Dropped Names, Part IV, the last installment

I have realized what an unusual autobiography this “Dropped Names” project offers me—a sort-of look at my life with some odd encounters with famous people. Let’s now travel back to the summer of 1986, the summer I graduated from Denison, the summer I visited college friend Sarah in Manhattan (!!!!) and the summer I then moved to North Carolina to begin my teaching career.

Loving cast     I had always had a disdain for soap operas…I needn’t list the reasons, but you could probably guess yourself. But while I was in college a new soap opera debuted with a TV-movie and I thought I would watch the evening movie, laugh at the conventions of the “art form” and move on. Well, I got hooked. (I will whisper this next bit, since it is a little embarrassing: I even made one semester schedule around seeing Loving in my dorm room—no VCRs yet…) So when I discovered that the set of the soap was just a couple blocks from Sarah’s house, I made a beeline over to the ABC studio to hang out by the door. Sarah and I made an afternoon of it, meeting many of the cast, enjoying a chat, gushing over how I enjoyed the show. One older actress on the show, after I said I watched it every day, said, “Don’t you have anything else to do, dear?” Well, eventually low ratings sank the show, they killed off every character (seriously!) and renamed the show, The City. I stopped watching then.

Barbara Walters       My first encounter with Ms. Walters was actually through a letter. My college friend Jill had gotten a job at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston, and when I was visiting, Jill showed me a letter from none-other than Barbara Walters. Walters had loaned a Corot painting to the MFA, but now that she was getting divorced, the painting went to the ex in the settlement. Walters wrote to the MFA telling them she needed it back so she could hand it over. Jill was reluctant to show me the letter because Barbara’s phone number was on the stationery and she thought I might memorize the number and call Barbara up! I did memorize the number, but I exercised restraint and never called her. I have some sense. A decade later, at the posh Carlyle Hotel, I found myself seated two people away from Ms. Walters at one of Barbara Cook’s concerts. I almost went over and spoke to her, telling her how she had been such a pioneer for women on television, but I decided she didn’t need to hear that from me. See! More restraint! Instead I just ogled at her small waist and how daintily she ate her pasta.

Elaine Stritch             “Strichy,” as Noel Coward called her, is a bombastic, Broadway icon. I have seen her in many of her shows. One night, while seeing a play revival on Broadway, I had a cough and when intermission ended, I hung back by the standing room in case the cough persisted. As I stood and watched the veteran and formidable actress Marian Seldes emote on stage, none other than Elaine Stritch came up beside me, winked at me, winked at Marian on stage, and whispered to me, “The kid just might make it after all!” I have no idea what she was doing in the back of the theater, but there she was in her trademark black hat and witty, eccentric personality!

Bernadette Peters      This story is among my favorite of all my celebrity encounters. For New Years’ Eve of my senior year of college,1985 going into 1986, my new college friend Sarah invited me to New York for the week. We went to shows and museums and one night Sarah suggested seeing Bernadette Peters in her new smash show, Song and Dance. I whined that I had never liked Peters, but we got standing room tickets for $10 anyway. By the end of Act I, I wanted to be the president of Peters’ fan club! After the show Sarah wanted to see the doorman of the theater, an old friend of hers. He asked if we wanted to go up to Ms. Peters’ dressing room, and I immediately shouted, “Yes!”  We were ushered upstairs, and out of the dressing room came actor Dom Deluise, who gushed, “I taught her everything she knows!” Then we went in, and there she was—she of the big hair and big bosom, and so so tiny and delightful. We talked for about 10 minutes—she couldn’t have been nicer, and she asked us what shows we had seen, hoped to see, and about her show. Several hours before I could hardly have cared less, and now I was a fan for life!

Howard Zinn and Carl Schorske    These two names are two of my favorite historians, and in the 1999-2000 school year both of came to Hackley as guests of mine to talk with my classes. Student Adam Wald asked me about his uncle Carl, in the fall, and I was thrilled to have his Uncle Carl, a great historian of art and history come and talk to our class about Fin-de-Siecle Vienna’s art and politics. A few months later we hosted Howard Zinn, who began his talk to the school with the line, “When I was young, I wanted to change the world, so I became a history teacher.” The crowd laughed—Zinn did not, but went on to explain how he had done his work over the next 50 years. As he spoke, the students saw how this career path had actually changed how History is taught and perceived (remember how he is lauded in Good Will Hunting??) Both of these guys are heroes of mine—how they took the study of history, and deepened and enriched it, and made it about society, and urgency, and questioned the notion of progress. Wow. For years I kept the recorded voicemail from Howard Zinn that began, “Hi John, this is Howard Zinn…”

Maureen McCormack          On a lighter note, one night in the mid-90s I attended Grease in part because Brady Girl-Marcia played Bad Girl-Rizzo on Broadway. After the show I met McCormack at the stage door, recounted my 70s love for The Brady Bunch, and told her that when the show had come to Cincinnati, my hometown, to film at the then-new amusement park, King’s Island I had begged my mother to meet the Bradys. My mother did not take me, and so I wept and wailed that I would never forgive her for that. I did not win the award as the weirdest fan that night, however. There was some strange middle-aged woman who kept creepily repeating: “Maureen, I know your neighbor in California.”  I seem almost normal in comparison.

Kitty Carlisle Hart                Ms. Hart, a grande dame of New York theatrical society, lived to her late 90s, and I spied her several times in the 1990s. One time was at a great theater group, the Drama Department, and their 1990s revival of her husband Moss Hart’s revue, As Thousands Cheer, a 1930s hit that had long been moth-balled. Hart looked regal in her fur stole and diamonds, as everyone else sat comfortable in their jeans and sweaters in the folding-chair downtown theater. I went over to speak to Ms. Hart, told her that I grew up watching her as a panelist on To Tell The Truth. I asked her about those opening nights in the old days, the 1930s, 40s, and 50s, and she wistfully recounted the glamour of those days, looked a little sad about the current state of comfortable theater-going clothes, but looked every inch the socialite she had been for decades. Every time I saw her in the 1990s she looked impeccably dressed and groomed and an icon of exquisite taste. 

Patti Lupone              In 1990 I went to a matinee of Anything Goes and was enchanted by the volcanic talents of Patti Lupone. After the show I went to the stage door, and the doorman asked if I wanted to meet Lupone. Of course! About 10 minutes later a plain woman emerged and asked who wanted to meet her. I did a double-take! On stage she had been as sensuous and dynamic as a human could be allowed to be, but under the wig and make-up seemed a strangely plain human. After that little shock, I talked with Patti Lupone for a little bit, told her that I had written her a fan letter in 1978 when she starred as Eva Peron, and thanked her for her extraordinary performance in Anything Goes. We talked about if the film version of Evita would ever be made, and she sneered that it would most likely never see her starring in the celluloid version. Years and years later, another Sicilian, Madonna, would star in the picture. But oh, Lupone, what a great stage performer!

Kevin Bacon              I went to see The Importance of Being Earnest once starring Lynn Redgrave, and who do you think sat beside me at the play? Kevin Bacon! I wanted to make a joke about the Six Degrees…game, but instead, I let the man be. I did steal many glances at Bacon in his leather jacket and his asymmetrical hair. Again, I acted calm and oh-so—New-York.

