Two Nights in Rodanthe

"Our" house

Robbie and I had the fortune and pleasure of spending last weekend at a lovely beach house in Rodanthe, NC. The house belongs to my coworker Tracy's family and she was gracious enough to invite us rowdy theatre-types to experience the magic of the Outer Banks.

And it was magical.

The drive down was about as pleasant as any 4-hour car ride can be. Tracy, Lucas, Stacie, BC, Robb & I rode together in Tracy's minivan. The road to the house had been closed intermittently throughout the day, due to washout from waves remnant of a Noreaster. Lucas was driving (in the dark) when we got to the beach road. The first sign said, "Water on Road. Proceed with Caution." About a half mile ahead of that was another sign: "WATER ON ROAD. PROCEED WITH EXTREME CAUTION." (I guess they really meant it that time.)

It was quite an adventure plunging through several inches of water, in the dark, with fog, particularly when faced with oncoming traffic and water covering the entire road. But Lucas demonstrated his expert driving skills, which he no doubt acquired from his years touring the country with Theatre IV. We all arrived safe and sound and thus began our weekend.

View from the house

The weather was cooperative, the beach was beautiful, the house was spacious and comfortable. We all took turns preparing meals and each one was delicious. Robbie made gumbo on Saturday night that was one of the most delicious dinners I've ever put in my mouth. We played cards and Catch Phrase and were also able to enjoy moments of solitude to read, sit in the hot tub, or just relax and enjoy the salty air and the sound of the waves.

But the most magical thing that happened during the trip: we all got along.

L to R: Lucas, BC, Stacie, me, Robb, Jonah, Carlos, Sara, Tracy

No arguing, no bickering, no pouting, no sulking, no fuming, no yelling (except for strategic moments during Catch Phrase) -- it was truly magical. I don't know if it was because we all were so in need of a get-away that we were experiencing some sort of collective euphoria, or perhaps there is just something about the ocean that sweeps in the good energy and washes away the bad. Whatever the reason, we laughed and ate and drank and enjoyed every single minute in Rodanthe.

I will truly remember that weekend for a long, long time to come.

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."

Deadly drink

I have to start by saying I feel like kind of a hypocrite writing this post. I drank in college. I continue to enjoy wine and beer and the occasional mixed drink, and sometimes I get a little carried away and pay for it the next morning.

But this morning I'm writing about a young man who didn't have the luxury of paying for it the next morning. Because he died.

Just before I left the office yesterday, I learned that my coworker's nephew had been found dead of alcohol poisoning. He was in college, pledging a fraternity.

So many words come to mind.... horrible, tragic, heartbreaking............... preventable.

So often we hear news reports of situations just like this, where college frat parties quickly turn into alcohol binge fests where the goal is to out-do one another to see who can down the most booze in the shortest amount of time. Drinking games like the "power hour," "century club" and others often can -- and do -- result in DEATH.

"Alcohol poisoning occurs when a person consumes an excessive amount of alcohol. Alcohol can depress or stop nerve signals that control breathing and the gag reflex that prevents choking. As drinking increases, the person will become sleepy, or fall into a stupor. Ultimately, the respiratory system becomes depressed, and the person can stop breathing, causing death. Commonly, comatose patients aspirate their vomit, resulting in vomitus in the lungs, which can cause asphyxiation and death." (WebMD & Wikipedia)

The story told to my coworker's sister-in-law by one of her son's roommates is that his soon-to-be fraternity brothers set a case of beer in front of him and said, "drink." And he did. And he died.

The really sad and angering part is, there is nothing that can be done to change this. Even with all the preaching and lecturing and fact-presenting and awareness campaigning and M.A.D.D. and S.A.D.D. demonstrating, fraternities and sororities will continue with their drinking rituals, college students will continue to drink to excess, and young men and women will continue to die.

Scary.

Scary that alcohol can have such power. And even scarier that we let it.

My heart breaks for this family. There is now a mother without her son, a sister without her brother, an uncle without his nephew. And now, the "if only's" and "should have's" will begin. Because that is human nature. We punish ourselves in situations like this because our feelings of helplessness and guilt force us to. But nothing can bring him back, and that fact alone is punishment enough.

There is no happy ending, no silver lining. This kid is dead. A senseless waste of a precious human life.

That is all there is to say.

10-10

Today is Sunday, October 10th.

We had a 2:00 p.m. matinee of Smoke on the Mountain Homecoming at Hanover Tavern this afternoon, where there also were not one, but two wedding receptions happening. The weather in Richmond, VA today is uncharacteristically warm for fall. The maple leaves are starting to turn orange and gold. There is not a cloud in the sky. It's a perfect day for a beautiful wedding.

Of course, those who know me probably know where I'm going with this. I had a beautiful wedding on an uncharacter-
istically warm fall day in St. Paul, MN on Sunday, October 10th, six years ago. The leaves were at their glorious peak and the cloudless sky was an expanse of bright blue.

It was fun to catch a glimpse of the bridal parties today, donning ear-to-ear grins, the perfect accessory to their formalwear. So much happiness and expectation.

I couldn't help but feel a little pang of sadness.

Because no one gets married thinking they'll get a divorce. I was just like the brides I saw today: happy, excited and full of hope. How it should be.

It's just a shame that sometimes, the hope fades and is replaced with something else. I had no idea on that day six years ago that the years to follow would be far less than ideal. My expectations were dashed quite soon after, and the brilliant blue sky of my wedding day became dark and stormy with no sign of clearing.

Even though getting a divorce was the right, smart, and healthy choice, it still weighed heavily on me. The feeling of failure was overwhelming. I was ashamed to tell my family and friends. I felt guilty about the wedding they had all attended, apparently for nothing.

