Spoiler Alert: If you haven’t seen the film and hope to remain surprised, do not read further. Return (please) after you too have experienced this hit sensation … your feedback is encouraged. 

It begins with a song and dance sequence. 150 dancers braving 110 degree Hollywood Heat on a sun-drenched concrete ramp between the 105 and 110 freeways, leaping and spinning from their traffic-jammed cars in joyful ecstacy. They don carefree smiles, abandoning their vehicles for a spin with strangers without a backward glance.

That’s how my morning begins … with a musical number. How about you? And in LA? Really? Bumper to bumper traffic, yes. A happy song and dance on a swelteringly hot day in a traffic jam, um, not so much.

But … the first hook was thrown. Something just different enough to be Intriguing. One Point for La La Land.

So the film begins with a carefree “opening number.” And, they have something in common, these drivers. Dreams and Hope.

Enter our two protagonists, driving the only two unaffected cars. These two characters behave like normal, annoyed, California drivers … there’s a pulsing honk and a middle finger flipped as the harried driver Sebastian (aka Ryan Gossling) revs by the distracted driver  Mia (aka Emma Stone).

There’s the second hook, and we didn’t even see it coming. Fantasy and reality mixed artfully together to catch us off guard and draw us in. The Hollywood Hopeful and the Jazz Purist with a Dream. And they aren’t perfect heroes. They each have an edge to their personality. It’s a well-used plot in a theatrical setting, so, again I ask, why does this film have so many in its thrall?

Perphaps its the blend … Amidst the traditionally, popular classic Hollywood musical design, Damien Chazelle weaves a believable story with two genuine individuals. Note: This isn’t a commentary on acting or singing or who deserves the Oscar. It’s simply recognition that zany unrealism and two real people create a diverting film experience.

La La Land is all glittery and sparkle and fake. But Mia and Sebastian — their Hopes and Dreams and the frustrations they encounter — they are real!

Mia auditions and auditions (been there/done that/I can relate). She is thwarted, ignored, dismissed and declined. Seb dreams of opening a true jazz club. He has a specific location in mind but no cash flow — and an attitude. Being true to his art isn’t enough to pay the bills. Feeling like a failure in not only his eyes but Mia’s as well, he surrenders his Dream for a regular paycheck. He compromises. Meanwhile, Mia supports him as best she can but keeps fighting for her Dream to Act.

Many of us can relate to one or both of these “characters.” We put ourselves out there and get shown the door. We open our hearts and get rejected. We adjust our dreams and settle instead of continuing to fight toward our true aspirations. We reach for the stars, dancing among them for a time, but must descend back to earth when the sun rises.

In an elegant effort to be true to her self, Mia writes and stages her own play. It’s her dream moment and despite seemingly endless touring commitments, Seb promises to be there for her. Oh, we all know what’s bound to happen. We see it coming. Seb gets roped into (or … allows himself to be ropped into??) a photo shoot and is unable to reach the theatre on time. He misses her performance. He breaks Mia’s heart. She’s done. Done with La La Land and him. She leaves and goes home.

Seb stays. I mean for all intents and purposes, he made it. He got the “golden apple,” his name on the record and a place on tour before thousands of fans. But the sacrifice of his Dream, and the fact that he lost his love along the way, gives it a bitter taste. So when the call comes in with an opportunity for Mia, he gets excited! He sets their differences aside and brings her back. And, we’re all drawn in for Mia’s final audition.

Sebastian and Mia love each other. That much is clear. But, this is La La Land where idealized images, music and real life are blended together. We’ve seen that from the beginning. And even with a score underlying it, real life doesn’t always live up to the drama in the movies.

The ending of La La Land is much disputed. Some like it. Some get it. Some hate it. But as Mia says in her audition song, life is messy. When you jump in the Seine, sometimes you catch a cold. But, despite that, the question you have to ask yourself is … would you do it again?

