Pal Joey

Last weekend I enjoyed attending the Opening Night of "War Horse" at the Ahmanson Theater.
Set during World War One, this show uses elaborate puppets to bring the eponymous horses to life.  These are no two-men and a horse-head costume horses -- instead they are elaborate metal and leather puppets that really do let your mind create horses on the stage.

The story is a simple, but touching, one.  A boy's horse, Joey, is sold to the British Army and shipped to France for the war.  The boy soon follows to find his horse.

But don't be deceived, the emotions in this play aren't easily dismissed.  I was nearly bawling by the end.

Four Guys Walk Into a Studio...

Caught the National Tour (bus and truck version) of Million Dollar Quartet at the Pantages Theater in Hollywood last night.

This quintessential juke-box musical (running at a breezy 105 intermissionless minutes) is based on a true-life one-night jam session with Carl Perkins, Elvis Presley, Johnny Cash and Jerry Lee Lewis at Sun Records in Memphis, Tennesssee in December, 1956.

The show is really at its best in the last twenty minutes when they drop the pretense of a book, the guys don sparkly jackets and for a finale present what is basically a Tribute Concert.  They had the audience on their feet, cheering for an encore just like a real rock concert.

(By the way, what's with EVERY show getting a standing ovation these days?  Yes, we've all spent money to be there.  But do you have to "prove" you've seen something amazing by standing up for the curtain call?)

I felt sorry for Lee Ferris (leeferris.com) in the role of Carl Perkins.  I had no idea who Carl Perkins was.  (Maybe it's different for those in the audience older than me.)  His singing and stage moves were fine -- but I have no sense of if he "was" Carl Perkins or not.

Now Jerry Lee Lewis I remember.  Not so much for his records but for his flamboyant TV appearances when I was a kid.  And Martin Kaye (martin-k.com) captures the manic intensity perfectly.

Cody Slaughter (codyrayslaughter.com) is an actual Elvis impersonator (I think the PC term is "Tribute Artist.")  His performance is not cartoonish and he certainly has the leg and hip movements down.

But the most impressive is Derek Keeling (derek-keeling.com) as Johnny Cash.  Boy, you'd recognize that deep, deep voice in an instant.  I could listen for hours.

All in all, this show is like cotton candy -- there's not much to it but it's fun and pretty to look at.

Touching

Last Sunday evening I was in La Jolla to see the provocatively named "Hands on a Hardbody" at the La Jolla Playhouse.

It's a terrific new musical based on a documentary about 10 residents of an east Texas town competing to win a new truck in an endurance contest -- whoever can keep a hand on the truck the longest wins.

The show looks at the ultimate American dream -- winning something for free -- along with America's economic decline, immigration, aging and our competitive spirit.

The score is a toe-tapping rock-a-billy one -- the type of music you might actually hear in east Texas.

Doug Wright (I Am My Own Wife) wrote an outstanding book.

And imagine staging a show where the actors have to keep one hand on an on-stage truck at all times and still make it interesting to look at!  They pull it off big time.

Co-starring Keith Carradine and Hunter Foster, the entire cast really impresses.

The hope is this musical will make the move to Broadway.  If they have the dollars to do it I'm convinced it will be a hit and a major Tony contender.

Before the show I had an excellent dinner at a surprisingly elegant coffee shop -- the Hob Nob Hill Restaurant.  A great menu, reasonable prices and some nice touches -- like a chilled fork to accompany the salad course -- really caught my attention.  I can't wait to go back.

All Together Ooky

 

Adios

 

Why Don't I Recognize the Pine Sol Lady?

An Oddly Addictive Video

Without Valleys There Wouldn't Be Hills

Had dinner Saturday night at R Gang Eatery in uptown San Diego.

What a disappointment!  I was expecting upscale comfort food but got unrecognizable slop.  The service was good, I just didn't like the weird food.

Oh well.  Cross that one off the list.

Let's Write a Song About the Electric Chair

Went to the Saturday matinee performance of Kander and Ebb's "The Scottsboro Boys" -- a stunning show.

