Meanwhile...

 Let's see....I hadn't written in this since Feb. 2021. I didn't even mention the huge winter storm we had, right after my mom had passed. If you live in Texas, you know.

We were lucky, in that we were only without electricity for about 22 hours but didn't have water for about four days. We existed on homemade cinnamon rolls and other snacks during that time. No, we hadn't properly prepared for this, but overall it wasn't that bad. Considering the fate of many others in the Austin area, I consider us fortunate. We burned a lot of firewood during the time our electricity was out and used water from our hot tub and a neighbor's pool to keep the "plumbing" going. By the Friday following the storm, we were able to get out a bit. We had the most delicious Popeye's chicken finger family buffet ever.

I still am not completely done with all the doings post my mom's passing but am closer. Without going into too many details, most paperwork is done. But that was an odd time, and I still haven't felt like I've properly grieved. One day. Or one year.

In other news, I took on some extra job duties at the ol' IRS for awhile, leading to way too much stress. That, coupled with the passing of a kidney stone, landed me in the hospital in early August, 2022, with high blood pressure. First hospital stay since a tonsillectomy at age six. I'm on high blood pressure meds now, but it looks like that's subsiding. Which leads me to...

I retired from the IRS at the end of 2022. I better post this before I let it sit for days.....again. More to come.

Time to Dust This Off

 I have retired from my day job, as of December 31st. So it's time to write again. Once the shock of not having to get up in the mornings has worn off, I'll get on it. Really.

Mom

My mom passed away last night. She had taken a huge downturn right about Thanksgiving - going from her spunky, independently-living self (at 91!) to being very "confused" (which almost seems to be a current medical term) and not being very aware or able to communicate well.

She was residing in San Angelo, where she'd lived since 1985, and I saw her several times a year...until recently, of course. Covid had locked down her apartment building for quite awhile. And then, once things opened up a bit toward the fall, she adamantly did not want me risking coming over there. That's just how she was, but I still talked to her several times a week. She had been losing weight steadily for awhile, I knew that, but she still had her faculties and while slowing down some, I didn't think much about her condition.

Come the week of Thanksgiving, things changed. I talked to her on Monday, and something sounded a little strange but not enough to where I thought too much about it. She did mention during the conversation that she was having phone problems and that there had been another outage of the phone lines where she lived. (That had just happened a couple of months before, and someone at the high rise called me to tell me that fact.) Tuesday, I had been really busy at work and didn't get a chance to call (calling her after work hours was not the best time), so Wednesday I tried to call her several times with no luck. Again, I thought about what she'd said about the phone lines, but at the same time I was a little concerned. Thursday was Thanksgiving, and I tried to call a few times again with no luck. Again, I'm thinking "aah, the phone lines are down. Damn." I tried to call the high rise office with no luck. Friday morning, I'm just about to start calling again when her friend Janie (who does not live at the high rise) called me to say I needed to come over there quickly, as something was wrong. She had gone to take something to my mother and had found her fairly unresponsive. Janie called the Home Health nurse, and she had gone over there and called me immediately after Janie did. They were calling an ambulance to take her to the hospital. She was again, really unresponsive.

So I packed quickly and headed to San Angelo. I got there in the afternoon and got to the hospital by the early evening. When I saw her, I was shocked at how she looked. The nurse told me she had a Urinary Tract Infection, and that this often had a devastating effect on the elderly, causing all kinds of confusion and whatnot. And several people told me that. The woman who manages the high rise, the doctor, another nurse, etc. I couldn't believe my mother was so out of it. She barely knew who I was, although I'm sure wearing a Covid mask didn't help. My visit seemed to agitate her, though, and she kept trying to get out of the hospital bed. So I stayed as long as I thought I could and left.

I stayed the night, then tried to contact her financial advisor the next morning and let her know what was up. I went for another couple of visits at the hospital. The first one, and I'll never forget this, she looked at me after I'd said hello and made small talk of some sort and said "you look just like my son." For someone who was the child of a woman who was always in control and in charge of her destiny, etc., this was pretty devastating. Again, my visits seemed to agitate and make her think we were leaving, so I kept them sort of short. I went by her apartment (and the power was out in the whole building when I got there), got the mail and then headed home. Everybody kept telling me "she might pop right out of this," but I didn't really believe it. Even though, if there was someone who would pop out of it, it would be her. So I didn't do anything about her apartment this trip. Sometime in early 2020 or so, I had gotten myself signed onto her Wells Fargo banking (of which I'm a co-owner), and so I would be able to pay her bills, etc. Very happy to have been astute enough to get that set up in my last visit there while she was lucid.