Neil Simon                  The autumn of 1984 I spent in Chicago, and one day in front of the Chicago Art Institute I noticed Neil Simon with a young, young woman. He stopped and asked me (maybe I was staring too openly???) what pieces I had liked in the Museum, and I told him the Impressionist exhibit was great (we actually talked for a minute about the Monet haystacks series!). I also told him I had done a scene study of The Odd Couple in a junior-high drama class. He seemed happy with the world and delighted at our conversation. 

John Lewis                 In 2000 I co-taught a class on the Civil Rights era, and we read passages from activist and U.S. Representative John Lewis’ autobiography, Walking With The Wind. Lewis spoke in New York that spring, and several of us went to meet him, get our books signed, and thank him for his long work for the United States people. He was charming, and eager to hear about our course devoted to studying the era in detail. On the cover of his memoir he is in a profile picture from the early 1960s. That night I had a seat seeing him from the profile and it was interesting to see him with that view and think of all he has seen and done in the United States over the last 50+ years.

David Rockefeller     In 2006 I was reading this 90-year old’s memoir of his life and career. If I spent a Sunday in Tarrytown I always went to the church where the Rockefellers attended church (*by the way, not to people-watch—I loved the sermons, the music and the Chagall and Matisse stained glass.). One wintry Sunday I had my head down trying to dodge the gale-force winds, and I ran right into Mr. Rockefeller (yes, by accident!). He was as nice as can be as I apologized, and as he said, “Take care, young man,” I told him I was finishing his book and found his life exciting and inspiring. See how I have matured since my run-in with Sissy Spacek!

Charles Nelson Reilly            One day around the same time I spied the daffy Mr. Reilly on the subway, and I mentioned to him the recent interview when he was nominated for a directing Tony, that he said he didn’t always even read the script as he directed plays. He threw his hand to his head and sighed, “That comment was taken so out of context!” For the next several stops he explained what he really said, and explained his philosophy of directing plays to me.

 

Don Rickles                I mentioned in an earlier email about singer Julius LaRosa, and how in 2004, friend Anne and I went to Las Vegas to see him perform and open for Don Rickles’ comedy act. True to form, Rickles was a riot, and spared no one and no group from his rapier wit. He is hysterical! We met him after the show, and Anne asked him to sit so she could explain how she taught about Don Rickles in her English class, as she taught the novel In Country. (Rickles appears in a TV bit in the work.) Mr. Rickles seemed utterly enchanted with Anne and how un-star crazy she was as she got out her glasses and book, and went into Teacher Mode to explain how he functioned in the book. Watching him watch her was so charming.

JFK, jr.          I had been told that to be real New Yorker you needed to have at least one Kennedy sighting. In the mid-1990s I bumped into JFK, jr. twice. When I attended Brown in 1989, people still spoke about him on campus, and how normal and kind he always was. One day on a sunny day in Central Park, I saw this jogger coming toward me. He had a confidence and charisma even in that mundane act of jogging. Then I realized—it’s John John! I started to think of something to say, perhaps offer sympathy about his mother’s recent death, but in the end, decided to let him be. But as he passed, he made the kind of eye contact that only friendly, caring people make. Eye contact! He wasn’t trying to hide, he wasn’t showing off, he was radiating the charm and avuncular mood for which he was famous. A year or so later, we passed each other on 53^rd Street, and again, he made eye contact and seemed just happy to be alive and passing people, smiling, and offering a friendly nod.

So that’s my list—there may have been more, but those are the people who pop back into my mind from my half century of celebrity-watching in the real world. Our spring break is ending now as I end my list, and my dad and I are poised to travel back together to Jordan tomorrow. Let’s leave the celebrity world and go back to teaching art history and working with faculty in Jordan. Thanks for indulging the trip down memory lane.

 

Dropped Names, Part III

Last week when I wrote the blog entry a few hours before the 86^th annual Academy Awards, I planned to watch the show, as I mentioned. I even talked two young colleagues, Ben and Peter, into coming over at 3:00 AM to watch with me. I got up at 2:45 AM, prepared the Oscar-watching food, the two young ones showed up, and then we spent 90 minutes flipping channels trying to find the Oscars! Ben tried to live-stream them, all to no avail! So, ultimately, there was no Oscar-watching this year…such a shame, oh well, but not tragic…but I did decide that this next edition of “Dropped Names” should feature some of the Oscar winners and nominees I have bumped into (of course, I have already mentioned Al Pacino, Sissy Spacek, George Clooney, Whoopi Goldberg, Helen Hayes and Olivia de Havilland). So let’s see…let’s start with an Oscar winner whose birthday I share—that would be Susan Sarandon.

Susan Sarandon        Way back at Christmas time in 1994, I attended the new A Christmas Carol playing at Madison Square Garden, and who should be sitting beside me, but Susan Sarandon, Tim Robbins, and their children! One unusual costuming note: Susan and Tim were dressed all in black (naturally, in New York) and their children were all in white. Hmmm… Obviously I would think of reasons to turn to my right, discreetly, over the next two hours and check their reactions. I didn’t bother them, but I did love looking at Susan’s gorgeous skin. Ten years later I found myself next to Ms. Sarandon again, at a basketball game, between Hackley School and Dalton (the school where their little children grew up to attend). I almost commented to Ms. Sarandon that we had sat beside each other years ago, but reasoned that she would just stare at me a la Sissy Spacek. I almost told her that we shared the same October 4^th birthday, but in the end, I just sat and cheered when Hackley scored. I was such a non-plussed celeb watcher!

Daniel Day Lewis      This three-time Oscar winner and I were out at the same restaurant one summer night in 2011 in Greenwich Village. I was with the Unger family, one of my favorites in the world, and we noted that we had come in at the same time as Daniel D-L, and just kind of kept watch of him throughout dinner. I made sure we crossed paths, one more time as we left, and he commented to me, “Mate, we came and left at the same time!” I nodded and smiled, again, such a jaded, non-plussed celeb star-gazer!

Sigourney Weaver     The autumn of 1994, when I moved to New York to be a Klingenstein fellow, was a goldmine of celeb sightings—and that fall I went to Brearley School to see a musical. I found myself in line to enter behind a tall, stylish woman, who, wait-a-minute, this was Oscar nominee Sigourney Weaver! I noted that no one acted like they saw the Brearley mom there, but I could also tell that everyone there knew exactly where she was that evening!

Glenn Close   I saw multiple-nominee Glennie jogging in Central Park once, but my favorite encounter with Ms. Close was at a donut shop in Armonk—a shop known for its unbelievably good and in-demand donut treats. The shop had a rule that one could only buy one bag a visit at the shop of the donuts, and Glenn, two people in front of me, pleaded that she wanted more. The weary clerk sighed and responded, “Ms. Close—you know the policy!” I almost volunteered to sell her my bag of the donuts!

Candice Bergen         Years before I loved her in Murphy Brown on TV, this Oscar nominee was in Salzburg, Austria, and we bumped into each other in the American Express office in the Old Town (bumped into each other?? That suggests that Candy and I are old friends!). She was with husband Louis Malle and looked every bit as lovely as one would hope. Again, I kept my cool…

Barbra Streisand       This may be my most tenuous Dropped Name connection, but years ago I spent a weekend with a friend of college friend Jill’s in Connecticut who sold a piece of furniture to Barbra Streisand. Come to think of it, I guess that hardly counts. But I had a great conversation about 17^th century furniture and how the Thirty Years’ War affected furniture production. She said Barbra was a picky buyer.

