Day 2254: Love Letters

Today’s blogging love letter is inspired by a lovely conversation with loving WordPress blogger Debra, whom I loved meeting in Los Angeles on Friday. I told Debra that my son, Aaron, whom I love, does not read my blog and how he has told me that he will read all the letters, words, sentences, and paragraphs in my blog after I die.

I told Debra that I love that, because after I’m gone Aaron will discover that this blog is “a love letter to him, as well as to many others.”

In this daily blog, over the past six years, I have written love letters to

• my son Aaron,
• my boyfriend Michael,
• my sister Ellen,
• my parents,
• my therapy groups,
• group therapy,
• my readers,
• my ex-sister-in-law Deborah,
• my ex-sister-in-law Diane,
• my other ex-in-laws (including my nieces Laura, Julie, and Victoria)
• my sister-in-law Linda,
• my cousin Lani,
• my friend Barbara,
• my friend Deb,
• my friend Carol,
• my friend Jeanette,
• friends and ex-college-roommates Marcia and Maria,
• my friends Janet and Ray,
• my friend Megan,
• my friend Janis,
• my friend Dave,
• my friend Lawry,
• my friend Eleanor,
• my friend Arnie,
• my friend Peggy,
• My friend Kathy,
• My friend Jenn and her family,
• My Scottish heart sisters Vicki and Andrena,
• my son Aaron’s friends,
• my co-worker Alice,
• other co-workers (past and present),
• my ex-neighbor Karen,
• my dentist,
• healers,
• school friends,
• childhood friends,
• children of all ages,
• fellow bloggers I’ve met including Mark Bialczak, Lisa from Daily Musings,  Val Boyko from Find Your Middle Ground,  and the aforementioned Debra from breathelighter,
• fellow bloggers I haven’t met (yet),
• blogging,
• my high school classmates including Jean and Beth,
• my old schools,
• my old business partner Jonathan,
• Ron Lynch,
• Dr. Neil Portenza/Josh Ladgrove,
• Irv Yalom,
• Pat Metheny,
• Lyle Mays,
• Michael Brecker,
• Jean-Luc Ponty,
• Jaco Pastorius,
• Miles Davis,
• Stephen Sondheim,
• Gene Kelly and other dancers,
• Todd Rundgren,  Stevie Wonder, Steely Dan, and other singer-songwriters,
• Mel Brooks and other film-makers,
• Jackie Chan,
• Martin Luther King,
• Walt Disney,
• Jane Austen, William Shakespeare, John Collier, and other writers,
• other celebrities,
• other activists,
• people with unusual hearts,
• musicals,
• movies,
• television shows,
• jazz,
• strangers I’ve met who have immediately become less strange,
• Boston, Massachusetts,
• the North Shore of Boston,
• the South Shore of Boston,
• South Carolina,
• Panama,
• Iceland,
• Edinburgh,
• the Edinburgh Festival Fringe,
• the ocean,
• my hair artiste MiAlisa,
• my car mechanics,
• my car,
• my medical doctors and other treaters,
• group therapy professional organizations,
• comedy,
• comedians,
• music,
• musicians,
• writers,
• other creative types,
• our cats,
• dogs,
• animals,
• nature,
• happy people,
• people in pain,
• all the different human emotions,
• languages,
• words and definitions,
• signs,
• certain letters of the alphabet, and
• many other inspiring and/or ordinary subjects and objects.

I sometimes love linking to past blog posts and sometimes I don’t, especially when my love letter list is so long! I also don’t love leaving people off of loving lists, so I may be adding more love letters to this post, later.

What love letters are you writing these days?

I should write love letters to Ron Lynch for inviting me to warm up the crowd last night at his Tomorrow! show in L.A. and also to Don for sending me the video, as promised.

I look forward to all the letters in the comments section, below.

Love letters to all  who helped me create today’s blogging love letter and — of course! — to YOU, my lovely and loving readers.

Day 2225: Small Mouth Sounds

Yesterday, for my birthday, I saw a great production of the wonderful play Small Mouth Sounds, about a group of six people at a silent retreat.