And of course, she never really "popped back" at all. After a couple of weeks in the hospital, she was moved to skilled nursing, a rehab area in the Baptist Retirement complex. Two weeks after my last trip, I headed back down there, this time armed with several empty plastic tubs, with a thought toward beginning packing her apartment up. Saturday morning, I met with a rep for Sagecrest, which is where the Alzheimer's patients live (they also run the skilled nursing). I took my first (and still only at the time of writing this) Covid test. I had to have that to visit Mom in the skilled nursing building. I paid a couple of visits there, and she seemed somewhat aware of who I was. The second visit (Sunday morning) was filled with "I love you"s and some hand holding. That was nice. But I still, for whatever reason, could not pack her stuff. So I headed back home again.

As December began to fade, I realized some real steps had to be taken, and while I was trying to decide how to handle this, my bandmate Brant, from the Pocket FishRmen called me and said "let's get in my truck, drive down there, and get that stuff moved." I readily accepted, and so the Sunday before New Year's, he and I headed down there to see what we could get done. Brant's a go-getter, and we had all of the furniture out of there and over to Janie's in a few hours. We successfully moved her electric chair over there, which was the thing I was worried about the most if I would have had to do this myself. The rest would have to wait, though. I didn't even begin to get into her closet area or really anything else. 

On the following Tuesday, I headed back to San Angelo, deciding to stay Tuesday night and take my time packing the rest. So late Tuesday afternoon, I pulled up to the high rise and was about to take the plastic tubs into the building when Janie called. Turned out she and Edward had been over there on Monday and cleaned the place out! I don't know if I've ever been more grateful for favors. I had packed up several tubs when I was there with Brant but had not taken any with us (other than one with important papers). I had most stuff that I considered important, but I suspect I might want to take a look at those tubs in the future when I go back.

Wednesday morning I met with the Sagecrest caseworker to turn in a Medicaid application, if we needed that help when the time came. I had not had a Covid test this time (and I could only get one from them), so a visit to Mom couldn't happen this time. And once again, I headed home.

That was my last time in San Angelo (as of now). I had planned on going back to visit Mom, but Covid restrictions were tougher than ever, especially at the nursing facility. I did talk to her on the phone once, at a nurse's suggestion. I was kind of shocked she suggested it; I didn't know Mom was even capable of holding a phone. That was Monday, January 18th. It was a pleasant enough call, and Mom seemed to know who I was. She wasn't very lucid, so it was a very one-sided conversation. But I said what needed to be said. That was the last time we spoke. I had planned to go back for a visit but did not make it in time.

I would call whatever nursing facility she was in from time to time to see about her. The nurses never said anything different. It was always "she's here. Not eating much. Sleeps a lot." And her weight was dropping. I knew it couldn't be long.

Last night, at about 7:55, a nurse called me and said Mom was having some breathing difficulty and wanted permission to administer a breathing treatment and possibly morphine if it came to that. I said "yes." She said it's time to come see her if you can. I said I'm near Austin, and we're in the throes of a rare winter storm. She told me that in her experience, it could be minutes, hours, or even longer if her breathing got under control. I thanked her. She called me ten minutes later; Mom had just passed.

Theatre Days (1983-1984)

Okay, time to wrap up this "Theatre Days" stuff. I've been away from the blog for a bit....I'll try to get back in the saddle here. Uuuupp.....okay, here we go.

The theatre year began with early (January) performances of "The Miracle Worker," and I served as stage manager for those - first and only time I did that. Any of you involved in theatre know that stage manager is the most important crew position; you're the Boss. And responsible for any and every thing. Scary, but totally involving. The funny thing is that other than being pretty wowed by the cast of this one, I don't remember much. The shows must have come off okay. Whew.

The spring of 1983 was a little different for me. The biggest reason was that I got a job at a radio station as an announcer. I forget the specifics of why I went this route, but it must have been because......I needed money!! And so, my theatre availability could have been roughly the same but working weekends during the day was a killer. Saturdays I went into the station at 9 am, and Sundays I went in at (gasp) 4:45 am. Oftentimes, I went in with no sleep. But all that's another story.

Therefore, I laid out of productions in the spring of 1983. "Threepenny Opera" (which I am a fan of) and a show called "Talley's Folly" (?) were produced, but I stayed out of them. I probably acted in a few directing projects (memories are fuzzy), but I kept out of the evening ones. Around this time, I was working in the Department as part of the work-study program, in order to help make rent, etc. So a lot of this semester was a theatre wash for me.