Liza Minnelli              Liza, oh, Liza, you have been a source of joy and bizarre-behavior for years. I saw Liza in concert several times in the 1980s, and she was always a mesmerizing, riveting performer. However, when I saw her in the late 1990s subbing in Victor/Victoria on Broadway she was in a fog of something and it was a night that I almost gave up theater-going. However, my encounter came when I was in line to enter my favorite NYC cabaret spot, 88s, around 2003, and all of a sudden, a woman cut in line, and brushed past me, going right in. I turned to say something, and noticed that it was La Minnelli herself. While we waited for singer Sally Mayes (who is superb!) I made my way over to Liza’s table to thank her for the concerts of the 80s and her stupendous star quality. She smiled, looked grateful and sincere, and gave me a hug. She also enjoyed the show—I made sure to look over and note her reactions throughout the show!

Jane Fonda                At Brown University, the night before graduation every year is the Campus Dance, and all alumni are invited back every year. I have gone only once, the year I graduated with my Master’s degree from Brown, but the dance was a great affair. I was there with my History peeps and all of a sudden I heard a voice from behind me that I instantly recognized! I turned and there,a few feet away, was Jane Fonda. I went over and said hello (husband at the time Ted Turner is a Brown alum, as was her daughter) and told her that I was a big fan. (I didn’t mention to her that I wrote her for my 7^th grade Oscar project and never heard from her.) I gushed that the year I got into the Oscars—1977—I rooted for her to win for Julia. She was pleasant.

Wendy Hiller             This Oscar winner (she won for Separate Tables in the late 50s) starred in Driving Miss Daisy in London in the summer of 1988, and Tony and I went to see her and then met her afterwards. She was so gracious—insistent that we chat with her while she signed our programs, and asked us about our travels and if we enjoyed the play. I adored her performance and also enjoyed her kindly grande dame persona after the show.

Meryl Streep              Okay, this is maybe me at my most stalker self…I have yet to meet Meryl Streep, although that would be a thrill. But in the fall of 1994 I spent a day at the boarding school Hotchkiss, shadowing a French teacher, and she pointed out Meryl Streep’s son. I made sure I bumped into him during lunch, and almost spoke to him about his wondrous mother, but restrained myself instead. I hope to drop the name Meryl Streep someday!

Celeste Holm              One evening in Manhattan I came across an elegant, older lady, and I realized it was Celeste Holm—an Oscar winner from the mid-1940s. She was outside of Le Bernardin, a wonderful, expensive restaurant. I did decide to go up and speak to Ms. Holm, telling her how much I enjoyed her in a movie, Tom Sawyer, from my childhood, from a TV film about the Presidents, and seeing her in All About Eve. I also confessed that I had watched her in a soap opera (see in the next installment of Dropped Names) when she joined her husband for a few months on the soap. She was thoroughly sweet and a reminder of old Hollywood, old Broadway, early TV, and totally classy and glam. Note to musical theater enthusiasts: Celeste Holm was the original Ado Annie in Oklahoma in 1943. Lovely lady!

So those are my encounters with Oscar winners. There was a summer that I walked around the Turtle Bay area in Manhattan, hoping to bump into 4-time Oscar winner Katharine Hepburn. I never saw her coming out for milk or her dry cleaning! I have seen Oscar winners in plays, but my favorite Oscar-person moment might be watching Joanne Woodward, the director of an agitprop 1930s play in the late 90s, watching her own play she had directed. Splashed across her face was such a love for the work, a pride, an excitement (she had gotten a great performance out of Oscar winner My Cousin Vinny’s Marisa Tomei) and a pure joy. It wasn’t about her being “famous,” but just the thrill of the work.

Tomorrow I will complete my Dropped Names project…

Dropped Names, Part II

If you read the last blog entry, you know that I was enchanted and inspired by Frank Langella’s memoir, Dropped Names, in which he told stories of the famous people he has encountered, known, or spied upon. One of the caveats he made in his book is that he only chose to speak of the dead, so anyone else whose name he might drop, he only speaks of the departed. He tells of a youthful encounter with a friend when they spent a weekend with Jackie Onassis, dinner with Sir John Gielgud, and the like. As my old friend Dawn Wilbers reminded me, I have had encounters with famous people. Now, none may be as exciting or infamous as Langella (Anne Bancroft does not come off well!) but they have been a fun chain of sightings and encounters in restaurants, theaters, or even rest rooms. I don’t subscribe to Langella’s rule about the departed, many of mine are still living! I also don’t wonder if my name will pop up in any of their memoirs!

Sarah Jessica Parker This is the celebrity I knew the best at one time and whose generosity touched my life as well. Way, way back in my youth I met several members of the Parker family, all whose children went to the Cincinnati version of the “Fame School.”I sat by Toby in the All-City Boy Choir, and then in a Saturday drama program for children at the Conservatory, I met Rachel and Sarah Jessica Parker. Their slightly bohemian mother would drop them off, talk with the other cool, east-side moms, and then pick up her brood after the drama class or rehearsal. Rachel came to rehearsal one day especially excited—Sarah Jessica had chosen been chosen to be one of the orphans in the long-running Broadway hit, Annie!! Someone that I knew was headed to Broadway! Rachel and I spent that summer doing Charlie and the Chocolate Factory on the Showboat Majestic, dreaming of the work that SJ, and then brother Toby (he had been cast in a show called Runaways) were doing in New York. Sarah Jessica played the Annie role for a long time, established a scholarship in her name at the Conservatory, and that paid for my drama classes for a while. That was quite kind—for a stretch of the early 1980s we exchanged Christmas cards. Then she got a TV show! Someone from my drama class with Kay King had gotten the lead in a TV show! About a decade later, when I was in New York for the Klingenstein Fellowship, I saw Sarah Jessica in a hilarious play, wrote her a letter, reminding her of our childhood connection, thanked her for the scholarship help, and praised her performance. I never heard from her again…but back in the late 70s, we all loved our drama work together.

Julius LaRosa In the last century there have been a number of hot, handsome, young male singers. Over the decades, there have been no shortage of ‘Justin Biebers’ who come and go. One of the hottest, young male singers in the 1950s was Julius LaRosa, a fixture on the Arthur Godfrey show. Mr. LaRosa, or Julie, as he asked me to call him, has been a neighbor for years of my dear friend Anne. I have been out to dinner with Julie and his lovely wife Rory (who used to be Perry Como’s secretary—she could no doubt play this game well!), spent New Years’ Eves with them, called and chatted. But my favorite times have been talking with Julie about the singers he has known and worked with. For those of you who don’t know the score, he was publicly fired on the Godfrey show when the supposedly-genial, but secretly-monstrous Godfrey feared LaRosa’s popularity might eclipse his. But over the decades LaRosa has worked with all the giants, and it has been fun to talk with him about the talents of Sinatra, Clooney, and others. In 2004 he was playing in Las Vegas, opening for Don Rickles, and Anne and I went out to see him perform. As he performed he introduced his neighbor Anne from New York, and a spot light hit our table. The then-74-year old performer knew his way around the American standards, and it was such a treat to hear his stories about the great singers of the mid-century.

