Tom

Thomas J. McGranahan, Sr., my friend and former coworker at Virginia Repertory Theatre (formerly Barksdale Theatre & Theatre IV) passed away last week from complications of cancer. He was a hardworking, funny, feisty, all-around good guy. I flew back to Richmond this past Memorial Day weekend for the funeral, which was packed, and rightly so. Tom had a lot of friends. A LOT.

Virginia Rep Artistic Director, Bruce Miller, wrote a moving blog post tribute to Tom, which you can find here. There was also a nice article about him in the Richmond Times-Dispatch. The only thing I will add is that I will personally miss hearing him call me (and every woman, really) "darlin'" as well as all his other Tom-isms that will no longer be heard in his high raspy voice, spoken at 1,000 miles per hour, to any passerby within earshot.

No doubt Tom is now cracking jokes with St. Peter and the angels over a liverwurst on rye.

"Nobody here but us chickens!"

Love & miss you, Tom.

Thomas Joseph McGranahan, Sr.

April 16, 1931 - May 23, 2013

Blessed be his memory.

Long overdue (or Movin' on up - part 2)

When I think about the circumstances that brought me to Richmond, VA, in June 2005, and my initial reaction to being there, I never could have predicted that I would grow to love (and now miss) it and its people so much. It truly is a special place with a big city heart and a small town feel. On its own, Richmond could be any city. It has all the requisite ingredients for an urban landscape... large and small businesses, real estate, mass transit, restaurants, sports teams, arts and culture, etc. But what makes it special is, of course, the people.

So,this is my long overdue thank-you-love-letter to Richmond, Virginia and all who dwell there, especially those I had the pleasure of knowing over the past seven years. And it was indeed a pleasure.

Theatre IV/Barksdale Theatre and the Richmond Theatre Community

I spent the first month and a half in Richmond unemployed. I was lonely, homesick, and (I'll just go ahead and say it) miserable. I had farmed out my resume to practically every arts organization in town as soon as I got there. Each and every time, the response was, "we're not hiring now, but we'll keep your resume on file." Not exactly music to my ears, especially with mounting expenses.

In late July I answered an ad in the paper for a part-time gig working for a Business Consultant and Executive Coach, Rich Russakoff. [I am probably the last person on earth who got a job answering an ad in the paper.] The work was interesting, helped pay some bills and Rich was wonderful to work with -- we still keep in touch. But I still needed something full-time.

Enter Michelle Prior, former Director of Development at Theatre IV/Barksdale Theatre. She called me one day in August. She was one of those people who "kept my resume on file." She had taken a job elsewhere and they were looking for an Annual Fund Manager. I interviewed with Michelle, Phil Whiteway and Bruce Miller, was hired, and started work on August 19.

I have never loved a job as much as I loved working at Theatre IV/Barskdale. Sure, it had its ups and downs, as does any job, particularly any non-profit job. But the ups far outweighed the downs, and I am grateful for each moment I got to be part of that remarkable staff, not to mention the opportunity to appear on stage. Truly a gift.

Thank you, Phil and Bruce, for taking a chance on me, and to all my former coworkers who made each day a joy -- Jennings, Liz, Tony, Kate, Katie, Brittany, Chase, Lucas, Tracy, Sara, Natalie, Andy, Ford, Jeanie, Gordon, Ronnie, Eric, Janine, Shannon, Laine, Jillian, BC, David, Jessica, Joy, Deejay, Sue, Sarah, Lynn, Marcia, Hans, Luke, Bruce, Wendy, Doug, Jenna, Derek, James, & Tom. Thank you, Richmond actors, directors, designers, technicians -- my FRIENDS -- for embracing me with open arms and becoming such an important part of my life. I think about you daily.

Rock Band

On my list of "wish-I-woulda"s before leaving Richmond would have been getting to know the local music scene a little better. It seemed like the indie music culture wasn't as in-your-face as I had expected, and to uncover it required some sleuthing. I did, however, get a chance to play a couple times in a "party band" for lack of a better term, thanks to a Theatre IV coworker, John, discovering that I played the piano. I played keyboards with The Nixon Years, which is how I met Greg, Ceci, Jesse, et. al. -- music loving friends who accepted me into their circle even though they constantly reminded me how "young" I was. 

