Spending
time with my daughter
(photo by Bert Fan) |
SAN FRANCISCO … The nicest part of taking off for California to honor my old parish
priest on his 90th birthday was spending time with my daughter Iris
Willow and my son-in-law Bertrand Fan. As I explained last week, we decided to
take advantage of city life and did three major theatrical productions – both
the nationally renowned American Conservatory Theater’s Satchmo at the Waldorf in the ornate Geary Theater and the
working-class Marsh Studio Theater’s production of Echo Brown’s Black Virgins Are Not For Hipsters in
the Mission District. Both were extraordinary … But we tried our luck, decided
to go for broke and paid $100 each to see a traveling version of a Broadway
musical as well.
JERSEY BOYS
… I’ve never made it to Broadway, although I’ve seen my share of musicals. But
never as professional or polished a production as this. Watching it in the
landmark Orpheum Theatre helped … I had a vague memory of Frankie Valli and the
Four Seasons. But soon as I heard Sherry baby, it all came flooding back to me.
That classic early Sixties sound. Part of my adolescent yearning. And that
later hit, Big Girls Don’t Cry … These weren’t world-changing songs. But they
were pop hits. It’s about that great American dream of success. And Valli does
succeed. But the story is kind of a sad one. Yes, he and his buddies made it
from street kids to pop sensations, but at quite a cost. Betrayals. Suicides.
Huge disappointments. So, in the end, in spite of all the fame and fortune,
it’s a bittersweet story … But nothing bitter about the production. It was
fantastic music, dancing, costumes, staging, everything. What you’d expect from
an amazing show like this … And it taught so many lessons as only theater can
do. Making other people’s lives come alive in such pointed scenes that you
can’t help talking away things in your own life from the dazzle of the acting
and emotional avalanche of experience recreated … I’m hoping to go see more
theater, locally, in Denver and back in SF, when I get back there. I can’t
think of any artistic medium that moves me more than live theater.
(Photo by Iris Willow) |
SCOOT … Maybe
the most surprising and fun activity Iris and I had were renting electric motor
scooters and tooling around the San Francisco hills, visiting friends, going to
museums, taking in some of the great restaurants that seem to be as prolific as
San Juan boletes in a good year. Scoot, the name of the service, uses smart
phone technology to actually run the scooters. You get one at one site, drive
it around, take it to a battery-replenishing site or park it and use another
one. The smart phone keeps track of everything and takes the money from your
on-file card. You don’t deal with people. Just machines. They have a range of
20+ miles, which works in SF, but maybe not in many sprawling cities … But we
drove all around Golden Gate Park. Visited the new De Young Museum thanks to
poet buddy Dennis Dybeck. Met up with poet Paul Fericano and sem buddy Kerry
Yates and had a great lunch at Pacific Catch. Toured a couple museums,
including the Contemporary Jewish Museum and a great show, Chasing Justice –
artwork depicting the union organizing of some great Russian-Jewish activists
in the automobile industry in the 1930s … Easy to park. Gasoline-free. We even
found Vermont St. – the twisting roadway in Bernal Heights that’s as crooked as
Lombard Street but without the tourists … If you’re adventuresome, let me recommend
Scoot as the best way to tour San Francisco on one’s own.
Art, Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer, Kit Muldoon, SETH at a performance in Denver |
KIT MULDOON
… Many in Colorado’s poetry community mourned the loss of this dear heart, who
succumbed to cancer last week after a long illness. There was a memorial
reading at the legendary Mercury Café in Denver, where she often read,
including at the annual end-of-the-year Erotic Festival of Poetry. I got to
read the poem below I’d written in her honor, as did Ted Vaca (who offered the
near-homeless Muldoon a hospice room in his house with his family for the last
six months of her life – bless him!), Jimi Bernath, Roseanna Frechette and many
other of her poet friends. She will be missed.
Kit on Valentine's at the Merc (Photo by Andy O'Leary) |
THE TALKING GOURD
Picking
Red
-for
Kit Kalriess Muldoon
There it was. A
red kerchief left
in the Denver Museum
parking
lot. Unclaimed.
Run over
Do I stoop to pick
it up
& wave its
dust aloft
into my floating
world?
A gesture, maybe.
Like Kit's
all in red,
sharing
center stage with
the Erotic
Or conjuring stone
soup
for sodden poets
in the San
Juan shelter of
her worn van
Making more than
just
do, with meager
pickings
Making a feast.
That's it!
That’s Kit,
McRedeye sez
Making a feast of
adversities
And for us, in our
sadnesses
it’s picking up on
the red
brilliance she’s
left us
Not dead cloth
left behind
More fine scratch from the indefatigable, indomitable, irrepressable Bard of Wherever He May Be... let the Goodtimes roll forever. Imagine 20 miles a Scoot... a new way to keep Greeners within manageable reach. But not this one. He'll just grab another. Blowtorch Leo. Behold the reincarnation of Herb Caen, on steroids.
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