La La Land delivers lovely imagery is grounded in truth. That’s the final hook. See, the story is timeless … it’s about giving and taking, winning and losing, sacrificing and growing. It’s about Dreaming, Hoping and Loving. And, in the end, sometimes Love isn’t strong enough. Sometimes the happily ever after you get isn’t the one you expect. But when the film ends, both seem happy with their lives. Mia became a film actress with a handsome husband and beautiful daughter while Seb opened that pure jazz bistro.

La La Land gives us Hope for our Dreams and Escape from the Dramas of the day and the world. It’s clever and pretty. But in the end, life in La La Land is not all glitter and sparkle. The film reminds us that we may have to adjust and make sacrifices. We might lose the people we love along the way. We are all fools but Life is messy.

And that closing dream song and dance sequence which highlights the Might Have Been Moment — the one people debate as they exit the theatre — that’s the final Hook.

 

“Here’s to the ones who dream. Foolish as they may seem. Here’s the hearts that ache. Here’s to the mess we make.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

I get Sentimental and Reflective during the Holidays. It starts at Thankgiving, continuing thru Christmas and New Year’s Eve. I have Traditions during these “Holiday Seasons” that bring me Joy and Tears. There’s this Stephen Curtis Chapman Christmas song that touches me so deeply it makes me weep. And amidst all my crazy outings and web site searches for just the right present for everyone on my list, I think about Christmases past as well as friends and family members near and far — and those special people who’ve departed this earth for a new adventure.

For me, Christmas isn’t the brightly wrapped packages, though I do enjoy them. It’s about a greater Gift than something found under a Tree.  It’s about Love and Connecting to those dear to me. I think about the Swiss Cheese my Uncle David used to bring and the great hugs he gave, the Slippers my Gram made me, the smell of my Grandfather’s pipe and that personal Coconut Cream pie my Grandmother made. I think about the Ray Conniff Singers and sneaking downstairs to listen to the GrownUps play Tripoly. And I think about waiting on the stairs to come down and see what Santa brought.

Every Christmas for the past 17 years I’ve visited Santa at the Somerset Collection with at least one of my kids. Afterward, I write an email note and send it with that year’s photo. I have a dear friend — my Albion “big brother” — who tells me how much he looks forward to that letter. It’s truly the only time we Connect all year long. It’s a Special moment when I see his email pop up in my In Box … to hear how he’s doing — how is family is doing.

I have other Traditions like that … I’m sure we all do. And they aren’t about ribbons or packages. They are about the people I share Time with.

So many people come and go quickly. Some stay for a while and leave footprints on our hearts and we are never, ever the same — a quote from Flavia I discovered during my Kappa Alpha Theta years at Albion College. But that quote has a part three. See, some of those people leave deep footprints, shape us, and perhaps … though we don’t want them to … eventually choose to move on down their path.

The Gifts these people give us may come in glittery wrapping paper and become treasures of the heart. I have at least three bracelets made up of black and creme plastic beads. My son gave them to me when he was four or five. He cashed in prize tokens at GameWorks for them. Pretty sure they were made in Japan … the lettering on the beads gives me that impression.

I have other items like those bracelets … a sparkly ring my daughter bought at her school Santa’s Workshop  a now tarnished charm I added to a silver chain given to me by a friend after a play we did together, a “cruise director” Boyd’s Bear my brother and sister-in law gave me — guess that means I’m their favorite social director, letters from girls I performed with and a doll their mom made me, a play which a friend wrote and gave me, and a very out of date ski sweater given to me by my husband.

I still wear the bracelets. And the ring and necklace. Heck, I still wear that sweater — it’s super warm and looks good with leggings now that I removed the mega shoulder pads. The Cruise Director sits on my desk while the Maria doll has a place on my dresser. I read the play and the letters from time to time. Each of these items reminds me of times past and special people who’ve made a difference in my life.

Each of these items means something to me. Each of them tells a story and has value. I have gifts that come with “stories,” making them all the more relevant to me years later. They may not arrive in sparkly packages or boast ribbons and bows, but they brighten my heart and I treasure them.