This show is an in-your-face look at racial injustice in America's history.  Using the racial stereotypes made prominent in minstrel shows, this tuner packs a wallop.

Susan Stroman's creative staging makes use of basically an empty stage and a few chairs to tell the tale.

It's a shame this show didn't do better on Broadway, though it's easy to understand how the topic didn't lend itself to commercial success.

I also had a delightful time walking around San Diego's beautiful Balboa Park.

Who Doesn't Love Pancakes?

On GeezBob's recommendation I had breakfast Saturday morning at Richard Walker's Pancake House in downtown San Diego.  Excellent!

There was a long line to get it but it moved quickly (even though the place is pretty small).  Excellent quality, terrific service and a great menu.  What more could one want?

I Feel the Need for Speed

Had an outstanding evening Friday night at the Marine Air Corps Station - Miramar. It was amazing to see the military hardware up close followed by a dinner at the Officers Club.  Even got to see the location where they filmed the famous bar scene in "Top Gun."

Sometimes Change Isn't Inevitable

Had a good lunch on Friday at the San Diego Chicken Pie Shop.  How come no one ever told me about this restaurant?

While I didn't like it as much as the Chicken Pie Shop in Fresno, that's an awfully high bar.

Turn Down the Lights

Thursday night I enjoyed attending VICA's Valley Business Hall of Fame dinner at the Sheraton Universal Hotel.  Casa Vega, one of my favorite restaurants in the Valley, was honored for it's 56 years in business.  In the photo above the founder of the restaurant and his daughter accept their award.

Broadway Baby

"Follies" may well be my favorite musical.  Sondheim's lament looks at aging, regret and inevitable change in a heartbreaking manner. 

Set in a decrepit theater (about to be torn down to make way for a parking lot) in the 70s, the Weismann Girls (think Ziegfield) reunite for one last party on the stage they performed on decades before.

The star-studded cast at the Ahmanson Theater (nearly all of whom performed in the Tony-nominated revival) really impresses.

I can't stop hearing Victoria Clark singing "Losing My Mind" in my head.

Democracy in Action

Stopped by the Orange County Registrar of Voters Office Tuesday night to watch the counting of ballots.  Even though there was a record low turnout of voters in a Presidential Primary, the many workers on hand seemed excited to be active participants in our democratic process.

Enjoyed dinner Tuesday night at the Mandarin Palace in Fullerton.  It's no Hoy's Wok (Hollywood) but pretty close.

I'm Still Here

 

Last night I visited a new supper club at the Renaissance Hollywood Hotel called "The Coterie."  They've taken the main dining room and turned it into a performance space.  I enjoyed the show -- "Sondheim Unplugged," featuring one song from each of Sondheim's shows from the well know like "Gypsy" to the obscure like "Saturday Night."

Doesn't Seem Like Such a Bad Place

I Think This Kid Stole My Winning Lotto Ticket

I Am Officially the Last Dinosaur Without a Touch Screen Phone

Grab a Kleenex

Danger! This is Less Than 2 Miles From Where I Live

I'll Have What He's Having

What Up With That?

Yes, You Are Invisible

Kathie Lee's Replacement Has Been Found

We All Remember in Different Ways

Every Friday is Rabbit Pie Day

That Hairball is the Best Dog in America?

Starbucks Confuses Me Too

This Must Have Been Pre-Heart Attack

I Could Watch Carol Channing Dance All Day Long

Making the Best of a Lousy Job

Some Folks Need a Little JSA

Director said, "Act a Little Crazy."

Please Do Not Touch

I've Got Pants Like That

In 10 Years He Will Embarrass Them

Everybody's Got a Skill

Strike Up the One-Man Band

Strap In and Hold On

A Civilized Response

I Miss Lion Country Safari

Wait for the Countdown

Deli Disappointment

KTLA Channel 5 recently published a list of the Best Delis in the Los Angeles area. I've been to several but there were many on the list that were new to me.