Penny Lane Pub

I honestly can't remember the first time I went to Penny Lane Pub on 5th and Franklin. I know it was with Billy Christopher Maupin, and maybe some others, although the memory is lost in a haze of ale and cider. But it was early on in my Richmond life, and it was there that I got to sew my wild karaoke Hall & Oates. If I had a mantle, my Female Vocalist of the Year and Entertainer of the Year trophies would be on it.

Not only did I find my voice at Penny Lane, I found some great friends as well, namely Catalina, Pipe, Joe, Karen, and of course, KJ of the century, Jason Power. Some of my favorite Richmond memories happened at Penny Lane, so I thank you all for making that possible. 

Area 10 Faith Community

Through my friendship with Catalina and a well-placed neighborhood flyer, I learned that there was a new church starting up that was meeting at the Byrd Theater in Carytown. So I went. And I liked it. And a little while later I joined the worship team. And I liked that too. And then a couple summers later I volunteered on a service trip to Vietnam. And that was life-changing.

Thank you, Chris Barras, and thank you Laura, Gwenyth, Marci, George, Keith, Brittany, Helen, Marissa, Jessica, Terry and Bob for experiencing Vietnam with me and sharing the joy of the orphans of SS3. And thank you Bic, Pink, Dat, Thao and Xu for sharing your beautiful country--and your beautiful selves!

Mr. Jones, Ms. Freim, The Pattersons and the Other Joneses

[Of course I have to acknowledge my now-husband in this espistle!]

I met Robb at a New Year's Eve get-together five and a half years ago. We quickly became friends and it was just in time, because my life began heading in a direction I never would have anticipated. I leaned on his friendship a lot as I muddled my way through a divorce, drawing comfort from the fact that he too had been through a similar situation. A few years later, our relationship progressed to the point of a marriage proposal on October 29th, 2011 in Rodanthe, NC and we got married 5 years to the day after we first met. (It was the perfect example of Romans 8:28.)

Through Robb, I got to meet and become part of the lives of some other wonderful people -- his family. I owe a huge thank-you to Elaine Freim, Robb's sweet and generous mother, who has a heart bigger than Texas and is always willing to share it; Robb's sister, brother-in-law, nephews & niece -- Jennifer & Bill Patterson and Caleb, Nathan & Eleanor -- who graciously let me share their brother and uncle, [especially Caleb who, as he pointed out, has known Uncle Robbie since birth, which is longer than I have... duly noted] and who never hesitate to extend their love and hospitality; and finally Robb's dad, Don, and step-mom, Vicky, who lovingly ushered me into the world of "pickin'" and in the case of Don, provided me a glimpse as to the origin of some of Robb's traits. I am grateful to all of you for accepting me into your family and I look forward to seeing you all again soon!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Contrary to how it may have appeared, the decision to move to Minnesota was far from easy. I was finally at a point where I was content calling Richmond "home." But, it was time to go. While the move has presented its share of challenges, Robb and I both feel confident that it was the right decision at this point in our life together. Who knows... maybe we will be led back to Richmond in a year or two? Or Albequerque? Or Tanzania? Or Greenland? (Right, Nate?)

There are so many others who I could thank by name who made a lasting impact on me during my time in Richmond... my friends at the Mill, my Sanders family, my Quilters sisters, and so many more... suffice it to say that I love you ALL very much. And so I leave you with a scene that quite appropriately sums up how it felt to leave:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jmkG6pnr7-g

(I couldn't embed it because of copyright, blah blah blah.)

Love you all!

XOXO

A "White Christmas" review worth reading

The Richmond.com review of Barksdale Theatre's production of Irving Berlin's White Christmas got me revved up. I disagreed with many of the reviewer's observations, several of which I thought were rather absurd, as I voiced in my recent BLAHG post.

However, this morning, I was thrilled to read a review on RVANews.com that FINALLY accurately describes the show that I saw a few weekends ago. I hope you'll take time to read the whole thing, but here is a snippet:

Kevin Earley & Freddie Kimmel - Photo by Aaron Sutten

You’ve seen the classic film ... And this season, you’re cordially invited to rediscover the vintage spirit at Barksdale Theatre with, if you can believe it, even more spectacular song and dance numbers than the film’s Golden Era producers saw fit to include ... 