When it comes to Christmas shopping, I work from lists.  I have the lists that were given to me. But, I prefer to select on my own, honestly. I like to come up with creative ways to show those dear to me how well I know them … Selecting something not specifically asked for is my way of shopping without a net! Dangerous, yes. But very rewarding when you see that look in their eye as they open something chosen just for them.

Only a few days remain before Christmas. My mind drifts to the people who’ve left Footprints on my heart. Some remain near and I enjoy them today. Some I see only rarely. Some have moved out of my life and I miss them. But … They are no less a part of me today than they were during those days we hung out together.

If you have people like that, take time to remind them that they give Meaning to your life. That they Gave Meaning once. Remind them that though you may not spend Time together anytime soon, that does negate the impact they have had on your life. And, because of their very Simple Gift of Self, you will never, ever be the same again.

All that Glitters is not wrapping paper.

Huh … now that I think of it, that IS the Meaning of Christmas …

Merry Christmas to All … God Bless Us Every One ………….. Jenni

 

It’s December. There is snow on the ground and flakes falling from the sky. I have a list a mile long and my shoulders are tense as I contemplate the things left to do. It’s chilly outside. My toes are more than a little cold. But more significantly, today is the day I am ringing the bells for the Salvation Army outside the Royal Oak Post Office.

This day is very special to me. I do this every December. It’s a day that reminds me that others are not so fortunate as I … it’s a day I set aside to work to give those individuals a little bit of holiday joy. It’s a day I try and offer that same cheer to people I’ve never met and will most likely never see again. As I ring the bell, I offer a bit of healing light to those who pass by me … a little bit of Christmas spirit to brighten their day.

I ring the bell constantly as I stand there. I want others to hear the call. And I smile. I have my Christmas Playlist shuffling on my iPhone with earbuds in. It’s playing just loud enough to entertain me through the constant jingle of that brass bell, occasionally adding to my rhythm. But it’s not loud enough that I can’t speak to the people who walk up those steps to mail their cards, letters and packages.

Many who enter the post office have long faces. The rush of the season gets to them like it gets to me. I swear I have an Anxiety attack for the first week or so of December every year. The pressure, shopping, traffic, decorating, baking, lists of projects, hassle and stress of selecting just the right thing for everyone on my list gets to me. And I lose focus on what is truly significant about this time of year.

People … Love … and the Redeeming Gift of Grace.

I can’t offer Grace. But, as I ring the bell, I offer a bit of myself and the love, light and healing energy that is a part of me. I bestow it like a shield around them. How do I do that? I smile. I speak gentle, hopeful, welcoming words to all — even if they don’t put loose change or dollars in the red bucket. I try to remind them that there is a merry, healing Sparkle around them when I wear my Disney Princess Santa Hat with his silver glittery snowflakes and hot pink glow.

One more thing … I say Merry Christmas to everyone who passes by me. Some utter it in return. Some nod. Some say nothing. But, I reach out … and that is my Gift.

There’s a lot of Darkness in the world … especially after the grueling election that polarized this nation in 2016. Enough of that. Now is a time of healing. I don’t care who you voted for or what your politics are. This season is about Hope and a Promise.

The Present wrapped in shiny paper is not the Gift I seek … it’s Time with the people important to me. What Glitters in my Heart is the Laughter we’ve shared, the Conversations I replay in my mind, the Touch of a Hand or a Hug, the Smile you gave me as we left each other. The Gift I long for most comes not with a bow but with Moments and Memories … in the Message that reminds me that we are important to each other no matter how far away or how limited our Moments Together might be.

The bell glitters off the sunlight as I ring it. The change falling into the Red Bucket is brighter than the decorations hung around the town. The smiles — when they come my way — give me something back. And today, I found more joy than I can say when a nice gentleman bought me a Peppermint Mocha. This gesture warmed me to my frozen toes … a reminder of selfless acts of kindness.