But, in the summer, it was time for PASS once again. And nothing kept me away from that. Now that I think about it, I wonder if I took a couple of those weekends off of work; I might have for PASS. Anyway, the first show up was called "Luv," a ridiculous comedy written by Murray Schisgal in the 60s. It was directed by Jack Strawn, and being the first show of PASS, was rehearsed in late May while school was out - a la "Star Spangled Girl" the year before. The show only had three characters, Harry, who I played, Milt, and Ellen. Harry begins the play suicidal but runs into Milt right before jumping from a bridge. Harry's loneliness gives Milt the idea to pawn his wife Ellen off on Harry (Milt has an affair going on), saving everyone in the process. And it goes from there. I played this one up like almost nothing else, and one memory really stands out. For a dress rehearsal, some students were present. And one of the snootier ones told me after the run-through "I don't think you're really getting to the emotional depth of the character." I took that as a fantastic compliment. This show was far from serious. Rafael Torres played Milt, and my girlfriend at the time, Rise Atkins, played Ellen. And having Jack direct in his usual "hey, Lance, run with it!" way just led to supreme fun.

On to the second show of PASS, and we get "Born Yesterday." Now, this one might seem more familiar, due to the movie remake from the 90s with Melanie Griffith, but I'd never even seen the original film version from 1950. And this was one where I had a lot of trouble. Jim Hawley directed it, and his focus on technical issues meant I didn't have a lot of guidance in the role, which was, well, the handsome romantic male co-lead. Something I wasn't even used to attempting to play. And I still feel like I dropped the ball on this one. Or maybe it's just that I wasn't made to play this kind of role. Nevertheless, I had fun doing it. Kimberly Lewis played the lead, with Chuck Pokorny playing her gruff, uncouth husband. Fun show, I just think I was miscast. So there.

The final two shows of PASS that year I was not in, and other than working on the sound tapes, I'm not sure I had any crew responsibilities.

Later that summer, I had the opportunity to direct something for the Tower Theater in Weslaco. The Tower Theater was a comfortable theater housed inside an old water tower, basically a large cylinder. The Tower's manager was my girlfriend's mother, and so I managed to grab a director position, putting on Neil Simon's "Barefoot in the Park." Rise played Corrie, I played Paul, and most of the rest of the cast were pulled from the Pan Am theatre folks. For my first (and only, as it turned out) somewhat major production, it turned out okay. My mom even made a trip from the Dallas area to see it. Got my picture on the front page of the newspaper as well. Not bad.

Moving to the fall, we began with the old chestnut "You Can't Take It With You." This one was directed by Doug Cummins, and I had the role of Mr. DePinna, who is kind of a cypher in the script. (I had not seen the movie version at this point.) One type of role I thought I was pretty good at playing is the clueless go-along-with-it guy, and this part was certainly that. Mr. DePinna, like a lot of people in this wacky household, just showed up one day and stayed. In this case, he helps the father of the house build fireworks in the basement. And he smokes a pipe all the time, which was new for me. I taped flints to the bottoms of my shoes, so I'd have something to light matches on if the pipe went out. There's one scene where DePinna emerges on stage in a toga, carrying an artist's easel and paints - I forget some of the context. But it's a bit of a surprise, I suppose. One performance, when I strutted onstage with the toga and equipment, the crowd stopped the show dead with applause and laughter. Self-serving, I know, but memories like this are the ones that stick. I've never forgotten it.

On to the final show of 1983, and Dr. Monta was directing "An Evening of Albee," comprising "Zoo Story" and "The American Dream," two one-act plays that are often performed together. I played Grandma in "The American Dream." I did. Old lady wig, dress, everything. I remember one of the first things Dr. Monta had to teach me was how to not sit in that dress with my legs open. I'm sure she had a funny biting quip about it, but I don't remember a specific one. For every one of these shows, I'm trying to think of one memory that stands out, and unfortunately, the one for this isn't a great one. At some point, there were three of us onstage, Veronica Gilchrist as Mommy, Valente Rodriguez as Daddy, and me. Ronnie Gilchrist was a lovely woman to work with, but she had problems remembering lines. And she went completely "up" at this moment. And, I couldn't remember what came next, in an effort to cover her. I could tell Valente didn't, either. We stayed silent onstage for what felt like a minute, although it was probably only 10 or 15 seconds. I don't really remember how we got out of it, but we somehow did. You'd think after all the shows I did at Pan Am in those days, there might have been more of these, but I can't think of any others.

1983's nomination for the Irene Ryan scholastic award I mentioned in the 1982 post went to yours truly for this performance. The sad thing is: I didn't go to the competition. And I can't remember why, other than I might've just been burned out, or needed money, or something. I really do not remember. There's even a small part of my brain saying "you did go!" but I don't think that's accurate.