But someone reminded me that at the time, on that day six years ago, it was a happy occasion. A beautiful day where family and friends could come together, visit, eat good food and celebrate the future with each other. Every good intention was brought forward on that day, and everyone left with a happy heart.

Jamie and I rode from the church to our reception in a white Rolls Royce. Today, on my way home after the show, a white Rolls Royce drove by. Coincidence? Or was it God's little wink to tell me he knows what's on my heart?

No good can come out of regret. If those who end up getting divorced knew on their wedding day that would be the outcome, no one would ever get married. There are all kinds of cliches about life's lessons: "life is a journey," "life is meant to be lived," "in life, you take the good with the bad," etc. However, they are all true. All our experiences -- successes, failures and everything in between -- make us who we are.

I firmly believe that the future is bright -- not just for the newlyweds I saw today, but for all of us. It boils down to a matter of perspective and attitude. Life is too short and too precious to believe otherwise!

Analog vs. digital

Ever since the technology world flipped the digital switch, the debate of analog versus digital has been circling 'round and 'round, with no sign of stopping anytime soon.

I had a discussion with Robb recently about film photography versus digital photography and a similar discussion on the topic of artistic talent, whether innate or manufactured.

B&W film photo. Grain Belt © 2000 www.emilyjcole.com

It used to be that to take good photos, one had to have a keen eye for value, color and composition. Photos shot on film involved either processing them oneself in a darkroom, or rolling the dice with a commercial developer. Either way, it was easy to tell a good photograph from the not-so-good ones.

Now, with digital technology, virtually anyone can be a talented photographer. Photo editing programs like Photoshop, Lightroom and even freebies like Google's Picasa mean that tasks like cropping, straightening, adjusting brightness/contrast/saturation, etc. can be achieved with a mouse-click and can make any old photo look like a masterful composition. All that is required of the eye is to see.

This is not necessarily a bad thing! It opens up a world of creativity to people who may never have dipped their toe in the creative waters otherwise. It does raise the bar, however, for anyone wanting to pursue a career in photography. Talented photogs either need to step it up a notch and produce great photographs, or get lost in the shuffle with the myriad of good ones. 

I used to think of myself as a decent photographer and briefly considered delving into it as a sideline profession. But not anymore. The sheer cost of keeping up with the latest and greatest technology that is required to produce great vs. good photos has, I dare say, permanently relegated me to that of a hobbyist. 

Digital sketch. Lil Wayne © 2010 SEILER

 

The same analog vs. digital conundrum holds true for painting and drawing too. I follow an über-talented art blogger named Seiler who is a successful caricaturist and artist in Chicago. He does everything digitally and can turn around a painting in a couple days and a drawing in even less time. 

Graphite drawing. Muhammad Ali © 2001 www.emilyjcole.com

When I think of the amount of time I spend drawing a portrait, I get irritated at the notion that someone else can do the same thing, minus the eraser crumbs and frustration, in half the time using a stylus and tablet with their Mac. It feels like cheating to me. And a little bit elitist. Forget about trying to compete with techno-savvy artists who can turn around multiple pieces in the time it takes to complete one portrait the old-school way. [Maybe I'm just jealous that he can afford the technology and I can't...!?]

I'm sounding like a crotchety old woman here! Perhaps the issue is less about the technology and more about finding one's niche in the market. There has been a resurgence of interest in vinyl records, tube amps, knitting, and pretty much anything "vintage" or hand-made. I suppose the same could hold true for art.

Until I win the lottery and buy all the fancy equip-

ment my heart desires, I will satisfy myself with that conclusion. At least I can rest assured that stained glass will never become digital!  

Or will it...?

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.

A crime of crab legs

Only a couple times in my life have I been a victim of theft. The first time was over ten years ago when my car was stolen from in front of my friend's apartment building in a quiet, residential neighborhood in St. Paul, MN.

The second time was on Tuesday of this week, my 5th Anniversary working at Theatre IV.

♪ Happy Anniversary to me! ♫

Theatre IV hired our usual contractor to install new windows in our administrative offices. The contractor had done other jobs for Theatre IV and was friendly, efficient and did good work. Long story short, one of the contractor's employees had a window of opportunity (forgive the pun) to steal my Wachovia check card out of my messenger bag in my office while I was working in an office down the hall as my new window was being installed. After he left for the day, he went on a mini-spending spree with my card, first stopping at a BP station for gas and other items and then on to Kroger, where he attempted to buy over $200 worth of crab legs.

Not a cart-full of groceries to feed his wife and children.

CRAB LEGS.

This is what was revealed by the surveillance video at Kroger.

I have spent several hours over the last few days talking to the police and Wachovia in order to provide as much information as possible about the theft. An investigator has now been assigned to the case and as of this morning, was in the process of obtaining an arrest warrant. I imagine in the coming weeks there will be affidavits and court appearances involved.

Everyone has been asking how I'm doing -- I'm just fine. But I can't help but think about the guy who stole my card, and more importantly, his family. I feel bad for his wife and kids. It would have been one thing if he had, out of desperation, tried to buy groceries or clothes or some other necessities for his family. But a case of crab legs? That doesn't elicit much sympathy from me. What on earth was he thinking?! Clearly, he wasn't thinking. He will likely go to jail for a time, leaving his family to fend for themselves.

According to the contractor, this guy is (was) an upstanding member of society, "a good Christian man with a lovely wife and seven kids." But as we all know, even the preacher is capable of stealing coins from the offering plate.

Or in this instance, crab legs.