Yes, I still have a list and many things to do. But today I work for those who I don’t know and who will never know me.  The Bell I hold isn’t Silver or Gold. But it has value to me. And it will bring Joy to the World.

— Jenni

Though I’m a child of the 70’s and 80’s, I’m a TV-product of the 90’s. During the 90’s, I was sucked into Charmed, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel and Ghost Whisperer. Not sure where the fascination with Magic, Ghosts and Demon-Slaying came from, but there you have it.

My 11-year old daughter and I have successfully completed our Netflix binge-watching of both Ghost Whisperer and Charmed. She too is fascinated by Magic and Ghosts, and the occasional demon slaying. As we watched, though, I recognized one thing these shows all have in common: Perfect Lips.

Rose McGowan (Paige on Charmed Seasons 4-8) always had perfect lips. No matter how many demons she encountered, her lips remained pristine … Red Lips that never mussed or faded and shone with heavy gloss. In the Final Season, Kaley Cuoco (now of Big Bang Theory) became a regular. Her lips were painted a natural shade but with that same thick, shiny perfect gloss.

Now, I like Make-up. I’ve been playing with it since I was little. I like to try out new colors. I like to have manicured nails. And I like to paint my face and create smokey eyes like any girly girl. I know how to use it, mostly. I experiment and spend quality time at the Lancome counter. But, no matter how many Lipsticks or Lip Glosses I buy, I can’t achieve that glossy shimmer that Rose and Kaley mastered on Charmed.

So what is it … this thick, shiny flawless look that lasts even after kissing a guy or vanquishing demons? And how do I create it … me, whose only demon battles occur in my dreams or sans potions during a tough day at the office. What gloss do I have to buy to achieve it? What brush do I use to paint lips to create a look that won’t crack or fade?

It’s not Dior, I’ve tried it. And that’s pretty much the top of the line. What is the secret formula? Who sells it? What brand is it? Where do I get it? How do I create “the look”? It’s much to shiny to be petroleum jelly and that’s the thickest gloss I can think of.

And that brings me to the next questions, how many breaks in action did it take to film one episode of Charmed? How many applications were necessary to keep the perfect lips perfect for 43 minutes? Was there a Lip Person on staff?

How Shallow am I, you may ask, to be concerned with creating perfect lips amidst the realities of today. Obsess much, Jenni? But I want “the look.” I want lovely, shiny lips … Perfect Lips.

But, Perfection is impossible. Perhaps it can be created on screen with a staff of Lip People and Directors shouting “Cut!” to pause the action for addition of a new lacquer of shine. Oh, I recognize the impossibility of achieving lip precision of this magnitude. I’ve learned to love myself as I am, lipstick free most days. But can the same be said for today’s teens? For today’s young women? Or are they too trying to achieve some TV-promoted concept of the “Ideal Look.”

I tell my daughter, there is no such thing as Perfect. That she is beautiful as she is. That no matter what she saw on Charmed (and Alyssa Milano made some very questionable fashion choices) that she is loved not because of how she manages her lipstick, hair and clothing but for her heart, kindness, compassion and spirit. When she once asked me if she looked Fat, I was horrified that a healthy, active and very normal 11-year-old would ask that question.

But Hollywood projects an image that many of us — myself included at times — are tempted to emulate. And, these Hollywood Stars make it all look so easy. The actresses are uber-thin with shiny, extension-laden, highlighted hair and trendy, fitted clothing. They have smooth clump-free painted lips and smile or pout, displaying their perfect lip gloss. But then, taking care of themselves and presenting the best of themselves is their job … a trainer, hair stylist or make-up artist is part of their packaging. They have Staff to present them to the world in a specifically defined way. But, I bet inside their own four walls, they are just like you and me, albeit a little thinner due to the fact the TV cameras add poundage.

The Hollywood life is defined by the camera … Perhaps that isn’t really “ideal” either. To live a life in the spotlight and be judged by the world by their looks. Kinda sad, really.