I put 1983 and 1984 together, as by the spring of 1984, I was ready to do something else, and I largely stayed out of the theatre world. The second spring show of 1984 was "Annie Get Your Gun," directed by Dr. Monta, and I got the role of Pawnee Bill, Buffalo Bill's rival. It was fun, but believe it or not, I sort of took the role under duress. Jeez, that sounds snotty as hell. But I did get to sing "There's No Business Like Show Business" on a stage, so I'll always have that.

But ultimately, I just was not into it. I could feel Dr. Monta's disappointment in my overall direction, but I couldn't help it. It was going to be a different path for me in life after all.

So, I graduated in May, 1984. I stayed in the Valley a year, working radio and saving some money. Then it was off to California in February, 1985, to reconnect with my dad and start a new life.\

These theatre days were the spark to what I ended up doing in music and life in general. As cheesy as it sounds, I own them a lot of my life.

Theatre Days (1982)

Moving on to 1982. The theatre year (for me) began with William Shakespeare's "Twelfth Night," directed by Doug Cummins. I won the part of Sir Andrew Aguecheek, who is pretty much a fool's fool. One of those "inappropriate suitors" who populate Shakespeare's comedies in pretty spectacular numbers. So this one happened around the time we were getting secretive cocaine deliveries to the back of the theatre when rehearsing. Talk about adding extra pressure to yourself. Truthfully though, I rarely imbibed when I had to get on stage and orate, or even gyrate. Most of the time, that was for afterward. Pretty sure no one knew about any of this behavior beside those of us who were in on the purchase. I think the powers that be only thought we were drunks. It was 1982, man.

I had a pink outfit for this one, pink and white, actually. Yep, that added to the manliness of this performance. In this case, you spell "dandy," all uppercase - "DANDY." I was part of the "prose posse" in this play; the nobility and more serious characters spoke in verse, the bawdy low-lifes and such spoke in prose. I was a pink, bawdy low-life, although a "sir."

(I should mention in here that sometime in 1981 - I believe - I began volunteering for people's directing projects. A lot of those I've completely forgotten, but I'll try to pepper these posts with them when I remember. I'm thinking of this now, as I believe I did some project for Bernadette Murray around this time. That one I sort of remember. But that's all I remember about it.)

The next show up was the Peter Shaffer play "Equus," to be directed by Dr. Monta. This one was predicted to be a biggie. The "intelligentsia" among us were pretty sure I was going to be cast as the boy, Alan Strang, if I wanted it. I did. I'd seen the movie once but had never seen the stage production (and still haven't), and they are two completely different animals (pun intended). The story of a psychiatrist on a downslide in life, remarking on the passion of this crazy boy who blinded a bunch of horses in a stable one night, is illustrated on the stage as some sort of modernized Greek play. The players are always on stage and seated to the side of the main stage area when not a part of the action. And all the horses are played by men wearing wire horse's heads and hoof-shoes. For this production, we had a turntable built at the center of the action. At key moments, actors would unlock the turntable and spin it around while lights flashed and crazed sound effects (compiled by yours truly) went off.

I got the part, as predicted by everybody except me. The rest of the cast had some interesting notables. Dan Donahue, who I had never acted with but had seen perform a couple of times, got the lead part of Martin Dysart, the psychiatrist. Doug Cummins had campaigned really obviously for months, trying to get Dr. Monta to cast him as Dysart (it did need an older actor, for sure), but she went with Dan and cast Doug as my father. Dawn Novak, who was one of the shyer people I'd ever met got the part of the mother and rocked it. She used that shyness to fantastic effect. As Jill Mason, the "love interest," but more accurately, the camel that breaks the stable cleaner's back, was Maureen Clifford. I could probably write a whole other post on Maureen, but not now. She was, simply, for me, the big crush. I'd been head over heels for her since I first saw her in late 1980 in a French class. She was a Music major, a great pianist, and we crossed paths a lot until I started getting up the nerve to ask her to do things. But most of the time, when I was around her, I turned to some sort of jelly, and I'm pretty sure Dr. Monta knew this. I've forgotten why she auditioned (maybe I hinted at it); she hadn't done any acting, other than a chorus part in "The Mikado" in 1981. In retrospect, though, it was perfect casting.