Barbara Cook If you do not know the name Barbara Cook, then you probably know the name Shirley Jones. If you know Shirley Jones, well, she starred in all the Hollywood musicals that had starred Barbara Cook on Broadway. Barbara Cook is an icon in the Broadway and cabaret world. She conducts master classes in the most mesmerizing and life-changing ways. She sings like…well, like none other. She understands a song like a play, invests it with every drop of meaning and beauty, and leaves you breathless. For a number of years Barbara Cook’s cabaret performance was my birthday gift from Christy. Well, one evening I am at the Museum of Modern Art in New York, and I see Barbara Cook walking toward the exit. I come up beside her, politely say, “Aren’t you Barbara Cook?” She nods, and I say, gushing, “Ohmigosh—I think you are like the best singer—in the world!” She patted my hand, smiled, and said, “And sweetie, you’re under 60! Aren’t you kind?!” About a year later I came upon Ms. Cook at a bus stop! She and I were waiting to go downtown. I complimented her again on her performances, also said that I knew an old friend of hers. We talked about Julie LaRosa, and Ms. Cook praised his phrasing of a lyric, and I said that he had sung her praises many a time. The bus came, and Ms. Cook got on. I actually wasn’t taking the bus—I was walking, but I wasn’t about to waste a chance to talk with Barbara Cook!

Whoopi Goldberg In the winter of 1993 Whoopi was filming a movie in Charlotte, NC and my friend Judy called me up and said we should go and be extras in a movie scene they were filming at the Charlotte Coliseum. Judy and I joined the 15,000 or so others to be in this crowd scene (the film also starred Frank Langella actually, and this is the encounter that spawned their short-lived romance). We got a free box lunch, but spent about four hours as they filmed this one scene. Whoopi had to come out and talk to the crowd, admonishing us that they couldn’t sit there and scream, “Hey, Whoopi, whoop, whoop, Whoopi!” Her character wasn’t‘Whoopi’ in the movie, and none of the takes had worked thus far because people in the crowd (not me! Not Judy!) kept shouting her name!

George Clooney In my childhood Nick Clooney was a local Cincinnati celebrity with a variety show. My mother had a bit of a crush on Nick Clooney. One day that I must have had off from school, my mother took me downtown to be in the studio audience for Nick’s show. I loved watching the whole production of a show—how exciting to see the lights and camera and all the work to present this show. The long-forgotten singer Trini Lopez was a guest (somehow I remember that!) and afterwards my mother made a bee-line to speak to Nick. He knew her name somehow! His family was there—his gorgeous wife Nina, his less attractive daughter Ada, and nice kid, Nick’s son, George, was a couple years older than I. My mother gushed and we six stood and talked for a few minutes.

Fred Astaire Do phone calls count? If so, then I can drop Fred Astaire as a name. When I was in 7^th grade I became obsessed with the Academy Awards (I will be watching them tonight, starting at 3:00 AM Monday time in Jordan!) and I did a presentation in my 7^th grade class on the history of the Oscars. I wrote a number of letters to Oscar winners—so what if I had very few answers!! But one of the people I wrote—the one and only Fred Astaire—called me so I could interview him for my project. We talked for a while—it was really exciting!! My father groused a bit when the phone bill came the next month—Fred Astaire had reversed the charges on the phone bill!

Olivia deHavilland Speaking of that Oscars project, about four years later, when I was in high school, I came home and saw a letter to me from Paris. The return address looked vaguely familiar, and as I tore it open, I saw it was a letter, a picture, and an apology from the Oscar-winning actress Olivia deHavilland. She apologized she took so long to get back to me! But I had a letter and an apology from an actress from Gone With The Wind(another obsession of mine in the late 70s).

Jean Stapleton This was not an encounter for the ages—well, actually I guess it was in a way. I saw Emmy-winning Stapleton, the celebrated Edith Bunker of TV’s All In the Family, in a Broadway comedy in 1986. I used to always go to the stage door of theaters to get autographs of the stars. As Stapleton came out, I asked for an autograph—she was dressed in a Queen-of- Sheba-like outfit. In the seconds she signed the playbill, she never once acknowledged me, looked at the playbill, and seemed overwhelmed with the ennui of celebrity. After that, I wasn’t interested in autographs anymore. I still loved looking at stars, watching the games as they left a theater, but the enchantment with autographs was sapped after encountering Ms. Stapleton.

Tina Fey For Easter of 2012 I got to be in New York since it overlapped with my spring break here in Jordan. Christy went for Easter Sunday to Advent Lutheran Church, the church we have attended on and off since 1994 (when I am in New York, obviously). So here we are in the crowded church, with all the flowers, beautiful Easter clothes for the children, and I notice that in the pew behind me, I think, yes, I am pretty sure, it is Tina Fey! I casually turn around, confirm, yes, indeed, that is Bossypantsand 30 Rock star right behind me with her daughter. I need to turn around just one more time, because I want to see how Ms. Fey is enjoying the service I turn around, and she is staring right at me (not unlike what William Holden did to Lucy Ricardo in the Hollywood episode of I Love Lucy!) and nodding her head, as if to say, “Yes, it truly is me!” I remained non-plussed, and gushed to her about how cute her daughter is.

Bill Clinton For another spring break, 1993, the same break as the infamous encounter with Sissy Spacek, Casey Brown and I hear that presidential hopeful Bill Clinton is in New York. We brainstorm—where would Bill go that day??? We remembered that pundits had said he should schmooze the Jewish vote while in New York, so we decide to head uptown to the Jewish Museum just in case. We guessed correctly! The crowds are thick on his side of the street, but we realize that no one is across the street, so we cross over, and I yell out in my booming tenor, “Heya, Bill!” And he turns to us and waves.

Hillary Clinton I see Hillary in person about 18 months later when, as First Lady now, she comes to dedicate a new statue to Eleanor Roosevelt on the Upper West Side. I attend that day, and it was interesting to see Hillary in person, working the crowd, her strident voice a little harsher in person, but I enjoyed her speech. At the time she was taking heat for having met with a medium in the White House. The comics all talked about how she was summoning up the ghost of past First Ladies, seeking advice (maybe she was!). In her speech, Hillary joked that she planned to tell Eleanor later that day, when she spoke with her, how nice the dedication was.

Okay, I see that the series will have to continue…until next time when we will meet some of these people: Sigourney Weaver, Glenn Close, Patti Lupone, Kevin Bacon, Regis Philbin, Candice Bergen, Bob Dole and his dog, Gerald Ford, Colin Powell, Norman Schwarzkopf, James Baker, Neil Simon and Jane Fonda.

Dropped Names

December, January and February are always the three months of the year, it seems, when jet lag insomnia is never far away for me. Those are the months in which I do the most jet-setting: Jordan to the USA to Bangkok to Jordan to London to Jordan to Boston to Jordan…lots of flying, and lots of opportunities for the nettling jet lag to set in.

But I thought I would look back this week on a book that was among the most delightful reads of an insomniac middle-of-the-night. I never want to read anything too weighty, too important, too life-changing, just in case I fall asleep! So I picked up at the Cincinnati Library, my beloved Westwood branch that I have frequented my entire life, and checked out a copy of actor Frank Langella’s memoirs, called Dropped Names.  In the preface, Langella, the former Dracula of the late 1970s, writes:

“Oh, I’ll never forget when the Queen Mother turned to me and said…, “I couldn’t resist. I picked up a piece of silverware and sent it clattering loudly to the floor. “Oops! I dropped something!”  I declared. And a ritual was born. Like a pack of wolves let loose on a defenseless critic, the gathered predators got the joke and began to drop names and toss silverware in a frenzy of competitive hilarity….So get out your silverware. I’m about to drop a whole bunch of names on you.”