Before the play started, my boyfriend Michael made a small mouth sound when he noticed the incredible coincidence of his twin brother (who never goes to the theater) attending the same performance of the play.  About 40 minutes into the play,  I made a small mouth sound when I realized that I had neglected to leave my car key with the valet at the parking garage which was a twenty-minute walk away from the theater.  I made several small mouth sounds as I wrestled with the decision of whether to disturb people in the theater to try to contact the parking garage or to stay in my seat and allow my keyless car to perhaps create havoc where I had left it.

Michael and I made small mouth sounds as we communicated silently about my dilemma, echoing the action in the play, where the characters had taken a vow of silence for a five-day mindfulness retreat. Michael mouthed and gestured “Call them!”  It took me ten minutes to decide what to do while my brain made small sounds (interfering with my ability to hear the small sounds of the play) like these:

How could I have done that?  Why am I realizing NOW that I forgot to leave the key? Wouldn’t it have been more effective if that thought had occurred to me during our long and circuitous walk to the theater?  Could it have been the fear of being late for the play or the distraction of immediately being asked directions by another theater goer who was also confused about where the play was and who accompanied us on our search for the location? Why didn’t the parking valet run after us after realizing that I had forgotten to leave the key? Why haven’t they tried to contact me through the parking app? Have they towed my car?  Is this going to ruin my or anybody else’s day?  How do I get out of this long row of people and unobtrusively leave the theater when the audience is staring at each other across the center stage and the actors are maintaining such a delicate and effective balance of comedy and tragedy in this almost-silent 110-minute play without an intermission?

Eventually, I made the smallest sounds possible leaving the theater and contacting the parking garage, finally reaching somebody who made small and kind mouth sounds reassuring me that my car and everything else was okay.

After the play, Michael and his twin brother made small mouth sounds telling me what I had missed during my absence, including the cute guy in the play getting completely naked.  I made a small mouth sound indicating that I thought they were kidding, but they weren’t.

Michael and I made our way back to the parking garage, making small mouth sounds all the way. There, the nice parking attendant, who had made small mouth sounds with me on the phone, told me I had left the car running, so the valet had no trouble parking it and getting it out of the way.  While he was talking to us about this, he made a small mouth sound when he was informed that SOMEBODY ELSE had just left the parking garage without leaving their key.  Because that car wasn’t running, somebody ran after that other forgetful parker, making large mouth sounds to call him back.

Then, Michael and I went to my favorite restaurant, Bistro 5, where I made small mouth sounds eating the 5-course chocolate tasting menu. I hope that didn’t disturb Michael, who probably has the genetic tendency of being bothered by the small mouth sounds of other people chewing food.

You may make small mouth sounds when you look at my latest photos:

I look forward to using that gift from Michael of the USB microphone to record the small mouth sounds of my original songs.

I also look forward to seeing my friend and comedian’s comedian Ron Lynch in L.A. at his Tomorrow Show on March 3. Here  and here are YouTube videos of Ron and audience members making many mouth sounds at the Bridgetown Comedy Festival.

I’ll be making small mouth sounds of appreciation for any comment you leave, below.

I’m now making large mouth sounds of gratitude for all who helped me create this post and — of course!  — YOU.

Day 599: Signs, again

As I’m writing this — back home in Boston after a whirlwind 5-night visit to Edinburgh, Scotland with my 16-year-old son, Aaron — the room is very cool, with the windows open, at 6 AM.

Signs of the impending autumn in super-seasoned New England, USA?

We shall see.

 

Usually, before I publish a post, I check to see if I’ve used my title before. Yesterday, I didn’t bother to do that because

• I was writing with just a few hours’ sleep,
• the data transfer limits at our fabulous Edinburgh Hotel — The Hotel Indigo — made composing blog posts slower and more complicated than my usual routine, and
• there were many things I needed to do before we got to Edinburgh Airport for our 10:40 AM flight, including (a) finishing packing, (b) rousing Aaron from his few hours of sleep, and (3) retrieving my lost credit card from the wonderful restaurant where my mind had been completely blown the night before by my old comedy teacher’s offer for Aaron to do his stand-up routine at our favorite show of the Fringe Festival this year: Tomorrow! with Ron Lynch.

Because I didn’t check, yesterday, to see if I had used the title “Surprises” before …

…of course there WAS a post with that title: Day 463: Surprises. Coincidentally, that post was written at the end of my most recent trip/adventure (to NYC, with my friend Jeanette, right before I came down with a month-long bout with pneumonia).