And there's nothing I like better than working my way through a list.

Last Tuesday I had a chance to visit Roscoe's Deli in Fullerton -- on the list in the "Alternative Deli" section.

Can't imagine I'll ever visit again. It's really a large bar with a small, limited deli counter. I ordered the Reuben sandwich and was really bummed to find out the sandwich wasn't even grilled. They don't have a grill. But they offered to "toast" my bread next time.

Don't think so.

Yes, the setting at Roscoe's is festive. But it's not the deli atmosphere I was expecting.

All Hail Maggie Smith

Stopped Short

I had a lovely visit this afternoon with my high school buddy John Dunbar, who was visiting from San Francisco.

We met up at "Short Order," famed restaurateurs Nancy Silverton and Amy Pressman's new upscale fast-food restaurant at the Original Farmer's Market at Third and Fairfax.

Short Order opened a couple of months ago and has received lots of attention. Have to say I was disappointed. It's overpriced. The portions are small. The menu is limited and the fries were terrible. For $6.75 the malt should be bigger than Sampler size.

The setting -- both inside and outside -- is lovely and the hamburger was tasty. But I can't imagine every going back.

Also stopped by Nancy Silverton's new bakery store at the Farmer's Market, "Short Cake." Wow! Really good selection of goodies and the two items I tried were both outstanding.

Why Is This Necessary?

I Want to Party with Her

Just a Quick Trip to the Grocery Store

I Love That This Guy Has a Camera Running At All Times

Close-up Look at the Zambesi River

This is America's Future and I'm Horrified

Is This Too Late?

It Doesn't Get Cuter Than This

Fun and Games with Pets

Well I'll be a Monkey's Uncle

A Decade Doesn't Fly By

My Mother died 10 years ago today, December 10, 2001 after a terrible battle with Multiple Sclerosis (which she refused to acknowledge having even as it completely debilitated her) at the very young age of 56.

Though time has dulled my emotions surrounding her death I think about her every day and she's still a regular presence in my dreams (sometimes a protagonist, sometimes an antagonist).

Calling my Grandmother from the hospital in the middle of the night to tell her her daughter had died was the most awful thing I've had to do in my entire life. That was the first time (at 38) I knew I was an adult.

Following her death it seemed like time slowed down. I remember how intense my emotions were at the time (and how determined I was not to reveal them.)

Below is the eulogy I delivered at her funeral. Reading it now I'm reminded how angry I was when she died. In fact, what I've posted below was the second, toned-down version of the eulogy. I wrote a first draft, without filters, and let it sit in my computer overnight. The next day I deleted it and wrote this version which said what I wanted to say but in a more socially acceptable manner.


EULOGY FOR JOYCE CAROL

When you’re the eldest son of Joyce Carol Fliegner Green Redewill Carol it’s a little hard to decide what to say in a eulogy. I was around for 38 of my mother’s short 56 years of life and there’s certainly no shortage of material.

I’d like to cover three topics: 1) What was it like growing up with Joyce as my Mother; 2) What are the positive lessons to learn from Mom’s life and 3) my thoughts on judging Joyce.

In thinking back on my childhood and early adulthood with my Mother I realize now every day seemed like a new adventure. If you’ve ever seen the classic movie “Auntie Mame” starring Rosalind Russell you have an idea what my childhood was like. It wasn’t nearly as glamorous as the movie – but the spirit was exactly the same. When Auntie Mame is asked, “What is your philosophy on life?” and she answers, “It’s to live, live, live” that sums up my mother perfectly.

She spent the last thirty years struggling to run her own business – determined to be her own boss and to become a millionaire at the same time. I remember in the 5th grade when she opened her cosmetics store in Pacific Palisades, “The Glass Menagerie” and told me she would be a millionaire within a year. Of course I was very excited by what this meant for me and quickly announced my impending good fortune to all my little friends. This was also the unfortunate period when I earned the nickname around school of “The Avon Lady.” Of course, the store failed within a couple of years – one in a string of business failures. But my mother’s optimism and dogged determination never failed. For Joyce the “pot of gold” was always just around the corner.