I was telling my friend Dawn while we visited over an early-morning reunion breakfast, about the book and how fun it was to read at 4:00 AM and Dawn said, “You know, you could drop some of your own names. You have met some interesting people!” So, when the insomnia dropped in again, I thought I would make a list of some of my own names I can drop…okay, here begins a mini-overview of my life and the names that come back to me:

Helen Hayes               The earliest celebrity that I remember meeting is the actress Helen Hayes, often referred to as “The First Lady of the American Theater.” She was on a book tour in the late 60s, promoting her memoir, and my mother took me downtown to one of the department stores to meet her. I was maybe four years old or so. You are supposed to buy a copy of the person’s book and then you stand in line for the celebrity to autograph the book. My mother bought Ms. Hayes’ book, and bought a copy of a Dr. Seuss book for me. Helen Hayes autographed them both, and as we watched her sign the book, my mother said, “My son likes drama very much—perhaps if you need a young boy in your next play, I am sure he would be happy to join the company!” That tells you a great deal about my mother! And I may be the only one in the world with a Dr. Seuss book signed by the great Helen Hayes!

Charles Taft              The day I met Charlie Taft when I was in the 3^rd grade is one of the most exciting days of my childhood. I was in full-blown American History mode by the 3^rd grade, gobbling up every book I could find on the Presidents of the United States. The spring before my family had made pilgrimages to the Lincoln homes as well. One day my grandmother mentioned that she was acquainted with a man whose father had been a President of the United States. I could not have been more excited! She explained how she had done some volunteer work and met William Howard Taft’s son, Charlie Taft, who had been a mayor, and long-time councilman in Cincinnati. I begged her to introduce me to her. My grandmother asked, and Charlie Taft agreed to come and speak to my 3^rd grade class at Westwood School. No way! I was beside myself with excitement! In those days I had memorized not only the Presidents names, forward, and backwards, but also their wives’ names. (Truth be told, I can still perform this feat, if wver you would like either list!) I couldn’t get enough Presidential trivia! And then the day came! He arrived and I met him! This nice older man, who came and told stories of running around the White House with Teddy Roosevelt’s rambunctious sons, hurling spitballs at the portraits of the First Ladies, and generally being nuisances for the entire staff charmed me greatly. He talked about his father’s work, then his father’s appointment to the U.S. Supreme Court, and finally encouraged we 9 year-olds towards a life of public service. I beamed throughout. My mother called the newspaper who came and did a story on the day I met Mr. Taft. Too excited for words! I doubt anybody else in the grade was remotely as excited as I was. My mother took me on a tour of William Howard Taft’s boyhood home across town, and I must say, I was devastated when I volunteered to be a tour guide of the Taft home, and they said one had to be 16.  I had to wait 7 years?????? Oh well, at least I met a President’s son!

Joan Allen and Peter Friedman       I think it is too hard to try and go in order, so now I will jump 30 years and mention an evening I attended the movie Shakespeare in Love, in Manhattan. I loved the movie, and about halfway through I noticed that the couple in front of me were actors I had seen in plays and movies. Of course I enjoyed the movie even more, knowing I was a couple feet away from actors that I just adored watching in action. As the movie came to a close, I decided I needed to tell them how big a fan I am of both their work. The wife, multiple-Oscar nominee Joan Allen had teared up by the end of the movie, and seemed to dawdle, so naturally I had to dawdle as well so I could casually meet them and recognize them. As we both exited our rows of the theater, I gave that dumb-founded surprise look of recognition, said their names, and exclaimed, “You know, both of you are so marvelous. I teach school and I have taken classes of mine to see both your work! I took my U.S. History class to see The Crucible, with you Ms. Allen, and oh, Mr. Friedman, I took my seniors to see you in Ragtime. Extraordinary performances!” They thanked me, seemed touched, although I guess I did intrude on their reverie after the film, and then lamented, “And why you haven’t won many Oscars is beyond me! And, oh, your work as Tateh, deserved a Tony, Mr. Friedman.” They smiled, and I kind of hoped they might invite me over for tea and coffee. No invitation proffered, and no, I didn’t even follow them home!

Sissy Spacek               This celebrity sighting is perhaps my dumbest moment with a celeb. It was spring break of 1993, and Casey Brown and I had driven to New York from Charlotte for the vacation. I was in FAO Schwartz, the famous toy store, and I had my radar on for celebs. I see someone who looks like the actress Sissy Spacek…hmmm….I follow her around, quite discreetly, then follow her up the escalator, and then over towards a cash register. At one point she turned right to me, and I say, with such poise and brilliance: “You are Sissy Spacek! Wow, you have so many freckles!” Argh!! I might have said, “You starred in one of my favorite movies, The Long Walk Home and I thought your performance was masterful.” No, I gawk at her freckles. She looked a little sorry for me, sighed, and went about her business.

Carol Channing        This may be my ultimate celebrity encounter—or, well, at least one of my favorite stories about my mother too. When I was 12, Broadway icon Carol Channing came to Cincinnati in another tour of Hello, Dolly! and my mother decided the whole family should go see the show. We knew the score of the show actually, because every Wednesday, on cleaning day, my mother would turn up the Hi-Fi cast recording of Hello, Dolly! and dust away to the infectious Jerry Herman tunes. Well, all four Leistlers go to the show, and after the show ended, my mother asked me if I wanted to meet Carol Channing. I said “Sure!” and my father quietly said, “I’ll go and get the car.” My mother and I started to walk toward the stage door, and I saw a guard, but my mother just nodded, smiled, and kept going. The guard smiled back at the nice lady walking regally with a cane. No one stopped us! When we got backstage we figured out there was a party for a cast member from the tri-state area, and then we see Carol Channing, she of the saucer eyes and expansive smile, and my mother edged to the front of the line, and asked for an autograph and extolled her luminescent performance. Carol asked, “And who are you?” My mother said, “I’m Aunt Mary.” Carol obliged, and my mother indicated it was time to go. On the way out I said, “Mama, you lied to Carol Channing.” She replied, “I did not. I’m somebody’s Aunt Mary!” Years later, in 1988, Hello, Dolly! became the first musical I directed. Somehow, my mother contacted Carol Channing and got her to call me and wish me well on my opening night! ”Dolly has always been very good to me,” Channing rasped. I thanked her, told her I had seen her performance a dozen years earlier, and wasn’t sure if any performer could equal her star power and magnitude. She hoped I would break a leg!

Al Pacino        This is one of those classic New York celeb moments—I was at a play, Ralph Fiennes in Hamlet, I think, and during the intermission I went to the Men’s Room, and at the urinal right next to mine was Al Pacino. He turned to me, nodded, and I gave that cool, man’s-man, nod back that tacitly says, “Hey, dude.”  As we zipped up, I said with that New York ennui about everything we get to do, “I loved Looking for Richard—that was brilliant.”  He said, “Thanks, man.” And we returned to our seats.

Well, now that I am waltzing down memory lane, I think I will turn “Dropped Names” into a bit of a series of blog entries. I have some more stories, so come back in a day or two, and here will be some of the names I “drop” in the next blog entry: Barbara Cook, Sarah Jessica Parker, Whoopi Goldberg, George Clooney, Fred Astaire, Jean Stapleton, Tina Fey, Barbara Walters, Elaine Stritch, Daniel Day Lewis, Hillary Clinton, Bill Clinton, Bernadette Peters, Dan Rather, and Susan Sarandon.