Rehearsals were smooth, as I recall. I don't even remember Dr. Monta giving me many notes, and I was just going for it. By then, I had twenty years of crazy built up, and I was letting it loose every night. Especially during the climactic horse-blinding scene. One night, during a dress rehearsal, maybe even the last one, one of the horsemen, played by Nathan Murray (brother of the aforementioned Bernadette) kneed me in the crotch during this scene. And I'm pretty sure he did it on purpose; word was he had really wanted the part I was playing, and I was led to believe by a couple of folks that it was most definitely not an accident. I might've padded during real performances, not sure. It was all still worth it. I remember the school newspaper's review of the show - glowing. I was really, really proud of this one. And again, I owed it to Dr. Monta. I got to go through a weird sort of primal scream therapy every night we did the show. Or at least some of it felt that way. And it was probably the zenith of my short-lived  acting career.

Wrapping up the spring of 1982 was a directing project of Kerri Logsdon's (I think), "You're A Good Man, Charlie Brown." I was pretty impressed that she took on a musical for a direction project (might as well set your stakes high!), and she asked me to be Schroeder in it. That meant I had to sing lead onstage for a couple songs. First time for that. I did okay (still remember the line "A book report....on Peter Rabbit....") and kind of ended up with a girlfriend out of it - I began to see Jackie Linn, who was playing Lucy. And that takes us on to summer.

PASS in 1982 was a blur. I was cast in a leading role in three of the four shows, and I did sound (with my ever present sound tapes) for the other show. The first show, which began rehearsals a couple of weeks before PASS began was Neil Simon's "The Star Spangled Girl." Jack Strawn was directing this one, and joining me were Mark Watson and Anna DeHaro, a tight three-person show. The plot revolves around two young men who publish a subversive magazine (set in the 60s) and the love triangle that develops with their neighbor Sophie, who in today's world would probably only watch Fox news. Why we wanted to update things I don't know (I'm sure it was either Jack or me), but I changed references in the script to bring it up to date and have the guys publishing a left-wing punk rock-oriented 'zine. As a result, I managed to wear out the only Sex Pistols shirt I ever owned. Costuming was quick and easy on this one! And I really enjoyed acting with both Mark, who had become a good friend by this time, and Anna, who was one of the best actresses we had but seemed totally unserious about it all.

The second show was "Bus Stop," which I was not in but spent each night in the sound booth, spinning some reels. Next up was "Arsenic and Old Lace," which you might be familiar with from the movie version, starring Cary Grant. And I had his part, Mortimer Brewster, who discovers his kindly aunts are poisoning old men to "help them along." This one was directed by Jim Hawley, who I haven't mentioned yet but was always great to be around. He was old school technical theatre, chainsmoking, and maybe the most friendly and approachable of our theatre staff. As a director, I always thought he was way more interested in the technical aspects of everything and just kind of let the actors get on with it. Which we did. It was kind of weird to have what I considered to be "the straight part" in something, but I got in a few funny moments. The others in the cast carried most of the comedy weight here, though, and they were fantastic.

The final show of PASS 1982 was the old chestnut "A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum." Old chestnut, but I knew nothing about it until auditioning. Chuck Pokorny, who knew all musicals it seemed and later to be my roommate, insisted I would get the part of Hysterium. And he was right. I had a solo song in this one, "I'm Calm," the joke being that this was one of those ever-nervous Don Knotts-type characters. And I went wild with it. Dr. Monta was directing this one, and Jack Strawn was cast as the lead, Pseudolus. If you've seen the movie, with Zero Mostel as Pseudolus, you'd have known Jack was our only choice for Psedolus, although I understand Whoopi Goldberg took a Broadway turn as that character. I'd really like to see a taping of that, if one exists anywhere. Anyway, broad comedy was the palette here, and we all delivered.

One instance I was reminded of a few years ago by Mark Watson and Valente Rodriguez: Jack apparently said a line incorrectly or at the wrong time or something that changed the plot in a major way. He did it toward the end of the second act and was pretty upset about it. (I really don't remember much of this, so I'm kind of paraphrasing what Mark and Valente told me.) They said I took a sheet of paper and quickly rewrote the beginning of the third act so everything would be on track again, and those lines were delivered...and all was well. Feels weird to pat yourself on the back when you don't even really remember what you did, but I'll pat myself on the back here. Good job, Lance. Amazing. Overall, the show was a nice way to end this PASS and move on to the fall.

By the fall of 1982, I was almost "old guard" in the Theatre Department (really a part of the Communications Department, but you get it). But, I was about to come down to earth a bit. The first play produced in the fall was "Candida," by George Bernard Shaw and directed here by Doug Cummins. Again, listening to the sound of Chuck Pokorny in my ear..."the Marchbanks part is yours." I don't remember much about the auditions themselves, but Doug cast Valente as Marchbanks, and Mark as Morell. I got the small role of Lexy. I'll admit it, I was a bit shocked. On hindsight, I needed that, though. And it was good to research a smallish part and put everything I had into it. In a weird way, Doug did me a favor, and he gave a great role to Valente, who I'll talk more about later...he went on to earn a living as an actor!