So I want Perfectly Glossed Lips. Yeah, okay I do. But, I’m not going to become obsessed. I’m going to present the best of myself possible, that’s just who I am. But there are days I go out without make-up. Days I opt to wear my comfy yoga pants and a cozy sweatshirt with my hair swinging in a high ponytail, no eye make-up on. And — ya know what? I don’t care who sees me that way … It’s real and it’s an aspect of who I am.

Yeah, I have a couple extra pounds or a few grey hairs I’d like to get rid of. But at 50, I feel really good about how I feel and how I look. I take care of myself, yes, and find joy in the woman I have become along this crazy journey. I’m good with me … Just the way I am. I hope my daughter continues to love and honor herself for who she is, not define herself based on some Hollywood stereotype. I will do everything in my power to help her.

But … if anyone knows what Lip Gloss creates that shiny 90’s lacquered look with staying power, I’d still really like to know …

— Jenni

I haven’t written much lately. The summer of 2016 has been filled with activities and projects that have dominated my time and consumed my creative energy. It’s all good … just busy.

Much of what I write reflects observations I make and my feelings and thoughts about them. And though I haven’t taken time to commit pencil to paper (or fingers to keyboard), my voyeuristic nature hasn’t been idle. So yesterday, I sat outside on my deck catching rays — pencil and paper in hand — and wrote.

I’ve been to the beach.

Yes, I’ve recently returned from our annual up north trip, spending seven glorious days in Elk Rapids where my morning coffee view included a beautiful beach and the crystal blue water of Lake Michigan. I spent each day of my vacation on that beach, watched every sunset and dug my toes into the soft warm sand every chance I could.

It was a good vacation. I know it was a good vacation because when I got home it took a couple days to scrub the sand out from my toes and skin.

Each morning, I was the first one up, settling onto an Adirondack chair on the side porch of our Victorian rental to drink my coffee and do some observing — or as my Aunt PJ would say ” do some noticin’.”

I “noticed” many families with young kids on the beach, on the playground or in the grassy picnic area nearby. As I have a teenage son and preteen daughter, I am well aware of the fleeting nature of those years with young children clamoring for my attention and calling out “play with me mama.” Though it may seem they will never end and you will never find a moment’s peace — especially when you just sat on your lounge chair and you hear that call to play on the sand, climb on the jungle gym or splash with them in the lake, they really aren’t limitless. One day, they will stop asking. One day before you know it, they will prefer their “thing” to time with mom or dad.

So, as I sat on the porch in the mornings and then later on the beach with my book, I heard those same youthful requests. But, instead of parents racing to the waves for a splash or digging in the sand to create an epic sand castle, I noticed a lot more parents scrolling near their kids than strolling with them.

Now, when my kids were younger, cell phones were for talking on and were typically relegated to the side table on the hotel room or — in early years — a bag in the car. Texting and surfing the web with Google or Apps was unheard of. But, even then, distractions and denials were available. I mean, it was my vacation too … I needed some down time. But I picked my moments for peace and chose to say yes to sand pizzas, making trees for castles and splashing in the waves too.

As I watched, there was a disturbing number of grown ups paying more attention to their screens then what they were strolling by. Too many dads on calls. Too many moms checking Facebook. Too many adults walking their pets while scrolling Twitter.

Guess it’s a sign of the times. But it made me wonder … What are our priorities nowadays? For me, I’d rather experience the moment than “Check In” or Tweet about it. As Aerosmith put it: I don’t wanna miss a thing.

When the day comes that your playful son who used to be an early riser and watch the sun rise by your side prefers to sleep in, hang out on his hammock or go off on a bike ride by himself and your social daughter opts to draw, play Minecraft or FaceTime her friends in her vacation home bedroom, will you experience a Harry Chapin moment with Cat’s In The Cradle running through your mind? Or, will you build those sandcastles and bury your son in the sand during the moments available to you?

