Shadow post

Sometimes when the thing I would normally write about is too private to write about, I write a shadow post instead. Suffice it to say it was a banner day, with big laughter over drinks, the most precious text messages I've ever received, and great hair.

The private stuff will become public in due time. Life is good.

Spring kale, overwintered

Up before 7. Out before tea. Blueberries. St. Johnswort. Basil. Caraway thyme. Two new garden beds. Shorts and a hat. A neighbor out early loading a strange, homemade pig bench into the back of his truck. A trip across the street to my sharecropper garden. Four stocky kale plants with delicate spring leaves. Later, dinner.

Paradise Found

Was it walking an hour through the park and my old neighborhood to get to the theater, and running into Naomi and Jill and Hannah and Eva, and then Glenn and Hana along the way?

Was it getting to be inside a church I've seen from the outside for 10 years, and discovering that it's gorgeous, capacious, light, and VERY multi-purpose?

Was it the sight of Michael Barakiva in his red apron, as he was about to serve up 10 hours of theater, along with two gourmet meals?

Was it the moment the Upstart Creatures started to perform all 12 books of Paradise Lost?

Was it sneaking out to read the synopsis in the middle of the first act (the first three books) because I was super lost, but coming back in feeling quite found, and suddenly following the story much much better?

Was it the first meal break, which was high tea? Noticing the meta-experience of (having pre-decided to eat and drink anything I wanted to, without worrying about if it contained caffeine, wheat, or sugar —three things I normally avoid) drinking a delicious blend of Harney's (caffeinated) Diamond Jubilee tea, and eating scrumptious tea sandwiches and little cakes, including an apple cake—my forbidden fruits—IN THE GARDEN during the 10-hour reading of Paradise Lost? ***DING DING DING! This one wins.***

Was it the growing understanding that in Milton's hands, Adam and Eve in the garden are metaphors for the oblivious middle class, who don't know how come they have it so good?

Was it the shifting light coming through the stained glass windows over the course of 10 hours?

Was it the moment I walked into the space that had previously hosted high tea, now transformed into a banquet hall with apples and votives at every place setting?

Or maybe the moment, at midnight, that the actors read the final words of the poem.

They hand in hand with wandring steps and slow,
Through Eden took thir solitarie way.

And we clapped, and Michael wept a little, and we went out into the night to walk home. Paradise found.

No Time At All -- singing along with Pippin (Part 1)

The producers of cast album of the new Broadway revival of Pippin have put out a call for fans of the show to sing along with Andrea Martin on the cast album. This is the kind of thing that I would normally see, think, "That sounds fun," and then never do. But in this year of saying YES to things that I think will bring me joy, I clicked on the SIGN ME UP link, and immediately started to worry that I was already too late to get chosen. A day passed. Another. But then it came. The email I'd been hoping for.

Hello Jenny Levison!

Start practicing! You have been chosen to attend the very special recording session of 'No Time At All' with Andrea Martin and Stephen Schwartz and sing on the New Broadway Cast Recording of PIPPIN!

And so yes, I started practicing. In my bedroom, in the shower, in the garden, over breakfast. It's been completely fun. It reminds me of, well, it reminds me of myself when I was a kid. I used to spend hours on the living room floor, in front of the record player, singing along to my favorite musicals, imagining the sets, the action, the choreography—all from the photos on the covers of the record albums.  I might be older, I might have seen a musical or two, but it still feels the same to listen to a recording, and imagine myself in it.

[BERTHE]
When you are as old as I, my dear
And I hope that you never are
You will woefully wonder why, my dear
Through your cataracts and catarrh
You could squander away or sequester
A drop of a precious year
For when your best days are yester
The rest'er twice as dear....

What good is a field on a fine summer night
When you sit all alone with the weeds?
Or a succulent pear if with each juicy bite
You spit out your teeth with the seeds?
Before it's too late stop trying to wait
For fortune and fame you're secure of
For there's one thing to be sure of, mate:
There's nothing to be sure of!

Oh, it's time to start livin'
Time to take a little from this world we're given
Time to take time, cause spring will turn to fall
In just no time at all....