The later fall production was "The Importance of Being Earnest," by Oscar Wilde. Prepping to audition for this one, I read the play for the first time and could not believe how fall-off-your-chair funny it was. I mean, just read it sometime. It's like reading any sort of contemporary comedy. That was my first Wilde to read, and well, it made an impression. Dr. Monta was directing this one, and once again the "venticelli" (stealing from "Amadeus") were predicting Mark as Jack and me as Algernon, which if you're going to cast the both of us made the most sense. Jack is the quick-to-get-flustered character -  while Algernon enjoys life not caring about much of anything. Well, Dr. Monta cast just the opposite, Mark as Algernon, and me as Jack. We were going to have to work at this one. We did. I think it came off all right. I used to have a Beta cassette of the show when we video'd it in the TV studio, but I cannot find it at present. If I ever do, I'll have to get a professional company to transfer it, as I'm pretty sure the lone Beta machine in the garage is a lump of non-workingness. But, in the meantime...

Each year, there were competitions in Dallas for a scholarship named (and I guess, benefacted) for Irene Ryan (who most of you will remember as Granny on "Beverly Hillbillies). And so each year, the Theatre Department would nominate someone to compete for the scholarship. This year, the Department nominated Mark, and he decided he wanted to do a scene from "Earnest" for his turn, and that meant I went with him to Dallas for this. I remember it being a good time, and I went the following year. Wonder if that still exists (it's just a "Google" away!).

Is this the end of 1982? Well, for this story it is. The rest in a bit....

Theatre Days (1980-1981)

 A few weeks ago, Dr. Marian Monta, former chair of the Communications Department at Pan American University (later University of Texas Pan American, then UTRGV) passed away at the age of 88. Without even having to jot notes and think about it too much, I'd put her in the top five most influential people in my life. And I say that having only seen her twice in the last 33 years. This requires some explanation and much digging in the past. Here we go.

I began college in January of 1980 in Edinburg, Texas, having moved to the Rio Grande Valley with my mother some time after graduating from high school. Originally, I had planned to attend University of Houston, next door to Pearland, where I'd spent my high school years. Mom, in the meantime, had taken a job in McAllen, and rather than be broke all the time, I thought I'd give Pan Am a try, save some dough, and go from there. So, I moved south with her. Once down there I met a few people who were musicians, made some friends, had some fun, etc. I still wanted to be in a band, but there weren't a lot of opportunities there. The RGV at the time was fairly barren musically, unless you wanted to get some dudes together and bang out AC/DC tunes....not unfun by any means, but that's pretty much all you had in the Valley. If you had any other ambitions, well, get prepared to not be able to fulfill them easily. At the time, there were two groups of friends I had, and they were two bands themselves: Masque, who were a progressive rock band, and The Steroids, who were the Valley's only punk/new wave band. Due to my musical upbringing, I identified with both of them. But both drum seats were taken, and frankly, I wasn't very good then anyway. Still new to drumming, in a sense.

But, back to school. I started out in 1980 as a math major, with a computer science minor, so I began by placing into Analytic Geometry on the math side (test scores could move you up in the ranks), and took some computer programming classes - Basic, Fortran, and Cobol, as I recall. Once in the Analytic Geometry class, I quickly realized I didn't care about it. Weird, as I'd been a "math guy" my whole life. But college was different. And looking around at the other people in this class and my computer programming classes as well, I knew I didn't belong there. I quickly lost interest in AG and squeaked by without failing the class. And I mean, squeaked. I took a couple of math classes later in my college career to effectively erase that bad grade. But all this was telling me something. A major change was coming.

I took a couple of basics during the first summer session, just to knock them out of the way. One day I was talking with my mother about how this math thing might not ultimately be for me. She, and to this day I don't know if she was joking or not, suggested Communications. Why not? I think she even said that was Earl Campbell's major at UT. Skoal, brother - I'll give it a shot.

I signed up for Introduction to Communications in the fall and really had no idea what this might entail, other than knowing Radio, TV and Film came under that heading. Maybe this would be fun after all. Anyway, Intro to Communications was taught by Dr. Marian Monta, the department chair. Sounds like she took it seriously; I will, too. Upon first seeing her, I thought this woman is no-nonsense, and yet there was some underlying thing about her that I don't believe I ever really put my finger on, something that had me knowing she had all of our best interests at heart. So, the first thing I did was challenge her. That's right.

