th.

May neighbours respect you,

Trouble neglect you,

The angels protect you,

And heaven accept you.

Irish Blessing

The scripted portion of the play is rather short, about a half hour, but we will be on stage, as it were, for somewhere around two to three hours. I guess you could call what we're doing dinner theatre, because we'll be performing while the guests are eating, but it's actually a bit more than that. Our aim is to create the feel of a secret potato party during the Irish famine of the 1860s. From the hushed manner we greet the guests at the door, demanding a password, to the playful way we engage them during dinner, we're going to attempt to bring the audience back in time.

It's no use boiling your cabbage twice. - Irish Proverb

Even the dinner will be part of the props. The main course is corned beef and cabbage with lumpers (potatoes) on the side. There will be cheese blocks and bread at each table and the serving wenches will be passing out water and coffee. Actually, all of the people, with the exception of O'Riley himself, will take part in the serving. This will provide us the opportunity to share a limerick or a wee bit of Irish wisdom with the people.

There are only three kinds of Irish men who don't understand women: young men, old men, and those of middle age. - Irish Saying

We have a three piece band, a jig performing bard, and more Irish wit and wisdom than a convention of Leprechauns. There will even be a special appearance by the Molly McQuires. And let me tell you, a homiler bunch of faux-women has never been assembled. I wish everyone reading this could attend, but for those of you who can't, Susan and I will be sure to regale the highlights, and lowlights, in a couple of weeks.

Wherever you go and whatever you do,

May the luck of the Irish be there with you.

Irish Blessing

And if you're wondering about the meaning of the greeting at the top of this entry, Céad Míle Fáilte - well don't you have the luck of the Irish, because I'm about to tell you. It means one hundred thousand welcomes in Irish and is a fairly common greeting in Ireland to this day.

There was a young lady of Trent,

Who said that she knew what it meant

When men asked her to dine

With cocktails and wine,

She knew, oh she knew! But she went.

In honor of the late Dr. Seuss's birthday and the final entry in my friend Kay's blog, "The End"

Do you know of a lady who calls her-self Kay?
Do you know of the mission she's called for to-day?
She's called for a mission to honor the Seuss.
To honor the wonderful male Mother Goose.

To the ends of the earth her comission was sent.
Through the hands of the earthlings, from missus to gent.
It went to the keepers of quarries and frogs.
It went to the writers of stories and blogs.

When the keepers of quarries examined the call,
When they'd studied the words from the large to the small,
They had to proclaim, "this just isn't for us."
"The only skill we have with words is to cuss."

So the keepers of frogs took a look at the job.
With a fervor they studied the job as a mob.
But to their dismay they just could not create,
A single last paragraph, sentence or phrase.

It was then that the writers of stories arrived,
With their pens and their paper and heroes contrived.
They set forth to write a short story to show,
To show that they know how a story should flow.

"In a far away land," they began their brief tale.
"From a long time a-go," their brave hero set sail.
He battled large dragons and saved a fair lass,
He traipsed and he traveled and talked to an ass.

Before anyone knew what had just taken place,
The short story had grown at a quite daunting pace.
The number of pages continued to rise,
Surpassing five-hundred and seventy-five.

When they finished the rough draft they set out to see,
How much time it would take them to edit the beast.
But editing quickly was not possible;
With typos and plot holes the story was full.

Now the writers of stories all re'lized their goof.
So they packed up their bags and took off all aloof.
That left just the bloggers to tackle this task.
And bloggers are willing, you just have to ask.

Chi-Shu Award Writing Contest

Last Thursday I received an email from Helen Chen. She is the organizer of our local library's writing group and the underwriter of an annual short story competition called the Chi-Shu Award Writing Contest. The subject of her email was Congratulations!!! I won third place.

This is the third year of the contest and my second time placing. I placed third the first year it was held with "Wanting to see MLK" . I wasn't organized enough last year to enter but four good friends of mine placed or received honorable mentions, three of which are part of our local writer's club, Writer's Ink.

My story that won third place this year was "The Red Stamp" . It's about a young Mexican National going through the harrowing and disheartening process of seeking a VISA to the United States.

My other story that won was also written from the POV of a minority of which I'm not a member. It was written about a young black boy wanting to attend an equal rights demonstration during the '60s.

