A Drop of Water

A Drop of Water

…a true story

     Angelica loved the ocean and while attending a West Coast Seminar, she had the opportunity to visit the beach and watch the waves roll in toward her feet.  She kept calling to them from the sand, “Roll in, come on roll in closer to me.”  All of a sudden, one huge wave rolled in so fast and furiously, she stood there petrified.  “Run” the onlookers cried but frozen with fear, she couldn’t move,.  The wave came up to her knees then gently rolled back, leaving a drop of water on her hand.  When she looked at it, she saw a beautiful glistening circle and thought, “this is too beautiful for me,” and threw it back into the ocean.  Then she heard the voice of the Lord speaking to her.  “Angelica, that spot of water is like your sins and the ocean you threw it in is like My Mercy.”  He then asked her, “Can you find that spot of water now?”  she replied, “No, Lord, I could never find that small drop of water in the ocean.” “Then you can never find your sins again in my Ocean of Mercy.” 

                Angelica never forgot that lesson and when people ask her how they can ever feel forgiven for their horrible sins of the past, even though they have confessed them, she reminds them that their sins are gone, forgotten, lost forever in God’s unfathomable and boundless ocean of forgiveness and profound love.    A great reminder and measure of hope for us all.

DC Dream

The Golden camel at Old Town's Art Center

                Will they ever stop playing tricks? The last time I visited my son in DC, he had a great apartment in Crystal City above hundreds of fabulous shops, so after he picked up myself  and my daughter daughter  at the airport (We planned to see the ballet at Kennedy Center) he again headed for what I thought would be home. We drove into the usual dull gray garage, went up the plain elevator and through the beige hall on the 13^th floor.  He then opened the door to a shocking sight; voila, new furniture in a different setting.  “You changed the furniture” Yes, it was new but the room looked different.  “Mom, I moved into a new apartment a week ago.  I now live in Pentagon City!” As both children laughed at my obvious faux pas, I reveled in the fact that I now had my own bedroom and bath and was a hop skip and jump from the famous Nordstrom Pentagon Mall!

Lunch at La Madeleine

                After whisking us off to Old Town in Arlington, we ventured to walk amidst 16^th century colorful row houses and delightful shops on famous King St.  Of course we stopped at La Madeleine for French pastry and inspected the designer as well as thrift shops. Antiques, art, bistros and stunning stores adorned the bubbling crowds of baby buggies, adorable dogs proudly held on a leash by Old Town residents and vibrant visitors, enthralled by a historically preserved section of our country’s capitol.   Returning to Old Town later that week, I decided to walk the 16 blocks to the waterfront where a famous art gallery holding 75 cube mini galleries lined three floors of a converted warehouse.  Spotting the “golden camel”, I asked two charming ladies to take the above photo for this blog.  They were so proud of the amazing artists and their works – a joy for all DC visitors.

R

                On Saturday, we were joined by former student and prima ballerina Michelle Lucci whose usual vibrant and sparkling personality filled our visit with memories of fun times at the studio where my offspring would constantly interrupt Michelle’s class with “Mom, can I have a can of soup?”  Since she and my daughter both studied ballet for years, it was an exciting treat to share in the Bolshoi’s performance of Coppelia.  A home-made spaghetti and chicken parmesan dinner awaited us after the performance as well as a pre-purchased movie entitled First Position. Michelle discovered that one of the stars of the documentary, a little boy named Aryn was her student for two summers in Carlyle (small world).   All agreed that this DC event would was truly a dream that would remain in our memories for many years. 

                The last trip to San Francisco, visiting my youngest son at Google headquarters held mind-blowing surprises, and I’m now planning the next trip to Orlando and Tampa where three more of my children will host their mom.  I wonder how many surprises they’ll have in store…next blog will tell!

view from the Pentagon rooftop

celebrating in Old Town at with a Thai dinner

               

Oogling Google Headquarters at Mountain View, California

          Wow! I had no idea when being invited to Mountain View California by my son and his wife that I would be a guest at Google’s first “Bring your parents to work day”, (the first in its history), honoring parents of all employees.  My son  flew in from Miami where he was holding a Google conference to be at the airport to greet me on Wednesday afternoon. Whisked off to Google Headquarters at 9 am Thursday, 2000 parents were greeted by Mr. Laszlo Bock, Vice President, People Operations of Google Inc. We were then led into the huge amphitheater where charismatic Omid Kordestani gave a moving speech about why “Google is considered the greatest company in the world to work for.”