Early on in the semester, and before I think I'd even spoken a word to her, she gave us a spelling test, apparently the official Associated Press spelling test. It wasn't long, maybe 25 words or so. When I received the paper back, one of the words was marked as "incorrect." The word was "judgment," which  her marking said should be spelled "judgement." I should mention that I've always been a very good speller, and this did not set well with ol' "I'm Right!" here. In those pre-internet days, I went home that night, got out our trusty Webster's and saw that "judgment" was the American spelling, and that "judgement" was the British spelling. Kind of like "recognize" and "recognise." So the next class day, I marched to her desk to register my complaint. "Pardon me, Dr. Monta, but I spelled this word as an American would. Last time I checked, my citizenship still had 'States' following 'United,' not 'Kingdom.'" I'm sure I didn't say those words, but I probably showed some of the indignance implied in the sentence. After a minute of looking it up herself, she admitted I was right and quickly corrected my submission to reflect a grade of 100%. And from that day forward, she looked at me differently, and not at all in a negative way. What's weird to me is that she must have given that test countless times. Nobody questioned that spelling?? Or maybe it speaks to how commanding a presence she had. Let's move on.

One of the requirements we had in the Intro to Comm class was lab hours. And you could complete lab hours in a number of ways, such as working in the speech lab or journalism offices, or working crew on one of the university's theatre productions. One day, another department faculty member and play  director, Doug Cummins, walked in to recruit crew members for the production of "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof." It sounded like fun, and I thought that would take care of my lab hour requirement. So I volunteered for sound crew. Doug asked me what experience I had, and I answered that I was familiar with tape recorders and tape editing, etc., and he said "great!" and made me crew chief right there. Uh oh.

I took the job seriously and was in charge of cutting the pre-show and intermission music tapes (a job I kept for pretty much the rest of my Pan Am career) and performing offstage sound effects: telephones, door slams, etc. I had a blast and really enjoyed the cast and other crew members. I thought maybe I'd found a new home. We even took the play to some sort of festival at Sam Houston State in Huntsville and were there for a few days. This was good.

After getting back from Huntsville, it was only a few days later when Dr. Monta asked me if I would be her assistant director for the next production which she was directing. I said yes. The play was "Volpone," written by a contemporary of Shakespeare's named Ben Jonson. AD is one of those jobs that sounds a lot more prestigious than it really is. You get to wrangle everyone for the director, and most importantly for me, as it turned out, you hold book during early read-throughs and fill in for anybody absent. And one of the major character actors was absent for the first couple of read-throughs. The character's name was Corbaccio, and as this was somewhat of a comedy, he was mostly a befuddled old man, a fool. The play was about a lot of people after the inheritance of Volpone, who pretends to be on his deathbed. Corbaccio is one of them after the loot. Even in these early read-throughs, and not really knowing all the context of the piece, I played it up a bit. I guess I was making everybody laugh, and after the cast actor had to bow out of the show, Dr. Monta asked if I wanted to try the role. I said "yes" without even thinking about it. Big turning point here.

I should mention here that I was quite a shy boy. I'd spent a lot of my youth being shuttled between parents, and as an only child, I had become pretty withdrawn. I never really had a problem making friends, but when you're moved around a lot, it's hard to keep any. To this day, there are still several friends I had when I was young that I wonder whatever happened to. My generation doesn't like Facebook a whole lot, it seems. The fall of 1980 changed everything. I was plopped on a stage in an outrageous costume and told "dance, boy!" I did. And I still am, to some extent.

I was off to the races. The show was a success, although Mark Servis, who was playing the lead character, had broken his leg in a caving accident. A special set was built, so he could lie or sit for the majority of the performance, some references being added to his having gout. I played it up, as I really didn't know a whole lot about what I was doing. I Tim Conwayed a lot of it, bumping into the sets, getting immediately confused about where I was going, etc. But whatever I did seemed to work and to please Dr. Monta. The best thing I learned in that first production was the concept of focus, how to pull it, how to give it, etc. To this day, I use that in drumming. Drum fills and general showing off are for when the singer isn't singing and no one else has some sort of featured solo. Sounds simple enough, but a lot of musicians don't think about it. Thanks, Dr. Monta!

Most of the productions at this time were held in the 1000-plus seat Fine Arts Auditorium, a mammoth cave where you really had to project (across an orchestra pit!) and have exaggerated movements. I was good at that sort of stuff, in a way I never could be for the camera.