Apparently, I do a better job when I'm writing from a different POV than my own.

Minnesota Speech Competition

Susan loves High School Speech. She participated in it as a student, with many trophies, plaques, and ribbons to show for her efforts and then taught it as an instructor and coach. So it was only natural for her to sign up to be a judge once she moved here to Minnesota. Yesterday, she had her first meet and I drove along with to give her support. It turned out good that I went, too, because they were short assistants and so I was able to help her time the performances.

Minnesota has 13 categories of competition, from creative expression to original oratory. Each student presents their speech with other contestants from the same category to three separate judges over three rounds. Because of the large amount of students participating, each of the categories had multiple competitions taking place at the same time. Susan judged a different category for each of the three rounds and was also assigned one for the finals.

The first category Susan covered was Extemporaneous Speaking. Those of you who have participated in high school speech competitions, will probably know exactly how that works, but here's a brief explanation for the rest of you. The school chose fifteen different topics and provided research material for each of the fifteen. Basically, each student selected a topic randomly and then had a half hour to develop a speech based on their experience and the material available in the research bin. Before the competition, each student was assigned a time to perform their speech and the times were staggered so that no student would have more than the allotted thirty minutes to undertake their research. As you can imagine, all of the speeches were kind of choppy but it was still very easy to tell which of the students had received quality coaching and which had not.

The second category that Susan covered was Great Speeches. The students had to choose a famous speech from history and in eight minutes, explain why that speech could be considered great. The students dissected speeches from FDR, Hilary Clinton, Patrick Henry, Charles Darrow, and others. I enjoyed this segment of the program very much and learned a bit both about the mechanics of speech development and more than a little history.

The third category that Susan covered was Dramatic Interpretation. The students had to choose a play and after a brief introduction on what the play meant to them, perform a section of it. They had eight minutes. This was the category that had the widest divergence of talent and quality. I enjoyed it very much but all of the contestants except one, chose to do a monologue scene. I was kind of hoping to see different characters but I did have a good time watching the performances and two of them, especially, left me awed.

After each of the three rounds, Susan had to turn in her scores to the tabulation table. I can't remember the name of the guy in charge of tabbing, but he used one of my jokes when we first met him and it gave Susan and I both quite a chuckle. Not that the joke is that funny, mind you, but it's kind of cheesy and I'd never heard anyone else do it before.

Once the rounds were completed, lunch of Sloppy Joes and baked beans was supplied to the judges and they let me take part as well. Then we had to play a waiting game. Not all of the judges would be needed for the final round and since a judge couldn't oversee an event where a student from the same school made it to the finals in that category, they had to wait for the tabulation to be completed before they could assign the judges. Each of the thirteen events was tabulated separately and then the judges for that category chosen and hung on the wall of the judges lounge.

By the time we finished eating, the results for four of the categories had been determined. Susan wasn't a judge for any of those. The rest of the categories trickled in, about one every five minutes or so. She wasn't on the fifth or the sixth. She wasn't on the seventh, eighth, ninth, or tenth either. The eleventh didn't need her. Nor the twelfth. Then they hung the final sheet. And sure enough, there was N6, Susan's judging code.

The category was OO (Original Oratory) and Susan was excited about it because it was the very same category that her daughter, Rachael, competed at back when she was in school. I'm not sure exactly what they judge on when it comes to this category, but all of the eight speeches were good. My favorite was an upbeat talk about the importance of tolerance. There was one about human trafficking, one about the prevalence of sexual themes in children's advertising, one about the importance of growing food at home, and four others ranging from politics to positive thinking. Once the judging was complete and the scores turned in for tabulation, we headed out to the parking lot for the hour drive back home. We could have stayed around another hour to see the award ceremony but we were both beat and since this was Susan's first time judging for Rochester John Marshall, we didn't know any of the students who were competing.

Even though I was little more than a spectator, I had a lot of fun. I loved seeing Susan do what she excels at and I was so proud of her as I glanced over her shoulder and read the comments she made on the various critique sheets. Her caring and kindness showed through brightly. No matter how good or bad the performance was, she always found at least one positive thing to mention about each speech. She's a true treasure and I'm so glad I spent my Saturday watching her shine.