Kensington Laddie and Boston Brahmin

Every year now, January and February pretty much become a blur to me—oh yes, the jet-setting life of a recruiter leaping from job fair to job fair has its exciting elements, but it still is a little bit of a blur since the job fairs are so consuming.

So five weeks since my last post, and I am finished with the job fairs for the 2014 season…and I can look back fondly and reflect on the London and Boston job fairs. (Bangkok, as you will note, was my previous blog post, five weeks ago).

London and Boston are my favorite spots for the intense job fairs—not least because I just love the cities of London and Boston, love walking around the areas around the job fair, and because I know people in these cities and at night, after the resumes are put away for a few hours, I can go and visit with some peeps.

The London fair that we attend is in the neighborhood of Kensington—oh, my, I love Kensington! The hotel is in a real neighborhood, just a stone’s throw from a tube stop, near some good restaurants (like my favorite, a farm-to-table English place, and yes, there can be great English food, at a place called Bumpkin’s) and book stores (just catty-corner from the hotel is a great little nook of a bookstore called “Slightly Foxed,” and then a little ways further the great Daunt Books) and then the wondrous Victoria and Albert Museum just about 10 minutes away by foot. So whenever there is a lull in the job fair—out we run for a gastronomic experience, a book experience, or an artistic experience.

But, the bulk of our time is spent in the Millennium hotel. As I have explained in other blog entries, there is the pre-interview stage when you search through the website of candidates, noting and sending out missives hoping they will come by our table at the sign-ups; then there is the interview time, when half-hour interviews run from 8:00 AM to about 6:00 PM; then there is the reception/schmooze time at evening socializers. Between the London and Boston fairs we interviewed about a hundred people—a little fewer than last year (we decided to be a little choosier).

The day begins with breakfast at 7:00: you stuff your face at the breakfast buffet; then you interview; then you fall into bed exhausted at night. You wake up the next morning ready to go and smile and interview again. And you wear a suit and tie—essentially, your school uniform. The job fair world exists in fancy ballrooms and suites and hotel breakfast buffets, and then at the end of the fair, you go back to your real world.

As I have explained before, there is a sign-up time at the fair—essentially a cattle call, and rather exciting to behold. There are about 200 schools at each fair, with anywhere from 400-700 candidates, all wondering where they might end up. You stand behind your table in the ballroom, all 200 schools, and an official of the fair clangs a bell, and the candidates are let into the ballroom. They move around, looking at the schools from A-Z (seriously, from Angola to Zimbabwe!) and what jobs are available in each school. They form a line, you meet them for about 60 seconds, set up an interview time, then research the candidates, trying to decide who will be the best match with your school. From that initial meeting you learn about them, meet them by the elevators, exchange smiles at the breakfast buffet, put notes in files, wait for the interviews and try and develop a relationship in 36 hours. In the interviews and reading the confidential reference letters, you learn about their emotional lives, dreams, ambitions, and disappointments. In the interviews you piece together their back story. I often go on “stalk and schmooze patrol,” which means that I try and “bump into” our most desired candidates, chat them up, and remind them of the school, hoping they will be as interested in us as we are in them.

And yes, it really is about those relationships forged. The highlight of these job fairs is meeting the interesting people. It would fill many pages of the blog to chronicle the people I have met—ex-pats working in Burma trying to find the right school fit and mend their marriage; the woman who has had some job problems and hopes some school will look past her ‘misunderstandings’ with other schools; the young man from Edinburgh who dazzled us with his accent and command of history and political theory; the young man who sat there opining that “I don’t think I want to work in a school”; a couple with an engaging husband and a severe-looking wife who wants the adventure of Jordan without any of the duties (!!); the bohemian polymath that left the fair headed for a hike in India; the college seniors who are enthusiastic and bright and announce they are ready to tackle the classroom. We met couples who were lovely, couples who seemed demanding, math teachers like the Hungarian man who said, “I would like to work with the boys in the gym to have muscles like me,” and people like Frances who bonded with us, but in the end chose a school much nearer to her home in Florence, Italy. There are thank you notes in the folders, and reminders of etiquette and protocol.

The fairs in London and Boston were with the LJJ team: Lilli, Johns Austin and Leistler. We three have done the most fairs together, and we laugh a great deal during the down-time of interviews. We head out for a great meal, head to the book store, or even one night of serious theater in the West End, seeing The Weir. What bonding you do when you are together non-stop at least 12 hours a day!! The best part of the job fairs comes when you are trying to close the deal, and hoping they will join us in Jordan. Inevitably, at that point they begin to interview us. Is it safe? Do you like it? What challenges do you face? John lets us answer these important queries, and I have been known to mist up when I talk about my nearly seven-years at the school. It is as if all the blog entries are right at the tip of my tongue and I try and articulate what has been so important, challenging, life-changing and inspiring about being at KA.

It always boils down to this observation made last year by Reem at one of the fairs: “So many lives changing here in this hotel.”

This year felt a little more relaxed at the fairs, maybe because we know the territory well, and maybe because we did have a little more time away from the fair to see alumni and/or friends. In London, at night, I would take a little jaunt around nearby Hereford Square and imagine what life might be like for me if I taught and lived in Kensington. Lilli and I always commiserate that the only place for which we would abandon KA is London!

And then in Boston we had the good fortune to interview an alum of the school for a teaching job. Our first graduates of KA are seniors in college now, and what a beautiful coming-full-circle it was to interview Ghassan Gammoh. Ghassan is a senior at Harvard, and while we have been in touch ever since his three years in Jordan, and seen each other every year while I was at the job fairs, he did not know the current headmaster, John Austin. I had filled John in that Ghassan had been my advisee, my student, my actor in plays, my stellar student in the first two AP history courses at the school. But Ghassan still needed to interview, like everyone else. It was a delight to listen to Ghassan share why he would feel comfortable and ready and challenged and inspired to come back and teach here. John offered him a contract right then and there and told him to think about it for a few days.

I met with Ghassan a few days later and he couldn’t have been more excited about returning to Jordan, teaching high school students. Besides the fact that Ghassan is a brilliant learner, he is also compassionate and funny. What a great testament to the school that he would return—Ghassan will be a great role model that one of our students can go to Harvard, dream of being  a doctor and yet come back to teach, serve the school well, and compel our students to reach high and aim big.

On the last day of our time in Boston, John set out for a meeting in Philadelphia, and Lilli and I found ourselves with a free day. A free day??!! We shopped around the stores at Copley Square, but we also made a phone call and invited our former boss, the founding headmaster Eric Widmer, to come up and join us for lunch. Now a retiree, Eric said his big job that day was to empty the dishwasher, and figured he could spare the time and move that task to the evening. Eric joined us, and we had our last meal in Boston at Legal Seafoods, recounting our memories of the founding year of the school, the ups and the downs of the “toddler” years of the school, and the great joy at our friendship over the years. As I said earlier in this blog, “It is as if all the blog entries are right at the tip of my tongue and I try and articulate what has been so important, challenging, life-changing and inspiring about being at KA.”

The photo above is of the lunch reunion last week with Eric before Lilli and I set out for the return to Jordan, for the return to our regular work-a-day school world here. I waited a few days to write the blog entry so I could confirm that Ghassan will indeed join us next year on the faculty, the first alumnus to return and teach a new generation at KA. I am certain that that will ensure some more blog entries in the fall. But anyway, the fairs have ended, the traveling finished for a while, and more blog entries soon to come about the life here at our school.