Statue of Lloyd Bridges in the park

According to Kordestani, Google has five main goals:

 1-We are not a conventional company and don’t intend to become one

2-  Our goal is to develop products that service as many people as possible and impact the world

3- We are willing to fund projects that have a 10% chance of success if in the long run it may generate billions

4- Don’t be evil

5- Our employees who name themselves googlers matter to us – we encourage their passion for innovation.  We make their world colorful and fun.  It’s all about our employees. 

          I totally agreed with his statement since everywhere looked, I observed an atmosphere of fun, freedom and a fabulous future.  Google believes in serving its employees. Receiving 75,000 applications a week, it takes dozens of  employees to sift through résumés and only a few hundred a year to be interviewed. My own son had thirteen interviews during a nine month period. He has never been happier for the Google atmosphere is amazing – intimate buildings surrounded by parks, lounge chairs for those who do not like to sit at desks, nineteen gourmet cafeterias, free of charge all day long, exercise and game rooms,A  bowling alley massage therapists, huge and complete medical facilities, free chartered bustransportation for employees, free laundry and errand service and a host of other perks (like Japanese toilets) you would have to see to believe.

         The Google philosophy allows employees in group teams to share their creative visions, ask for input, and develop great ideas.  The “voice” is echoed throughout the vast facility for all are encouraged to “dream big” and follow through with ideas (backed financially by Google even if it’s in large sums.  Their new “Sci-fi eyeglasses” promise to be revolutionary!

          Also at Google there are self-driven cars (perfect for the headless knight) and free use of colorful bicycles.  Dogs are allowed to accompany their masters and of course romp in Google’s Dog Park.  There is even a small lake for beach front respite. Employees receive tickets to fabulous weekend concerts, musicals rock star performances at their vast amphitheater (Cirque du Soleil was there recently), and hobbies such as bee keeping and gardening are also encouraged and allowed on the grounds.  Employees join in sports teams and even dance (I went wild in the gorgeous dance studio).

          After this tour, and the royal treatment of nightly gourmet restaurants, we visited the Stanford University Track and field Invitational, where we watched Joe’s alumna friend from U.S. Military Academy at West Point place first in the hammer throw. Evenings, my son spent many hours of assistance with my new Artsyanecdote blog, I also listened to him singing songs from musicals I had choreographed.  So many memories - so much fun! I told my son that I was thinking of staying forever.  My Google hat is now worn with pride and a reminder of one of the most awesome weekends of my life.  

Harley the Hilarious

     She may be an innocent pile of pretty fluff, but underneath that sweet lovable face and naiveté lies a crafty conniving cat, an FBI-trained feline, and believe it or not, a malicious minx!

                Harley loves fresh food for breakfast, (the only time it is served) and come ” h” or high a water, a way will be found to wake up her sleeping beauty mistress. 

                On the first attempt to get Miss B out of bed, she merely nuzzled her face. No luck – the sleeping young lady just plopped a pillow over her head and went back to sleep. The next night, Harley spied a glass of water on the dresser.  Aha, the vixen is at work.  Squishing her nose in the wet stuff, she proceeds to slosh her mistress’s nose.  It was a cold jolt but now the covers went over her head. 

                Time for another tactic – noise!  How convenient – a door stop that goes “boing”.  “Boing, boing, boing” goes Harley’s paw, relentlessly insisting on “somebody” getting up to stop her, and of course, get her breakfast. Too bad… towels wrapped around the doorstop quelled that racket.  Hmm Harley thinks, “If I get a running start from the back of the room, jump on the bed and slide, I can pull off the covers.  Voila, success- she’s freezing.  Nope, she just went back to bed and tucked the covers in tight, meanwhile reminding me it’s only 3 am.”

                Desperate times call for desperate measures.  Harley remembers 20 jingle balls she got for Christmas and hid all over the house, so at 4 am, what does the tired sleeping princess hear- tinkle tinkle tinkle, on and on.  “Stop it” a tired Miss B cries, grabs the ball, hides it and goes back to bed. ( Five minutes later, more tinkling). “Stop it” she screams at a recoiling Harley yet this action is repeated every five minutes with balls number three, four and five until in desperation, the princess storms out of bed, looks for every ball in the house, puts them in a drawer and hopefully tries to go back to sleep. Problem solved! 