As I strolled the beach with my daughter and tried to hit the ball during a game of beach volleyball with my son and his friend, I was grateful for the moments we shared over the years with the sand between our toes. I am grateful they still like to come to the beach and that every summer my son and I have our photo taken at one of the sunsets. I’m grateful he looks forward to this week and plans for that photo with me. I’m grateful my daughter always joins me for that final morning walk on the beach. Oh, my moments with them are different than the days when they were “small.” But we still enjoy our time. I planted the seed that “Connecting” is important. And I continue to make the most of every moment that comes along with them.

I prefer Strolling to Scrolling. With my head bowed too long over my phone, I just might miss something. The best moments can be fleeting. One day, the sand toys won’t make that annual trip to the beach. Make sure they’ve been well used before that happens.

— Jenni 

 

I read in my son’s high school news publication that stress and anxiety are a reality that today’s students have to face.

Admittedly, it’s been a “few years” since I was in high school. But I remember that time in my life fairly well. I remember feeling “stressed out” on occasion when Judy Lebryk slammed us with a paper, or when my chem experiment had 98% error Again, or when I’d prep for Mr Ellis’ Algebra tests (math was hard!). I remember my brother’s Commodore 64 crashing at Midnight while he was finishing a paper and the drama that followed. And I recall a LOT of homework and hours spent studying — as well as some frustration over grades and general High School angst. But … I don’t remember “Anxiety.”

Furthermore, I don’t recall discussing “Anxiety” with my friends. Heck, if I’m honest, I don’t think I heard the word “Anxiety” until about 10 years ago when I ran smack dab into it. And, I definitely wasn’t in high school at that time.

So, it more than concerns me to learn that according to the American Psychological Association, 48.7% of college students around the country seeks counseling from anxiety-related mental health concerns. In fact, the American Institute of Stress (heck, I didn’t even know there was such a thing) reports that 3 out of 4 doctor visits are stress related.

This article informed me that high school counselors have noted an escalation in stress and anxiety in recent years. And that got me wondering … why IS that? Why is Anxiety running rampant in our high school students … and in our world?

I have my theories, most of them related to the intensifying pace we accept as “normal” and the constant technological and informational bombardment we experience.

We go go go. I go pretty fast myself, from my day job to schlepping a kid somewhere to making dinner to a meeting for my second job to grabbing time with a friend. I juggle house work with work work and emails and messages and keeping track of my kids’ schedules and projects. At times my heart races. And I don’t have to worry about my “future” or which college will let me in. Today’s teens manage a lot more than I ever did.

I’ll date myself when I say I remember the 1 a.m. playing of the Star Spangled Banner and the “white noise” that followed. At that time, TV and all electronic stimuli turned Off. Something that few can say happens anymore. We are perpetually bombarded with light and sound from our cell phones. We spend our days not writing paper memos but starring at a flashing cursor and furiously typing.

I organize events in my “day job.” And I organize my kids events … and my personal activities in my “off hours.” I run between my Chamber job and my Water Works job as well as yoga classes and rehearsal schedules. I have a Google Calendar on-line so I can keep up with not only what I have planned but my son’s film projects and social outings, my husband’s social, Scout and theatre commitments, as well as my daughter’s ballet classes, student council and girl scout meetings and choir practices. Plus, I have a paper calendar to back it up, just in case.

This past weekend, I ran a big event. It’s honestly not a stressful experience — I’m very organized.  Just have lists of things to do to make it happen and run it the day of, a few fires to put out when things don’t go as planned and long, long hours. (Did I say LONG hours?) Anyway, I have to remind myself to do the “normal things” like eat 3 meals and drink water. I’ve paid the price when I didn’t take care of myself. And even when I do, I find that PTED sets in and sends me straight into the darkness.

PTED … Post Traumatic Event Disorder syndrome … is what happens after the stress of an event. I struggle with sleep and find more than a bit of Anxiety surging through my skin.  The only thing I can do is keep perspective …breathe deep, drink milk, eat Peach yogurt and bananas and — when I’m too keyed up to sleep — either read a book or watch TV til fatigue takes over and I come out of the darkness. Two days post event, I’m fine. Like nothing happened. Explaining that I’m in the throws of PTED is hard for those unafflicted.