Almost everything out of [the cast members'] mouths had the house rolling, and by the time the grand finale swoops in with the most elaborate costumes yet, you’re so amped up from the jokes, the reunions, the glitter, and the talent, you’ll fall gratefully into the holiday classic to end all holiday classics, “White Christmas” ... 

[T]he whole production is a wistful reminder that, in the Fifties, shows were just so dang elegant, comedy was so uncluttered, the clothes, good lord, the clothes. And, with its historic feel and intimate setting, the Empire Theatre is just the place to make the whole thing pop ... 

White Christmas does exactly what it sets out to do: provide you with a couple of hours jam-packed with holiday festivities. The show’s lone disappointment occurs when the lights come up and it’s time to face 2010 again.

Thank you, Susan Howson, for your wonderful description of what, no doubt, is in the heart of every Richmonder who sees this production, including mine.

  

A "White Christmas" review rebuttal

Increasingly, the holidays seem to bring out the Grinch in people.

I was reminded of the Grinch Phenomenon when I read Liz Jewett's review on Richmond.com of Barksdale Theatre's production of Irving Berlin's White Christmas.

Ms. Jewett is a thoughtful and eloquent writer and I often agree with her reviews. And while I didn't disagree with some of her observations in this one, I believe she inappropriately and needlessly inserted her own Grinchy commentary by attacking elements of the show that do not necessitate comment. Like the fact that a Christmas show is typically cheery and upbeat. No-brainer, right?

Well.....

Illustration by Robert Meganck

"'White Christmas' [is] an attempt at a timeless, feel good Christmas story. Yet instead of timeless, the play merely feels static and stubbornly anachronistic, largely because of its insistence on 'old-fashioned' cheer to the point of a sugar coma.

"There’s a world of honest, human emotion that 'White Christmas' could have tapped into. It’s a play about two veterans after all, men who have seen death and violence, only to come home to a society that honors them more for being famous than for having fought. Yet any hint at a darker world that isn’t bedecked in tinsel is smothered in a holiday spirit so aggressive it practically berates the audience into following along."

It seems Ms. Jewett might be expecting some coal in her stocking this year.

Um........................................................... 

IT'S IRVING BERLIN'S WHITE CHRISTMAS!

Bing Crosby, Rosemary Clooney -- remember?!

This production isn't supposed to be the holiday musical version of "Saving Private Ryan." It is supposed to be a festive, celebratory occasion where the characters are intentionally forgetting about death, violence and that "darker world" by singing, dancing, and romancing. Punishing a famous holiday classic for not being serious enough seems a bit harsh.

I sat in the audience the same night Ms. Jewett did, next to two patrons whose preferred venue is Hanover Tavern. However, they enjoyed every single moment of White Christmas at the Empire Theatre, and I frequently heard murmurs of "wow," "fantastic," "outstanding." I'm fairly confident that I can speak for all three of us when I say we didn't feel one bit berated. To the contrary, we let the holiday spirit fall upon us of our own accord.

Perhaps the most Grinch-like sentiments came at the end of Ms. Jewett's review:

"...holiday spirit only works if it's coming from a genuine place, an honest place, and 'White Christmas,' despite the best efforts of all involved, ultimately chooses fake snow over the real thing. And it insults the audience by assuming they won’t know the difference."

This is metaphoric, but only to a degree. She is, of course, making reference to the snow that falls on the audience at the end of the show. It is not confetti, but more like dime-sized foamy puffs that evaporate before they hit the floor. I (and everyone around me) thought it was magical. I heard one patron say, "It's snowing in the Empire!"

Did they think it was real snow? Of course not. Did they feel that the show's positive energy and Christmas spirit were disingenuous or contrived? Doubtful. Did they leave the theatre that night, thinking they had seen an outstanding Broadway caliber feel-good holiday production? Absolutely.

Photo by Aaron Sutten

Christmas is about giving and sharing, a time when people come together and celebrate, when lightheartedness and kindness prevail. It is the one time of year when we have permission to forget about the ugliness in our world and instead, focus on its beauty.