                Five minutes later, a sweet, cuddly, repentant pet leaps on miss B’s chest and gently drops the last hidden number twenty ball on her face.  Who cannot love this adorable animal? 

                  Warning…if Disney ever gets hold of Harley’s antics, look out people- she might just become his next star.  Move over Angela Jolie, there’s a new “cat woman” on the scene.

Life Saving Boots

            As Joanne’s highly talented fingers floated across the keys of a baby grand in the corner of my first studio on Elmwood Avenue in Buffalo, I tried in vain to keep the ten to twelve students in line, feet turned out and working on their new ballet exercises in front of the mirror   I noticed one of the parents speaking in low tones to Joanne and at the same time, saw her big gray eyes becoming as huge as saucers! My curiosity could stand it no longer.

            After class, we both listened with fascination to this amazing woman who had spent four years in various concentration camps in Germany.  Yes, her name was Gerda Klein, the mother of one of my lovely students.  The unbelievable story of the horrors of her life under Nazi regime will long live in my memory as a reminder of man’s inhumanity to man, and of the courageous human beings, whose lives will always be remembered as heroic victims enduring torture, degradation, massacre and horrific atrocities under the rule of a madman. 

            Gerda told us many stories of her early treatment at home, the family’s gradual harassment, and the day her father, with great foresight, told her to “wear a pair of boots” before she was taken away.  She admitted later, it saved her life on the forced “death march.”   After four years, reduced to a near-skeleton and with completely gray hair – rescue by the Americans!  A  poignant love story followed; she married the young lieutenant who led her to freedom.  Her life since, has become an inspiration for others. 

            Later, Gerda’s book “All but My Life”, found  a place in our home library and was probably read by many of my children.  It has since disappeared but I hope to replace it someday, for I truly cherish the memory of this personal encounter with this survivor of outstanding courage.

            Gerda will receive the Medal of Freedom from the elder President Bush and President Obama early next year. I would give anything to be a “fly on the wall” at that ceremony and later ask Gerda Klein if she remembered that teen-age ballet teacher and her lovely pianist from years ago. I think she would.      

Is Shakespeare Cool or What?

This article won first prize in the 2012 Journalism contest in the Hilbert College Newspaper

 Photo - Hollywood & Shakespearian Actor Bill Dennehy with B. De Mike

            Is that the Bard I hear rolling around in his grave or is it his rollicking laughter? Who could have imagined that Shakespeare’s famous comedy, Twelfth Night could marry reggae and rock with Medieval minstrels? It’s certain that director Des McAnuff , a dramatic genius  realized theater must transcend time and place to delight today’s audiences, maintaining the classics with a freshness and appeal that stuns, surprises and totally inspires the human soul.

This production  in particular had the total audience, consisting of dozens of students as well as avid theater-goers, toe-tapping, clapping, swaying in their seats and laughing hysterically at mocking sword fights, clever quips, eye-popping comedic costumes (Bette Davis would have been green with envy at the two foot ribbon-swirled Elizabethan collar), and grungy guitar playing minstrels. The lavish wardrobe on the other hand, was as gaudy and sparkle encrusted as one can imagine.  Contrast? Perfect!

One is warned that this perplexing plot twists and turns with troubles and misleading tales, however, we are immediately set at ease with dialogue that explains all, developing in the audience’s minds, complete understanding of a topsy-turvy situation; of twins who think each other is dead, of a beautiful girl who must disguise herself as a man and who, exactly is in love with whom. The staging with four marble covered boxes, used as movable props is one of the cleverest tricks for playing to an almost circular audience by placing them in various stacks, and seating arrangements.  The most outlandish effects however included the mobile driving units, entering form upstage center, rolling in a cast of characters and a sliding in a full-scale bar for the drinking crowd complete with a “pizza delivery” bringing howls of hysterical laughter from the surprised crowd.

A personal highlight for me, since I direct child and adult actor alike from time to time, was the amazing portrayal of Toby, of a binge-drinking knight sir-errant  by famous stage and screen actor Bill Dennehy. His acting, so amazing, had me awe-struck throughout the entire production. The never-ending expressions of  face, body language, eyebrows, mouth, tongue,  and that heavenly smile sent me backstage,  I felt I had to meet this actor even if it meant "crashing the gate" (of which I am quite famous). Note in hand and with all the authority of a visiting Hollywood director, I "insisted' that I must see Mr. Dennehy and give him this a important note. He immediately led me to his dressing room where I was followed by a "real" Hollywood director and true friend of Mr. D.