So … Anxiety. Where is it coming from? Why are our teens so affected by it? How do we stop it? Perhaps it can’t be stopped. So … how do we Manage it?

For me … I do yoga. A lot of yoga. And Barre3. I walk and take deep breaths — and I don’t scroll Twitter, Text Messages or Facebook during that time. I drink less caffeine. I diffuse and use Young Living essential oils that support natural relief. I have a playlist to wind down with. I generally put my phone away when I get home and I spend very little time on my computer after work hours. Instead I hang out and read or binge watch episodes of Charmed or Ghost Whisperer with my daughter as we snuggle on the couch. Or I play with my cat. Some days, I meet a friend for a drink or just to hang out. Other days, I color. Or, I write … using paper and a pencil.

I unplug. And it helps. Most of the time. Sometimes the only solution is to lay low until I can come out of the darkness. Hide from the noise or demands of others. Other times it helps to talk to someone — a friend or even a therapist — about the surge of emotion and the anxiety it whips into a frenzy.  To feel the touch of a hand or the warmth of someone holding onto you until you can stop vibrating.

Sometimes there are prescriptions or medications necessary — and as Kristen Bell recently stated — there should be no stigma associated with self-care. Anxiety and the panic or depression it elicits can be paralyzing and it’s difficult to cope alone.

Our world Buzzes. And Anxiety is the pollution from that Buzzing. Breathe deep and know that you aren’t alone.

— Jenni

 

 

The Detroit Zoo is not far from the street where I live. I’ve visited there regularly for years — have been a member for years. As they were growing up, my kids and I spent a lot of time there. My son had his first PB&J in his stroller while we watched the construction of the Polar Bear exhibit. Though at the time, I’m pretty sure he was more excited about the trucks than the animals.

As they grew older, I packed lunches and took them in a wagon. We’d arrive at the zoo when it opened and take the train to the back. Pretty much the first thing my son asked was when and where we were going to eat lunch. Lunch at the zoo always happened early in the trip. We’d then make our way from the back to the front, stopping at different exhibits along the way.

The Zoo has changed a lot over the years. The Elephants are gone. We have a Kangaroo exhibit and a chance to feed the giraffes. There are a lot of new food areas and the play area — where my kids and I spent a ton of time — is dramatically different and smaller. My kids have grown and so we spend less time there. But recently they added a beautiful new Penguinarium. So today, I decided to go to the zoo.

I arrived with thousands. I’ve never seen so many people at the gate. The road into the entrance was backed up onto the freeway. At 10:10am — 10 minutes after the official opening — I found one of the few remaining parking spaces near the top of the parking deck. I parked and headed in — without the cooler, wagon or stroller I’d taken for so many years. It was just me. And as I successfully crowd-walked my way to the entrance and into the Zoo, I happily gazed around to take it all in.

It was a beautiful day and there were so many families. So many school groups. So many kids. I couldn’t help but smile. I remembered those days … those end of the year school trips with kids full of boundless energy. And, as I donned my headphones, selected a playlist and began my walk toward the back, I felt joyful. I was at the zoo.

There isn’t one time I go to the zoo, though, where a memory of a play I was part of in college doesn’t come to my mind. It was called Zoo Story — a one act drama written by Edward Albee. My friend Donna directed it. My friends Matt and Gary played the two male characters. And my job as “Prop Master” was to make a sack of blood that Matt would wear until the final moments when he would bleed out on stage.

The play debuted in 1960 and explored themes of isolation, loneliness, miscommunication, social disparity and dehumanization in a commercial world. And days after the two tragedies in Orlando, these themes and that story rattle about in my mind and remind me that those themes still exist and that they have terrible consequences. See Albee worked his ideas out in the Theatre of the Absurd where goofy people act nuts and do really crazy things. But the Theatre of the Absurb is … life. It’s all around us. It’s prevalently displayed in the hate, in the intolerance and in the technologically-centered, disconnected society we have become.