One Week In Bangkok

This blog entry title is obviously a play on the strange 1980s pop song, “One Night in Bangkok,” written by ABBA guys and from the concept album for the musical Chess. I remember coming back from studying abroad in Salzburg, Austria, and everyone played the song that summer. Since I have never really had my finger on the pulse of the pop music world, I never really got the song at the time. But oh, in the summer of 1985, it was hot!

It was hot last week in Bangkok as well. In fact, the original title I planned to use for this blog entry was “Hot in Bangkok,” since that works on several levels, but as strange as it may seem, while my friends and family in the USA were shivering in sub-zero temps, I felt quite strange with the mid-90s temps of Bangkok. And frankly, it would be strange on several levels.

Anyway, I spent a week in Bangkok working two recruiting fairs for teachers to come to KA. We have been going to these fairs for four years in Bangkok, but they don’t yield many signed-on-the-dotted-line teachers. In fact in Year 1, we gained no teachers from Bangkok, in Year 2, we gained 1 teacher eventually from that fair, and last year, even with about a half-dozen offers made, again, we came up bupkis. I should have done a blog entry last year, “Bupkis in Bangkok”!!

So it was with somewhat less enthusiasm that I got on a plane on January 2^nd in Cincinnati headed for Bangkok. Actually, the most amazing thing is that I got on a series of planes at all ending up in Bangkok. As my father and I drove to the airport on that second day of 2014, we had several inches of new-fallen snow on the ground, and a pronounced white fog around us. I am amazed that we left Cincinnati at all. We landed about an hour late in New York; however, that was late enough for me not to make it to the Metropolitan Museum of Art as I had planned. Anyway, Gary and Christy and I met at our favorite pizza place in New York, Patsy’s on the Upper West Side, and we laughed and laughed and worried and worried about the storm invading New York. I got on the subway to get back to JFK—again, just as the prognostications of a major blizzard were coming true, we took off bound for Amman. I landed in Amman and had three hours to get back to campus, unpack, shower, re-pack and head back to the airport for the 10 hour flight to Bangkok. All except one suitcase—who decided to stay in New York for a few extra days—made the connections, and I landed in Bangkok with the temps in the mid-90s. Within my first hour at the hotel we had our first interview…bam! Land, Shower! Interview! The interview was with a kind, energetic, involved teacher. I liked him more than my team. Bangkok was off to a rousing start!

I guess the week is so strange in Bangkok because we rarely leave the hotel. I had a great view from my room of the river winding through town with the tour boats and bus-ferries and fancy hotels on the banks of the river. It is tropically warm with thousands of heat-seeking tourists. But we were all suited up, wound up, and interviewing/scheming/planning/reconnoitering inside all day. It’s not a prison, but it’s not a vacation either.

One of the problems is that Bangkok is not among my favorite towns, or rather, a town that I have felt I have “owned.” I visited Bangkok for the first time in 1998 when I took my first trip to Asia, visiting college chum Sharon in Singapore and Malaysia. But Bangkok is a big city, hard to navigate, get inside your head. London, Vienna, Salzburg, Boston, and New York—now these are my towns.

Perhaps another reason why Bangkok remains hard to love is that it has now become a signal for the next school year. We have just rung in the New Year, and we jet off to Bangkok to hire teachers for next August! And by hiring new teachers, we are, naturally, bidding adieu to teachers we have worked with. I am still a little new at the administration game that this doesn’t bother me a little. Saying good-bye—such a part of teaching teen-agers, and in an international school, a big part with adults that cycle in and cycle out as well.

So, let me look back at one day of the week and just explore what we did that day. I met with our school head John at the breakfast buffet at 8 (8?? What a luxury! It is usually much earlier!) and I told him of our plans to interview people that day. Now what we have learned in our fair-going years is that you want to have as many interviews as possible before the interview sign-ups begin. Now, does that make sense? The way it works—by the time of the interview sign-ups, if you haven’t met with your first choices, they will probably have already snagged a job and signed a contract. So we have learned to interview before…whatever! So we read the newspaper, looked at the schedule—we had six interviews scheduled and hopes for several more.

Our first interview was with an Asian math candidate who grew up in Canada and has taught in Korea. She interviewed well, but afterwards we didn’t hear from her, and it turns out she didn’t reply to emails. Our next interview was with a sad-sack of a curmudgeonly man who teaches English in Guatemala, and has little tolerance, it seems, for the students he teaches. He is very much into technology, but there was just little joy going on there. Next we go out for lunch—outside—and find a little dive and have great curry and pad thai with a head of a school in Saudi Arabia and we discussed professional development activities in our schools. I have met her at other job fairs and always enjoy talking with her. She and John rattle on about “head” things and I marvel at what all they have to control as the head of a school.

After lunch we have four interviews in a row. Renee is young and perky, almost too perky, in fact, but we have a great discussion about her teaching of history. She is green, however, she may be very coachable. She is our best interview discussion so far. Next we meet Melinda, a woman my age, who left everything in 2010 to teach abroad. She has taught seemingly every course in history, and worked with drama and speech groups. This is a wonderful interview about her command of pedagogy and love of history. We are interested. Then we meet with a young man who surprised me how gentle he looks given his six years in the army in Iraq. Dan is a great interview as well. He grew up in North Carolina, went to Colby in Maine, has a new baby, but the conversation is so organic and unfolding…great conversation.  Our last interview of the afternoon is with a couple who teach in Kuwait. They are young, bohemian types, but strangely, the more we talk with them, the more serious they seem, the more willing to tackle all that we have on our school plate here. Another good conversation.

After the interviews I go back to spend time on the computer writing the various heads of departments, asking them to look at the files on line. I study the files as well, reading the reference letters, checking to see if I think the candidates have the grit, resilience, intelligence and compassion to make it work here. I look through the emails sent out for more interviews, send notes out to those we had spoken to, and plan second interviews the following day with three of the candidates. I write notes to about 7 candidates who don’t look like good fits. I check and re-check with John. Actually, a fairly easy day in the job fair world. I take a spin on the stairmaster in the fitness center, and then head to the recruiter social.

I noted this mostly to look back at what we do at these job fairs. I schmooze and stalk when not huddled over a computer screen reading reference letters, or interviewing. When we like someone I stalk around the main areas of the fair, “bumping” into our favorite candidates, and then schmoozing them for awhile as we talk about the school. I like the stalk and schmooze angle! It’s fun.

Over the next two days I stalk and schmooze with Dan—we probably talk for about two hours about the school, teaching. I answer his questions, he makes notes. I like him enormously. He would make a great colleague. When we finish he calls his wife back in Shanghai. We offered him a contract, and after a few more talks with us, he accepted. Whew. That was our one week in Bangkok. I think he’s a good one.

While we signed Dan, yes, we also learned about five other colleagues who had been on the fence about their return (we don’t have to sign a contract for another week or more) who decided to leave to Jordan. So we gained Dan. And we lost a few more. It’s the nature of the ex-pat life in the international school. You lose some teachers. At this time of year, in Bangkok, it also looks a little dark, even with all the Thai sun.

At the First Battle of the Marne during World War I, French lieutenant general Ferdinand Foch sent out this communiqué: “My center is giving way, my right is retreating. Situation excellent. I am attacking.” Kind of funny that even in that tough situation, Foch saw hope. His willingness to remain hopeful eventually led to victory for his troops.