Are there signs, there, of anything important?

We shall see. In the meantime, I’m reframing that whole I-Have-to-Title-Each-Post-Differently Rule, right now, as follows:

It doesn’t matter if I use the same title for a post, since my including the post number in each title automatically makes each one unique.

Phew!  One less thing to worry about, in my life.

Okay!  Time for some signs from the last week, during our round trip from Boston to Philadelphia to Edinburgh to Philadelphia to Boston. And, for this parade of pictures, I’m keeping some personal blogging rules/preferences in place, showing images you’ve not seen before, in order of appearance:

      

I would like to explain some of those photos, at this point. That last shot shows the lovely Cynthia Levin a/k/a the scathing Linda Lovin, performing at Fingers Piano Bar with Ron Lynch (as described in yesterday’s post, here). The four pictures preceding that show my son, Aaron, performing on yet another Fringe stage, as he was invited to exchange places with the star of that extraordinarily inventive show — the incredible Dr Professor Neal Portenza.

Well, I have many things to do, now that I’m back home in the USA.  I will leave you with my last photo of the trip, taken yesterday in the Philadelphia airport:

Thanks to all those who create and read signs, to every single person who contributed to making this post possible,  and to you — of course! — for making the trip here, today.

Day 598: Surprises

Today, my son Aaron and I are leaving Edinburgh, Scotland, flying on a couple of airplanes, and returning to our home near Boston, Massachusetts in the United States.

It’s been a wonderful trip. Which was not surprising, considering the wonderful times I had in Edinburgh, the two times I’ve visited before.

I don’t have a lot of time to blog this morning,  so I thought I would leave you with just a photo or two from yesterday’s adventures at the Fringe Festival in this fair city.

That number of photos may not be surprising, since the commitment I made to my readers was to post one photo a day while on my vacation.

I took a lot of photos yesterday, which was one of the best — and surprising — days my son or I have ever experienced, in our 16 and 61 years on this earth, respectively.

What was so great and surprising about yesterday?

For one thing, in an incredible coincidence, we ran into our favorite local comedian from our visit  last year to the Edinburgh Fringe — Tom Joyce — who just happened to be one of only four other people attending a fabulously funny performance of Cynthia Levin a/k/a Linda Lovin.

One of our quests, this year in Edinburgh, was to find Tom again. After searching for him on the internet and in person, we had decided this was an impossible dream. So, yesterday, when I heard Aaron gasp “Oh my gawd!” during Ms. Lovin’s performance yesterday, I realized whom he had spotted, in the first row.

Also appearing at Ms. Lovin’s performance yesterday was my comedy teacher from the 1980s and current Los Angeles comedy star — Ron Lynch.  THAT was not so surprising, since we met the lovely and hilarious Linda when she performed a couple of night’s ago at Ron’s nightly midnight show, here in Edinburgh.

It was also NOT surprising to see Ron there yesterday, since Aaron and I had planned to have dinner with him on our last night Edinburgh.

So, to review, it was no surprise to see Ron.  But it was a huge surprise to see Tom Joyce on our last full day, after Aaron and I had given up hope of finding Tom again (at least this year).

Then, Aaron and I experienced, in rapid succession, more surprises:

• Tom remembered us from last year, including (1) my blog post about him and (2) the fact that Aaron had red hair then.
• Ron offered Tom a spot on The Tomorrow Show this week because, Ron said, “I trust their recommendation.”
• Ron offered my son Aaron, who has been doing open mic comedy in Boston for the past six months, a spot on last night’s Tomorrow show.

 

Surprise!

Thanks to Aaron, Ron, Linda, Cynthia, Tom, and everybody else currently enjoying the extremely excellent city of Edinburgh. And — of course! — thanks to you, for any surprises you might bring or experience, today.

Day 596: Peak moments

As I mentioned  in yesterday’s post, my son, Aaron, and I have been seeing lots of great comedy at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe.

One of the many stand-up comedians we saw, yesterday, posed the rhetorical question, “Why did you have to build Edinburgh on ALL THE HILLS?”

I laughed out loud at that, out of recognition. As I’ve also mentioned in previous posts, I can get very tired negotiating hills, steps, and other elevations (because of my unusual heart).