She spent her life surrounded by some of the most colorful people you could imagine. Shortly after she and my father divorced she hooked up with Jim Godfrey. As was typical with Joyce, her business and personal affairs were all intertwined. I think my mother and Jim Godfrey’s time together reached it’s zenith in 1975 when they bought matching Ford Pinto’s – one mustard-colored and one painted white and orange. Their relationship fell apart when they fought over who would drive which Pinto. Godfrey left and my mother got stuck with the mustard Pinto.

I remember Dora-Lee and Barbara Killingsworth, the lesbian couple (one from Portugal and one from Taft) who lived with us for a while. Barbara was an artist and gave my mother a drawing she made in 1976 of a lonely desert road stretching for miles with a rainbow at the horizon. Joyce kept it all this time and I took it from her office last Tuesday and I’m going to put it up in mine.

There were the junior high years she encouraged me to sell tie-dyed t-shirts. She was so proud to see me as a little entrepreneur just like she was.

For a long time she was friends with a woman named “Sally” who cast all of Dino de Laurentis’ movies – or so she said. I begged her to cast me in one when I was about 12. But to no avail.

She and her second husband, Les, were great friends with Mimi Herbert, an up and coming restaurateur. I can remember some really great parties with really good food.

While I was living in DC she became friendly with a man who claimed he could levitate. If you’re here today, would you please raise yourself?

Joyce never felt the need to by hemmed in by the norms of society. I can prove it, one year we ate a Thanksgiving Turkey made completely of tofu. Trust me, it was a bad idea.

Things always came and went in Joyce’s life. Whether it was relationships, friends, homes or business ideas – nothing was ever too permanent. Some things ended on a happy note, but more often than not, I’d say they ended on a not so happy note.

But through it all, Joyce was a dreamer. I remember a couple of Christmases ago, she and Andrea and I were driving to Victorville to see Granny. The effects of Multiple Sclerosis were seriously affecting my mother at this point. She was losing the ability to walk, she was losing her rationality and basically, as I saw it, her world was closing in around her. Andrea and I tried to engage her in a discussion about her future. We asked her what she would do if she couldn’t run her business any longer. And she told us, in all seriousness, that she would “travel and lecture.” And the amazing thing is, despite the ugly reality of her situation, she absolutely believed the answer she gave us.

So what are we, the survivors of Hurricane Joyce, supposed to make of this life that ended last Monday night, December 10?

Here’s where I am on that question: More than anyone else I have ever known, Joyce lived her life on her own terms. When she had an idea or a goal absolutely nothing stopped her from trying to achieve it. Was that always for the best? Of course not, but that’s beside the point. My point is to recognize and admire Joyce’s inner strength.

You know for the past 30 years, from the house she and I moved into on Earlham Street in Pacific Palisades to some really beautiful homes in the Palisades, Brentwood and La Habra to the last six months she spent at the Healthview Terrace Nursing Home, Joyce could never afford where she actually lived. It’s easy to wag a finger and say, “that’s wrong” – instead I’m choosing to be impressed by the fact she pulled it off for 30 years.

Up until the last 10 days of her life she kept her business open and drove to work everyday. By the way, it’s now safe for the pedestrians of Lynwood to return to the sidewalks. And yes, in doing so she made some choices that I don’t expect anyone here to agree with – but you have to admit, faced with insurmountable odds, including the shut down of her own body – except for the last 10 days of her life she absolutely lived HER life on HER own terms.

She spent the last six months living at the Healthview Terrace Nursing Home. She wouldn’t tell me where she was living. I only found out because I happened to visit Joyce in Intensive Care at St. Francis Hospital at the same time her roommate from Healthview Terrace, Deborah, was visiting her. Deborah visited Mom every day. I hope you’ll all take a moment this afternoon and introduce yourself to Deborah and the others here from Healthview Terrace. They were mom’s last friends. And I’d like to publicly thank the staff and other residents at Healthview Terrace for any kindness they extended to Joyce. And if there were times when you weren’t kind, I understand – I lived with her too, you know.