If this show gives people the chance to escape the pressures and demands of their daily lives; if it gives them a pleasant distraction from the reality of loss and hardship; if it brings back fond memories of holidays spent with loved ones.... then I believe Barksdale's production of White Christmas is successfully embodying the spirit of the holiday season, and I sincerely believe the majority of Richmonders who see this show would enthusiastically agree.

The good news is that even the Grinch discovered the meaning behind the hoopla of Christmas. So certainly, Ms. Jewett will as well.

He puzzled and puzzled 

till his puzzler was sore. 

Then the Grinch thought of something 

he hadn't before! 

Maybe Christmas, he thought, 

doesn't come from a store. 

Maybe Christmas... perhaps... 

means a little bit more! 

And what happened then?

Well, in Whoville they say

that the Grinch's small heart 

grew three sizes that day. 

And then -- the true meaning 

of Christmas came through, 

and the Grinch found the strength 

of *ten* Grinches, plus two! 

A love letter to the Sanders Family

It's 8:00 p.m. No show tonight. *SIGH*

Smoke on the Mountain Homecoming closed last weekend at Barksdale - Hanover Tavern. It was the third in a trilogy of shows written by Connie Ray and conceived by Alan Bailey about the Sanders Family, a traveling North Carolina bluegrass gospel group in the late 1930s to mid-1940s. The first show, Smoke on the Mountain, was met with great success in the spring of 2007. I was fortunate to play "Denise" in that show, and in the following two productions, Sanders Family Christmas in 2008-09 and Homecoming in 2010.

Homecoming has closed, the trilogy is finished... but I just can't stop thinking about these amazing productions and even more about the amazing people that I have gotten to play with these three and a half years.

I'm sure Bruce knew it was a gamble asking me to be in this show. I hadn't acted since high school, so for me, it meant creaking open the archives and refamiliarizing myself with the jargon. It also meant dusting off my harp-playing skills (which, at that point, I hadn't put to use in 8 years), not to mention the piano and guitar.

Drew Perkins, our Musical Director and "Burl/Daddy" in all three shows, also took a gamble. Bruce at least had the advantage of knowing everyone in the cast -- Drew found himself in a room full of strangers, all with varying degrees of musical ability. He was charged with the task of making us sound like we knew what we were doing. If the first few rehearsals didn't drive him to drink, I don't know what would.

But somehow (perhaps divine intervention?), we pulled it off. We had a great run of Smoke and formed a fast and tight bond with each other that became closer-knit with each show. Even though the trilogy has concluded, I am confident the friendship will continue until we all meet in that big round-up in the sky.

So now, on this first non-show night in seven weeks (and even though I have already told them all how great I think they are), I am going to take advantage of the extreme self-indulgence that is blog-writing to publicly love on each of the members of this family. I hope my 10 followers will bear with me. 

Julie Fulcher: My first Mama. I never tired of watching you go head-to-head in the scripture quote-off with Rev. Oglethorpe or interact with the audience during your children's devotionals. It was all I could do to keep from bursting into a fit of laughter each time you scolded me. No one can smash a Junebug with more conviction or let a Christmas tree fall on her with more grace than you. As Vera, you demonstrated your deep devotion to your faith, to your family and to the music, all with a twinkle in your eye. I miss the dressing room conversations with beloved Aunt Judy, and with you. "God has given us two gifts, music and witness." 

David Janeski:  It was so fun to watch the transformation of Dennis from bashful minister-to-be to confident ex-military preacher extraordinaire. Playful yet serious, you captured the essence of Denise's polar opposite twin brother while simultaneously evoking emotion that not only made the audience teary-eyed, but routinely choked up the cast as well. Musically, you demonstrated your astounding talent by becoming a pro on the mandolin and bass during the course of these three shows. Truly amazing. I'm glad to have you as my brother and friend. "I'm the boy." 

Kelly Kennedy: My second Mama. You also approached Vera with a twinkle in your eye and fire in your heart. Your sweet smile and equally sweet voice were contrasted with Vera's fierce passion for scripture and getting right with Jesus. While you will probably disagree, you joined the family and moved into the character with the greatest of ease, just like the expert actor you are. Your portrayal of Vera/Mama was seamless and a joy to watch. It was an honor sharing the stage with you. "And sin sends us where? Everlasting hell!" 