But that’s okay.  When I get tired, I just rest for a few moments, and then I’m set to keep going.

I experienced that yesterday, while Aaron and I were climbing The Scotsman Steps.

I have another association with today’s post title. At various points along my various career paths (tech writer, marketing writer, film student and teacher, advertising entrepreneur, social worker, psychotherapist, group therapist, and “change agent”), I’ve been involved in the very helpful exercise of identifying “peak moments.” In those exercises, you identify times when you’ve felt the most happy, engaged, and fulfilled, and then think about

•  what contributed to those experiences and
• how you can bring more of those into your life, now.

If you want, you can read more about Peak Moments here, here, and here (sites I just found, with a quick Google search). Actually, according to that Google search, the more popular term is “Peak Experiences.”

Whatever we call them, I had one of those Peak Moments/Experiences yesterday, when a comedian I respect and admire very much, said to me, several times, in front of my 16-year old aspiring-comic son:

You are funny.

I have two photos of the speaker of those words, from his show, “Tomorrow” with Ron Lynch. Direct from the hills of Edinburgh, ladies and gentlemen, it’s ….

Ron Lynch!

Aaron and I were laughing, almost every moment Ron was up there on stage. We both agreed, after his performance, that he was the funniest person we’ve seen here.

Yes, we’re having lots of peak experiences, here at the Festival Fringe.

Thanks to Aaron, Ron, all the funny people we saw performing yesterday (in sketch comedy, stand-up routines, and improvs), and to you — of course! — for sharing these moments with me, today.

Day 595: Punchlines

 

My 16-year-old son, Aaron, and I are really enjoying the Edinburgh Festival Fringe, where there are always many performances of comedians, comic actors, and other funny people available, in any particular moment.

 

It’s funny, how I’m not taking a lot of “good” photos during this trip, so far. Here’s the punchline about that: I am focusing on the current moment, rather than focusing my shots.

 

Here’s what’s happening in the current moment, as I am composing today’s post: I am waiting for 10 photos I took yesterday to load into WordPress, so I can show you — with very imperfect images — some of the funny people Aaron and I saw yesterday.

 

In the meantime, I’ll share some random thoughts, inspired by the title of today’s post.

 

Punchline is a movie about stand-up comics, starring Tom Hanks.

I sometimes have trouble remembering the punchline of jokes, especially if I’m anxious about impressing somebody with my sense of humor.

Despite my imperfections, many people I respect have told me they think I’m funny.

 

Hey!  It seems like WordPress has actually loaded all the photos, although I can’t see them.

I am now going to attempt to insert 9 photos into this post (in order of appearance). Drum roll, please ….

Phew! That seemed to work.  The punchline, there, is that the very low data-transfer limit at our hotel did NOT seem to get in the way.

Here’s my next punchline: I want to finish up this post soon, so I can start another day enjoying the festival with my son.

I would like to write a little more, though, before I wake up my son.

I am not going to try to remember punchlines, right now, from all the great comics we saw yesterday.  And I’m not going to tell you the names of all the comedians pictured above.

I will tell you this. Yesterday, my son and I saw Ron Lynch, my stand-up comedy teacher from the 1980’s (previously appearing on this WordPress stage, here, and shown above in the next-to-last photo),  in his midnight show, called “Tomorrow.”  And we saw a special edition  of “Tomorrow,”  where the comedians not only did their routines, but also shared their personal, non-routine memories of Robin Williams.

All of those memories about Robin Williams shared a common punchline: Robin Williams was a genius AND he was truly nice, humble, big-hearted guy.

Okay!  Time for me to end this post. I’ve got to get my son and myself out into the Edinburgh air, so we can spend another funny day together (which will most likely include shows with many hilarious people, like Eddie Pepitone, shown in the last photo, above). Also, we’re planning on having dinner with Ron.

One more punchline, before I publish this.

After we finalized plans, yesterday, to have dinner with Ron, I said to my son (who started doing stand-up comedy six months ago), “Well, Aaron!  Having me as your mother has finally paid off.”

Aaron’s reply, “It’s already paid off.”

Thanks to Aaron, Ron, Eddie, Robin, and other funny people, who have enriched my life in many ways. And for my last-but-not-least punchline … many thanks to you, for your appearance here on my WordPress stage, today.