Without giving either one a chance to say a word, I placed a camera in the Hollywood gentleman's hand and said "I'm sure you know how to use this." After heaping accolades upon this stunned actor, I  begged for a photo for the Hilbert College newspaper  (which he so kindly granted).  

Theater goers should be aware that Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night revelry,  gleaned from the English folk song, “Twelve days of Christmas”, sets us in a holiday mood where lust, love and lively partying escalate.  We are entering into the Bard’s “magical ground” as in many of his other romantic and intriguing comedies yet the excesses we see here actually mask a fear of loneliness. It is wisdom versus folly, madness versus the sanity of glorious decisions as when “love conquers all” in the marriage of three socially mismatched couples.

“What say you Shakespeare? Are you crying out, ‘Down with medieval - Up with the modern world?"  This, truly is the theme of every generation but not portrayed with such glorious gusto!.

           

Remember this hero

(Photo of Nicole pictured as an poor immigrant in the Royale's Americana (Vincenza's Miracle)


Her name was Irena Sendler and she alone was responsible for saving 2500 Jewish babies and children from the Nazis duing World War II. Cleverly placing herself in the position as a plumber's assistant, Irena carried infants out in the bottom of a tool box and sacks for larger kids. A trained dog barked at soldiers warning her to hide. When caught, she was severely beaten, arms and legs broken, but never her spirit. She kept a name of each child in a jar, buried under a tree and after the war, tried to locate the parents. in 2007, she was nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize but was second to Al Gore.
Irena died May 12, 2008 at age 98 and has probably received her 2500 crowns or more in her heavenly home. I received this information from a friend named Joe (who sends wonderful emails) as his part in memoriam for Irena and the six million Jews, 20 million Russians, 10 million Christians, Polish highly prized citizens (and other nationalities too numerous to mention) and 1900 Catholic priests, ministers and nuns who were murdered, massacred, raped, burned, starved and humiliated. Who can dare to say that the Holocaust is a 'myth'? I personally met a survivor, Gerda Klein,  who was a parent of one of my students in my school years ago. She was real - so was the holocaust. What is more real is the God-given courage of many just like Irena who risk all for the love of their fellowman.

Actors, Heed This Advice, please!

(in photo, scene from King and I, West Seneca West Sr. HS directed by Peter Wolfe)

At the end of a one hour interview by Robert Osgood with the great English actor Peter O’Toole. Osgood asked ”Peter, what is the one best bit of advice you could give to someone who wants to be an outstanding actor?” Without hesitation, he said ”I would tell them to remember that ‘the word becomes flesh’, not to put down or blaspheme the bible passage from John1 in any way, but to elaborate the fact that each word becomes ‘real’ to the audience; it is something that can be felt, has power, and actually becomes truth revealing the character the actor represents’”

I nearly applauded when hearing that since, for so long, I did not know what it was that could kill the disease, the plague, the horrendous epidemic I call “mumblitis” that is so prevalent today! Some young actors ‘rattle’ like snakes or gourds shaken by marimba bands.  Other slur their words under their breath and wonder if they have ever heard the great acting of men like Clark Gable, Rex Harrison, Henry Fonda, and women like Olivia de Haviland, Joan Crawford and Patricia Neal whose every word is like a jewel? 

I was told by opera director Tim Kennedy that opera singers are taught to sing without a  microphone and from what I heard at the latest auditions, they could break glass with their voices alone.  Where do they get that amazing power of projection?  It is possible for people to speak loud and clear if they  put forth the effort and realized what a great effect a good speaker has on others, especially future employers!

Have you ever tried to decipher directions by airport personnel telling you when to board a plane when you happen to be at the end of the seating area, or try to make out what the fast food employee is spouting out when going through the drive-in or wonder what the student is saying when playing a leading role and speaking faster than a speeding bullet?  Doesn’t anybody teach anyone to speak correctly anymore?  Words have power.  They should be clean and clear, have emphasis and meaning.

 I guess I was spoiled growing up in an Italian family.  You always knew every word everyone said whether in English or Italian; it was loud, musical, and spoken with gusto, accompanied by gesture that would make a Hollywood actor pale in comparison.