In the play, there’s the self-satisfied, bourgeois Peter, who is just sitting on a bench minding his own business, and then there is Jerry the outsider — the outcast who disrupts his life and sets all the crazy in motion. It’s so normal as it begins that I see glimmers of it in modern life.

“I took the subway down to the Village so I could walk all the way up Fifth Avenue to the zoo. It’s one of those things a person has to do; sometimes a person has to go a very long distance out of his way to come back a short distance correctly.” – Jerry

Okay … so back to the Zoo today. I stood a while and watched the Tiger. He was napping at first … seems a lot of the animals there are when I visit. But as I stood there, he awoke and gave himself a bath much the same way as my cat does … she is just smaller with fewer teeth.

But as I watched, kids shouted at the tiger, trying to draw its attention. To get it to entertain them or smile for the camera or other such weirdness. The kids yelled at these innocent animals who are trapped in a compound, commanding them to entertain them. And I thought about how crazy it is to cage wild beasts for the entertainment of the human population… the bourgeoisee … and well, it got me thinking about Albee and Zoo Story and how the very different characters in that play came together to remind us how separated and crazy we all are. That we are people who need people … and who desperately reach out to find acceptance and understanding. And we are aggressive and unkind to anything or anyone different who isn’t doing what we think they should be doing.

And I thought about my friends Donna and Matt, who I don’t see very often, but who played a really significant role in my life for many years — who gave me the gifts of acceptance and understanding during the tumultuous “college years” as well as more than a few years after graduation — and who still hold a special place in my heart today.

And I thought about how sad it is that there is so much hate that people like Jerry in the play have to reach out to find someone to talk to … to connect to. That they have to justify themselves or yell at others or or pull a knife or shoot people to get attention. And I thought about all the hate that prompts actions of distruction.  I thought about Jerry and Peter fighting for a bench … and the blood … and Jerry’s final word.

“Oh, Peter, I was so afraid I’d drive you away. [He laughs as best he can.] You don’t know how afraid I was you’d go away and leave me. And now I’ll tell you what happened at the zoo. I think … I think this is what happened at the zoo … I think. I think that while I was at the zoo I decided that I would walk north … northerly, rather … until I found you … or somebody … and I decided that I would talk to you … I would tell you things … and things that I would tell you would … Well, here we are. You see ? Here we are. But … I don’t know … could I have planned all this? No … no, I couldn’t have. But I think I did…. You won’t be coming back here any more, Peter; you’ve been dispossessed. You’ve lost your bench, but you’ve defended your honour.” – Jerry

See … I’ve been to the zoo. And despite all the joy I feel walking about in the lovely summer weather gazing at beautiful animals and energetic children — as well as recalling the many happy moments I’ve shared there with my kids on the train, in the play area and among the animals, the Zoo also makes me a feel a little uncomfortable. My enjoyment of creatures confined to cages unsettles me. And the sometimes aggressive nature of the kids — and the parents as well — as they shout at the animals and each other upsets me.

And I think of Orlando. And wonder if the disconnect and the hatred and the visciousness began with someone feeling isolated like the characters Albee wrote. If it began with yelling at people or things that don’t do what someone decides they should be doing. I see resemblances to a play and a world where characters lives were shattered with bloodshed and how it all began with inability to communicate.

I see brokenness in people, relationships, and our world. I read it in Zoo Story … I see it at the Zoo.

Like the character of Jerry in the play, I’ve gone a long distance to come back to my point. See, Zoo Story the play brought me in contact with people that positively impacted my life … Matt and Donna specifically … and crafted lifelong memories of laughter and more and fused me to something bigger with lasting power. So we CAN choose to connect and find commonalities. To put down our cell phones to gaze into the face of someone we care for. To make time to understand instead of separate from someone different.

To stop yelling at the animals and just enjoy time in the sunshine at the zoo …

— Jenni