I've never wondered if I was afraid
When there was a challenge to take
I never thought about how much I weighed
When there was still one piece of cake
Maybe it's meant the hours I've spent
Feeling broken and bent and unwell
But there's still no cure more heaven-sent
As the chance to raise some hell

Everybody....

[ALL]
Oh, it's time to start livin'
Time to take a little from this world we're given
Time to take time, cause spring will turn to fall
In just no time at all....

Now when the drearies do attack
And a siege of the sads begins
I just throw these noble shoulders back
And lift these noble chins
Give me a man who is handsome and strong
Someone who's stalwart and steady
Give me a night that's romantic and long
And give me a month to get ready
Now I could waylay some aging roue
And persuade him to play in some cranny
But it's hard to believe I'm being led astray
By a man who calls me granny

[ALL]
Oh, it's time to start livin'
Time to take a little from this world we're given
Time to take time, cause spring will turn to fall
In just no time at all....

Oh, it's time to start livin'
Time to take a little from this world we're given
Time to take time, cause spring will turn to fall
In just no time at all....

Sages tweet that age is sweet
Good deeds and good work earns you laurels
But what could make you feel more obsolete
Than being noted for your morals?

Here is a secret I never have told
Maybe you'll understand why
I believe if I refuse to grow old
I can stay young till I die
Now, I've known the fears of sixty-six years
I've had troubles and tears by the score
But the only thing I'd trade them for
Is sixty-seven more....

Oh, it's time to keep livin'
Time to keep takin' from this world we're given
You are my time, so I'll throw off my shawl
And watching your flings be flung all over
Makes me feel young all over

[BETHE AND BOYS]
In just no time at all....

(And also, in case you were wondering, the meta message of the song is not lost on me and my 'take life by the balls' approach to this year.)

PUFFINS!

A couple weeks ago I downloaded an ap called iBird Lite. I'm testing it out to see if I like it enough to spend $19.99 on iBird Pro. I LOVE IT. I sit on the subway and read about birds. Their range, their habitat, birds that are similar to them. I look at drawings and photos of them, and I listen to their calls. This has all been pretty great for me, until I came upon the Atlantic Puffin, at which point it became thrilling. I have been trying to see a puffin for, well, as long as I can remember. Admittedly, I haven't tried super hard. I've gone out on boats though, to places where puffins "always" hang out, only to find that "this is the only time we have come out and not seen puffins." Also, did I mention I get seasick? I have promised myself that this summer I will go out to one of the puffin breeding colonies in Maine, but in the meantime, iBird, take me away!

I called in well

I took a personal day. I needed one. (I actually need about 7 more, and then I could get everything done I need to in the next 8 days.) I did a whole slew of things I could write about in detail, but the truth is, it was the moment of deciding that I needed the day, and that I could just tell the truth about it. That moment, at 8:30 in the morning, when instead of bracing myself for a day on the Upper West Side yearning to be ticking items off my list in Brooklyn, I shifted gears and went for what I wanted. It's not like I hadn't earned the day; last week I worked til 10 or 11 PM four nights. But still, knowing I have earned it and figuring out I can take it are two separate things. And when I figured that out, JOY.

Also, I planted collards and ranunculus. I started a freelance copy edit job. I worked on a freelance theater producing job. I winnowed files. I bought a mattress. I briefly stopped in on the May Day march in lower Manhattan. And at the end of the day, I got to see a Broadway show (Kinky Boots) in fantastic house seats that the musical director got me, and meet him backstage afterwards, where I got to see the stunning Al Hirschfeld theater from the front out.

I took a personal day. 

Brooklyn Botanic Garden Members Plant Sale

For a few hours I feel like myself. A giant field and an even more giant tent filled with shade perennials, vine fruits, stalk fruits, annuals, vegetable starts. People carefully considering blueberry bushes, and filling their red wagons with native grasses. I took my time and found just what I wanted. I soaked in the gorgeous evening. I talked with volunteers and other members about what they are planting. I considered blueberries myself. When I was done, I pulled my own red wagon out to the road, and thought about last year's plant sale, when I walked home with Alexis, talking about our hopes and plans for our gardens. And with that, the joy became bittersweet.