Sometimes in Bangkok we can feel as if we are losing teachers right and left. However, last year at this time we hadn’t signed anyone. Last month we signed four new people, and now Dan’s name will be on a dotted line. We just have to plug away, interview away, and find a way to conclude: “Situation excellent.”

That 1980s pop song, “One Night in Bangkok,” sarcastically juxtaposes the heady night-life of Bangkok with the game of chess. In the original London production of Chess, the setting for the song is an interview in which the candidate states a preference for what he sees as an intellectual purity in chess, in stark contrast to the seedier aspects of Bangkok's night life. Hmmm…all right, we had our week in Bangkok, the chess game continues, and I will conclude, “Situation excellent.”

Happy New Year!

 
On this quiet, cold New Year’s morning, somehow I am thinking of an old bit in Jerry Seinfeld’s comedy act of the early 1990s. Seinfeld waxed nostalgic about the old days when your family’s TV Guide came in the mail. Jerry reminded us of the excitement and how we would revere the NEW TV Guide and all the promise it held for the upcoming week….ahhhh…the newness of the new Guide! You kept it as pristine as you could for as long as you could. Then as the week went on, it lost its luster, and by the end of that week, the dog-eared, old, worn-out copy, well, you couldn’t wait to get rid of it! I remember laughing knowingly with Jerry’s bit about how a family treated a TV Guide and the cycle it went through.

Well, don’t we treat a new year in much the same way? We welcome a new year with such promise and care, and 364 days from now, we will be happy to bid this year a good riddance. Is each year like the old TV Guide of the old days????? Hmmm….

And of course, just thinking about that begs the thought about how every arrival portends a leave-taking. Every birth portends its own death.

Oh, great! And Happy New Year to you too, some blog reader will grouse!!

Every birth portends its own death. Why does that thought leave us so uncomfortable?

The Christmas story has this thought about birth and death around its edges. Thousands of portraits of Madonna and the Christ child show a wistful Mary—she is aware of her young newborn son’s impending death. Every arrival portends a leave-taking. Every birth—even Jesus’ birth—portends its own death. The Magi knew it. When the wise men, or magi, or kings, or astrologers, or whoever they were, arrive to see this special child, they arrive with old men’s gifts: frankincense and myrrh. Spices with which to prepare the body for burial. Yeah, great. Happy Birthday, Jesus!

So on this New Year’s Day, this first day of the crisp, newly-minted new year, what a strange thing to think about death. I mean, let’s face it…we will die. Each of us. All of you. Every single one of you.

The death rate among us: 100%.

The death rate among us, including Jesus: 100%. We know it: this hard-as-steel-truth. But it’s not easy to face. Not easy to bear. Not easy to talk about especially, God help us, with our own families.

So let’s return to Mary, the teen-age Palestinian girl who bears the Christ child. How was she able to understand this certain transition from life to death so well? She is tuned in, even seemingly reconciled to the hard-as-steel-fact of passing on. Mary figures out the secret to being reconciled to death: Mary links the fact of passing on (the fact of her own passing on) with the art of passing down ... of bequeathing.

Think of Mary’s song, her “Magnificat,” as her last will and testament. In it she bequeaths her son to the ages.

As if the gift of her son is not enough, there is more. This young woman, this girl-child, gifts us with a song – a song that is itself a kind of kaleidoscope: with shifting and overlapping glimpses and fragments of past and future, of ancestors and descendants, of remembrance and inheritance, of a promise that shimmers and shifts in the light. A promise passed down and taken up: generation by generation, taken up, parent to child, teacher to student, down through the millennia. A promise taken up here as we conclude the season of Advent. A promise carried in white lights and fragrant greens, in memorial poinsettias, in carols and in candles to pierce the night.

Every birth portends its own death. Every arrival portends a leave-taking.

But, listen now! With every leave-taking, there can be a leaving, a bequeathing, a gifting, a passing down.

What will we gift? What will we pass down? On this beginning of 2014, this may take the sting out of death?

I suppose I am thinking about this on this new year’s morning since in 2013 there were some unexpected deaths of friends and friends of my family, and some close calls with sickness and cancer. I also turned 50, a half-century of time alive, and surely a time to wonder about mortality and our purpose.

Since I am a lover of music, comedy, and history, and I have already discussed Seinfeld and the Magnificat, let’s take a little look at history. Let’s remember Benjamin Franklin, that exciting man of the 18^th century. Benjamin Franklin, was like Mary, reconciled to his own dying and marvelously and wondrously tuned in to the way the generations are linked. He linked the fact of his own passing on to the art of passing down. Let’s listen to him through some of his last will:

I, Benjamin Franklin ... do make and declare my last will and testament as follows:
I have considered that, among artisans, good apprentices are most likely to make good citizens, and, having myself been bred to a manual art, printing, in my native town of Boston, and afterwards assisted to set up my business in Philadelphia by kind loans of money from two friends ... which was the foundation of my fortune ... I wish to be useful even after my death, if possible, in forming and advancing other young men, that may be serviceable to their country ... To this end ... I give one thousand pounds sterling to the inhabitants of the town of Boston ...

The said sum ... shall be managed under the direction of the selectmen, united with the ministers of the oldest Episcopalian, Congregational, and Presbyterian churches in that town, who are to let out the sum upon interest ... to assist young married artificers in setting up their business ... It is my desire that this institution should take place and begin to operate within one year after my decease ... In witness whereof, I have hereunto set my hand and Seal this twenty-third day of June, Anno Domini one thousand Seven hundred and eighty nine.
B. Franklin.

The institution Benjamin Franklin imagined, and named and provided for in his will is located a few blocks from Copley Square in downtown Boston, the Benjamin Franklin Institute of Technology that educates young men and women of every nationality and ethnicity…educates and equips them with practical skills and technologies.

Benjamin Franklin has passed on…but not before passing down, not before gifting to the next generation a part of his own self and soul.

While we cannot all pass along large sums of money or property, we can pass along a legacy of integrity, of truthfulness, of humor, of good cheer. This Christmas season I am remembering the legacy of goodwill from my father’s friend Dick, who recently passed on. Dick died suddenly. When his son went through his father’s kitchen pantry, he found a surprising number of cake mix boxes. His asked my father about them. His son didn’t know his dad liked to bake. My father told him that Dick baked a lot of cakes—especially for people who might not get a cake. He baked for birthdays when he worried people might forget the birth of a new year for someone, or when he wanted to celebrate someone a little bit in his orbit. This big, strong-as-steel man with immense practical skill and knowledge gifted the people around him with a legacy of crumbs and icing.

We are reluctant to acknowledge the one truism: we will die. This embodied, earthly gig, this sweet, sweet gig—the one that comes with the taste of Graeter’s mint chocolate ice cream and the aroma of fresh ground coffee and the sound of an infant’s squeal—it is temporary.

I know you know it. But I also know it’s not easy to face. Not easy to bear. But again, let’s reflect on the Christmas story before we put everything away in boxes and out of sight for another 11 months. Let’s look at Mary’s story and her reconciliation of the hard-as-steel fact of passing on with the strong, imaginative, generative, affectionate art of passing down, of bequeathing.

Every arrival portends a leave-taking. But we get to make choices about what we will pass down, what we will bequeath. I suppose that if we take up the art of passing down, it will soothe the sting of passing on.

So Mere Mortal, let me put the challenge clear on this first day of the new year. How might your dying beget a birthing? How might you gift the generations to follow? How might you take up the strong, imaginative, generative and affectionate art of passing down? Happy New Year!