Billy Christopher Maupin:  Few people possess the passion, energy, earnestness and musical talent that you combined to create the perfect preacher of Mt. Pleasant Baptist Church, Mervin Oglethorpe. How many times did we hear from audience members, "Mervin is just like the preacher at the church I grew up in!" Your genuine care for your flock couldn't have been more apparent. Yodeling might not be your cup o' tea, but I'd challenge anyone anywhere to find a better Mervin than our own BCM. Thanks for the traveling company -- just watch those spurs! "Amen." 

Drew Perkins: Our teacher, our leader, our fiddlin' friend. I think it's safe to say that your gamble paid off. Three sold-out productions later, we have you to thank for helping us get there. Your stories and jokes and records and doughnuts made being in the dressing room almost as fun as being on stage. Your generous heart and playful spirit shined through Burl and gave the audience a glimpse into the man behind the character that the rest of us had the pleasure of getting to know and love. Thank you for being a constant source of laughter and a musical inspiration to all of us. "We are the Sanders Family Singers, from up around Siler City." 

Aly Wepplo: Hey sis. June... the good daughter. "We know." I've seen you in many roles, and maybe I'm a bit biased, but I love your June. Smart, pretty, and wise beyond her years, just like you. June's sensibility is complemented by a very real vulnerability, which endeared her to my heart, as well as the audience's. You also flawlessly portrayed her unabashed honesty and tell-it-like-it-is attitude, all with a gesture and a smile. I'm grateful to have had the chance to be your sister, and even more to be your friend. "We like to talk a lot." 

Eric Williams: Your portrayal of Uncle Stanley is the epitome of consistency. In each of the three shows, despite his gruff demeanor, Stanley easily won over the hearts of the audience, and his family. I think out of all the characters in our show, people relate to and empathize with Stanley the most, and you get all the credit for that. When Stanley speaks, people listen... because when Eric speaks, people listen. You are more talented than you will ever give yourself credit for. "Pleased to be here." 

And finally, to our faithful audience, I say, THANK YOU. Thank you for being part of the congregation of Mt. Pleasant, for laughing with us, crying with us, and for just being part of the amazing experience that is live theatre. Without you, it's likely some of us would never have met, let alone become such good friends. It was an honor to perform for you and I hope our family will have the fortune of welcoming you back to Mt. Pleasant again soon.

Much love,

Emily/Denise/Densie/D'nie
"I'm the oldest by four minutes."

Send it up

Every actor's worst nightmare, second to being naked on stage (except if dreaming of roles in Hair, The Full Monty or Equus): forgetting lines.

I'm in Barksdale Theatre's production of Smoke on the Mountain Homecoming now running at Hanover Tavern. We opened last Friday.

I forgot my lines on opening night. 

NIGHTMARE!

Mid-monologue (which I had nailed in dress rehearsal), I got a nice laugh after a line. And then, my brain froze. Nothing. Silence. Pins and needles in my throat, all the way down to my stomach. Fumbling. Sweating. Blinding lights. Slow motion. An out-of-body experience. "This isn't happening. Yes, it is. Oh #%$@! Line, line, line, line.... Help! I need help! $#@%!"

An eternity.

(About four seconds.)

I skipped ahead and got back on track, finished the monologue and got some more laughs.

I was devastated. I cried at intermission.

I was certain Bruce (the director) and others would comment on it at the post-show reception. A couple of my castmates said, "don't say anything, no one will even remember" and reassured me it wasn't as bad as I felt it was. So once the celebratory opening night party commenced with the cast, crew, my coworkers, friends, critics and other theatre-goers, I downplayed it pretty well. Kind of. Ok, not really.

I felt like I had to own up to it, because I did forget. I worried that I brought the show down with my four seconds of silence and deer-in-headlights staring. I cringed at the thought of my stammering ending up in a review and casting a bad light on everyone else.

But then another cast member reminded me of three words:

SEND IT UP. 

Let it go. Don't worry about it. It's over, in the past, the rest of the show went (relatively) well so forget it, get over yourself and move on. Hallelujah for those three little words.