Let me conclude by touching on one final note. I’ve spent the last two weeks talking to more people about my Mother than I probably have in the last five years. And I’ve noticed how quick people are to offer me their judgments about my mother. “If only Joyce had listened to me, if only Joyce had done this, if only Joyce had done that.” If sharing those judgments with me has made you feel better than I’m glad it did some good. And don’t get me wrong – I have my judgments about her as well.

But I don’t want to hear anymore until you’ve done one thing. Before you share your judgments on Joyce with me I want you to go and spend 3 minutes sitting in the lobby of the Healthview Terrace Nursing home – I’m serious about this, it’s at 3540 Martin Luther King Blvd., almost just around the corner from here, take Imperial Highway east and turn left on Martin Luther King and the nursing home is on the left hand side just beyond the Radio Shack – and you go spend 3 minutes sitting in the lobby.

And you take those three minutes and you think about all of my mother’s dreams and ambitions for herself and then you think about her checking herself into that place, alone, to live out her life;

and you think about her clipping coupons for Depends so that she could save a dollar when she drug herself into a store to buy some diapers because MS stole her ability to control her bodily functions;

and you think about her begging her roommate, Deborah, not to call an ambulance because she didn’t want to go to the hospital, even though she couldn’t get up off the floor.

And after you’ve done that for 3 minutes I’ll happily listen to whatever judgments about Joyce you want me to hear. Andrea went to Healthview Terrace on Tuesday, so she can say whatever she wants to me. But otherwise I don’t want to hear it.

I love my Mother unconditionally – I invite you to do the same.

Thank you.

Why Do I Find This So Funny?

Give Me a Treat for Being Adorable!

Next Year Just Come Down the Escalator, Santa

I Admire People With An Idea and the Guts to Go For It

I Don't Understand What's Happening Here, But I Still Cried

The Way Back Machine

It's Christmastime in America, Again

I Want to Go on This

Under Construction When I Visited in February 2009

Back to You, Chet

Security!

A Century in the Making

My Grandmother, Maxie Green, was born 100 years ago today.

She passed away in 2006 at 94 years of age, but I think of her all the time.

Born on a farm in Russellville, Arkansas she was the first in her family to graduate from High School (moving in with a family in the "city" in order to attend).

Driven from Arkansas by the Dust Bowl, she left her family and traveled with another family to California seeking greater economic opportunity.

In Blythe (an eastern desert town in California) she met my Grandfather, Victor Green. When the family she was traveling with was ready to move further west into California she remained in Blythe to pursue a life with Vic. Maxie supported herself as a waitress in a cafe. She once told me Vic caught her eye because he drove a convertible.

Ultimately Maxie and Vic moved further west into California settling in Wilmington, next to the Port of Los Angeles, where she spent most of the rest of her life.

A woman of strongly held opinions, Maxie taught me how to have a point of view and to defend it (which I often did because I disagreed with her).

It's amazing to consider how much the world changed during her lifetime. Born when William Howard Taft was in the White House, Maxie lived through two World Wars, women being allowed to vote, Prohibition, the invention of radio, television, scheduled air flight, mass production of automobiles and computers.

Here's to you, Mom.

Grandmother Green surrounded by family. L to R -- Grandfather Victor Green, Uncle Bob Green, Father Ken Green, Mother Joyce Green and me, unable to keep a straight face.

Taking a church trip with Grandmother Green to Magic Mountain in 1975. I don't think the matching shirt/blouse was planned.

Left Speechless

I Feel Bad For Laughing

Everyone's Got a Skill, Even Jub Jub

Wouldn't You Hate to Live Next Door?

Subway Ride or Colonoscopy?

In a White Shirt?

That's Gotta Hurt

Too Much for the Pool Filter

This Thanksgiving the Tables Will Be Turned

Who Needs a Roomba?

I'm Going to Start Doing This in Meetings (Without Explanation)