Patrick Swayze slept (and danced) here in Buffalo

         Country music flowed through the hills of Alleghany as Patrick Swayze sang “froggy” songs on his guitar – with a Texan’ accent, of course, and kept all enthralled on the “Bernie Bus” holding nineteen dancers  (and a precarious driver) on their way to dozens  of Western New York Schools.   Dancing  their way into the hearts of  uninitiated ballet enthusiasts, this  troupe, mainly from the Royale Dance Theatre, accompanied with guest artists from the Pennsylvania Ballet, jostled along at six am, with a barrage of ballet bags resting on turned-out feet. 

         Patrick, or “Buddy”, as he was known, a talented  nineteen year-old, and the recent winner of gymnastic, trampoline, and “Dancer of the Year” awards, was  hustled up to Buffalo by prima ballerina, Michelle Lucci’s friend and manager, Randy Schwartz.  Lucci, a former student, was to dance with our touring group and was thrilled to have a Texas ‘cowboy’ who doubled as a delightful dance partner for six weeks.

         Son Mark joined in the fun, telling jokes, (which he does  to this day), while his younger brother Matt snoozed up by the heater. The ten-foot trailer held dozens of costumes, huge speakers, sound and lighting equipment, our dance floor, and my speaker’s gown which, by the end of the tour was held together with duct tape as well as everything else in the trailer! Buddy was overwhelmingly loved by principals, teachers, and especially kids who were spellbound by his gymnastic & trampoline tricks.

        Who knew that Patrick Swayze was to become a star, both on Broadway and then in film?  From what I have heard, he kept his humble beginnings in his heart and do hope he remembered his first professional engagement here in Western New york. 

        In the huge ( and overcrowded) costume storage of the Royale, hangs the blue ruffled cowboy shirt used in his performance of “Americana” with Sandy P, and in a special vase in the bathroom, his coveted “boar” hairbrush, left in my car as I drive him to the airport. 

     I cherish the memorabilia, the photos, the memory of a fine young  man, but most of all, I remember the sweet “Froggy” songs, sung with a  true Texan accent.  So do my kids!

Scene from "Americana" (Arthur Fiedler's)  Patrick kissing "Irish Girl" Patti Makey.  Karen Lorshbough looking on

If I Still Lived in Sicily

    

  I shudder to think, “what if both sets of grandparents, then in their twenties, were afraid to ‘tread the Atlantic’, and decided to stay in Sicily?”  Would the maternal and paternal families have Introduced Sam and Jessie producing my brother and I?  Of course the maternal  family was from Messina, and the paternal , from Palermo, nevertheless, people travel, especially in that tiny “heel” of the Italian boot.

     I would have been born on the outskirts of Agrigento, among the peasants, in a three story stone block home with dirt floors, no plumbing,  and wood-burning  stoves. At six am, I’d  daily greet the many odd animals , (chickens, ducks, goats, even pigs) roaming  freely on the first floor, and then help “Gramma” on the third floor where the kitchen held the fresh dough we had to “beat into shape” for our daily bread and pasta.  Later, we’d trek to the nearby fields to pick whatever “greens” grew there to be cooked with the chicken, killed with our bare hands. (Still can’t believe how they walk around “headless”!)

     Since I innately love to dance, I would be doing Tarentellas in the village square and at the local weddings.  Music would flow joyously from Guiseppe’s  accordian or Antonio’s mouth organ. Homemade flared cotton skirts, peasant blouses and flowers in my hair would complete the “Barefoot Contessa ”.

     There would be no “dancing lessons” of course, and school – only until sixteen. “Girls are only going to get married and have babies, so why do they need an education?” (the philosophy of every macho Italiano)

     So, at sixteen, momma and poppa, along with grandparents and “Parina” (the inevitable godmother), would pick the best signor in the village for me – one with a good farm, of course.  Heaven forbid I should be  an old maid at  seventeen

     Without my consent, a marriage would be arraigned.  If I objected, I would be met with “You’ll learn to love him.” Then would begin the daily gathering of “La famiglia” and neighbors making the mountains of cookies Giovanni and I would pass around at our wedding.  My first baby would be born at age eighteen, and many more after that. (that didn’t change much here in America, however I began a few years later.)

     I would have lived a simple life as a Sicilian peasant, happy, but always wondering what my future would have been if I had been born in America… but thanks to Antonia, Josephine, Salvatore and Vincenza, getting on that boat – I now live in the greatest country in the world where  unbelievable doors of opportunity have been opened and given to me and my children.

     I still dance the Tarentella, still talk with my hands, but I at least, I don’t have to kill chickens!