Now that I have had two successful recollections of my lines after the catastrophe, read a very positive review of the show (John Porter for WCVE-FM), and confessed this boo-boo to my vast blog readership (ha), I feel much better about it.

Amusingly, in theatre jargon, the phrase that actors use when they forget lines is, "I went up on my lines."

So, I went up. And now, I have sent it up.

And I'm looking forward to a very successful rest-of-the-run.

10/10

Not talking about the Olympics.

My mom was recently going through some of my brothers' and my "junk" at home, and she came across an old writing assignment of mine from Mrs. Paradis' English class in 11th grade. The assignment was to write a short paragraph that conveyed a mood.

Here's what I wrote:

The melancholy tapping of the colorless rain against the windowpanes made the rest of the mansion sigh with mournful recollection of the earlier years that brought with them such life and vibrance. Those things seemed to be only vast memories, swallowed up by the looming tapestries in the hall and the worn rug in the foyer. Time had greedily taken its toll and the swaying pendulum of the grandfather clock added with each movement another second, minute, and hour to remember. The dusty books on the shelf had been audience to many children's laughter but now hear only the echoes of the clouds' tearful goodbyes to their soulmates who had once danced in their puddles and sang songs under their mist. Inevitably, the last generation was gone, and with them many treasured secrets found their long-awaited resting places.

My paragraph got a 10/10 and a "Wow!" Funny how reading that immediately brought me back to the classroom on the second floor of my old high school that is now just a patch of grass next to Cottonwood Lake. I can practically smell the air and feel the heat coming off the radiators.

It has almost become cliché for adults to thank our primary and secondary teachers for the role they played in helping mold who we are today. "When Mrs. Jones taught me how to fold a paper airplane in first grade, that's when I knew I would one day become a pilot." 

But really, who's to say there wasn't some truth in that? A seed of curiosity could have been planted in that first grade classroom, which would one day germinate, grow and bloom. 

I had a lot of great teachers growing up, and Mrs. Anne Paradis was one of them. There was no "easy A" in her classes. But working hard translated into real learning. Thinking back, I am sure her classes were the foundation for my writing aptitude today. I now earn my living by writing compellingly. 

Mrs. Paradis also directed all-school plays. The spark that was ignited during my role as Donna Lucia d'Alvadorez in Charley's Aunt was reignited eleven years later when I got my first professional acting gig for Barksdale Theatre as Denise in Smoke
on the Mountain.

So, thank you, Mrs. Paradis. Cliché or not, you played no small role in the life and livlihood of this grateful student. 

I give YOU a 10/10!

How many snowflakes does it take to build a snowman?

As a Minnesota-native, I'll not-so-reluctantly admit that I love all the recent snow. It reminds me of home. But the difference between Minneapolis and Richmond is that there, residents are ready for and equipped to handle large amounts of snow. Richmonders are not. 

It's no one's fault. If I had grown up in a temperate climate, I'd be terrified to drive in snow and ice. If I worked for the City of Richmond, I probably wouldn't think investing thousands of dollars in snow removal preparations "just in case" would be a wise use of taxpayer funds. But regardless, here we are, stuck in the aftermath of "Snowmageddon" (gag) with more white stuff in the forecast.

While the snow is pretty and the kiddos are loving the string of days off from school, nonprofit arts organizations' opinions of dear Mother Nature aren't quite as rosy. Show cancellations mean dollars lost. It's that simple. And when several shows are budgeted to simply break even... well... I'm not very good at math but even I can figure that out.

Even before the snow hit, the arts were in a precarious spot. Barksdale and Theatre IV are in the same boat (or sled, as it were) as many of our fellow arts organizations. No one wants to see the arts go away. But that said, it means we all need to do our part. 

Several theatre advocates in the community have been buzzing about the concept of "virtual tickets" -- meaning, sending a donation to a theatre for the same amount as a ticket to a show you might have attended, but was canceled due to snow. For example, a ticket to The Song of Mulan is $22, so my donation to Theatre IV would be $22. (All four of the scheduled performances of Mulan this weekend were canceled.)

I think this is a great idea. Every little bit helps. And if everyone helps a little....... we can build a happy little snowman.

(Snowman courtesy of my 11-year-old neighbor, Dameon .)