I rather quickly became omnipresent in Pan Am productions, in one way or another. Mostly on the stage, but sometimes as crew only. In the spring of 1981, I was in the general chorus of "The Mikado," I created the sound tapes for an original show called "Saturday Serial" (don't remember if I auditioned or not), and then it was time for the first Summer Stock session. The biggest change, though, for this time period, was the arrival of one Mark Watson. He would become the closest I had to a constant acting partner during this time....but not yet.

Also, in March of 1981, I had the opportunity to visit NYC for the first time. Each year, theatre patrons would sponsor several students to take in a bunch of Broadway shows - you know, "broad"ening us. That meant we still had some expense, but it cut the costs a lot. So, I got to go to New York for ten days or so. We stayed near Broadway around 45th or 46th street, not far from Times Square. Movies like "Basket Case" show this time period in midtown Manhattan perfectly. Lots o' sleaze. This sheltered boy dug it. I got to go to the record store on Bleecker Street that I'd heard of forever, and I ended up having to ship a whole box of records home (the Valley wasn't the best place for record shopping). We also saw all the hot Broadway hits of that time, like "Barnum," "The Pirates of Penzance," and "A Day in Hollywood/A Night in the Ukraine." We saw an off-Broadway play I cannot remember the name of now, in some small theatre, starring Frances Sternhagen and Ralph Waite (The Waltons' pop!). And, best of all, we saw two performances (some of us had to go back) of "Amadeus," which was brand new then and is still probably the best performance of any play I've ever seen. This starred Ian McKellen, Tim Curry, and Jane Seymour. If you've seen the movie, and that is a good film, sorry, the play blows it away, just in terms of sheer effect - the way it's presented. I saw it one more time when working a touring company performance in 1982 or so, and that was almost as good. It's just a freaking good play. I suppose I should mention some of us also saw "Caligula" (the movie), which was only in release in LA and New York at the time. That was the first and maybe only time someone's passed me a joint in a movie theater. I still remember after we returned to the hotel, a couple of our friends who hadn't gone asked how it was. Tina Atkins said "it sucked. Literally!"

Moving on a few months - Pan American Summer Stock (or PASS) had been running for quite a few years before I did one, and was one solid month of nothing but theatre (maybe a meal occasionally) - and you got six hours of college credit for it. I did three during my theatre days, the first in 2001. The four shows were "The Fourposter" (I cut the sound tapes), "Two By Five," which was a musical revue (I think I cut pre-show music, but this one I don't remember much about), "The Prisoner of Second Avenue," a Neil Simon play directed by Dr. Monta (sound crew for this one again), and "Pippin," directed by Doug Cummins (I was a "player," or chorus member). Despite not being on stage too much, I look at this as one of the happiest summers of my life. It was a frigging blast. One solid month of in-house classes, rehearsals, shows, partying, etc. The finale of this first PASS was the annual parody, which I had some part in writing, and I had the lead part of....whatever we changed Pippin's name to. It was fairly filthy, largely due to Holly Zimmerman, who I was dating at the time and was one of the funniest people I've ever known. As I recall, we showed Pippin's birth by me sliding down the "Pippin" set's slide from way below some poor actress' open legs. I remember a lot of laughter, so it couldn't have been all bad. Plus, frankly, I treated it as another audition, as everyone was there.

The fall of 1981 saw me moving on up, as they say. The first show was "Not By Bed Alone," a French farce where I played the character of Bouzin. Second-billed, not bad. The play was fairly hilarious, with lots of running around, slamming of doors, etc. by the end. Doug Cummins directed it. And now I have a confession to make. When the show was about to be cast, and all of us wanna-be's were reading the script, all I heard about was the character of General Irrigua, a Latin American general who was an obnoxious blowhard and probably the focal point of a lot of the comedy in the show. We all suspected that Rafael Torres, a naturally funny guy from NYC, would get the part, and he did. I liked Rafael a lot; we had fun times and acted in a few other things together. But hearing the constant ha-ha'ing about the General (largely from the director) lit a fire under me. I was determined to make my character even funnier. And I think I did. Art is not a competition; I'll be the first to say that. But at that time, in my life, I constantly felt like I had something to prove. I worked hard.

I did pay for some of this "enthusiasm," though. In the last couple of acts of the show, I had to run around backstage a lot, running to make cues from one side of offstage to the other side, etc. It was an energetic show, in general, and I was just trying to keep up. One night, toward the end of the second of three acts, I got my foot caught under a piece of scenery, up on wheels, when I was trying to get from one side of the darkened offstage to the other, and I heard a crack, followed by screaming pain. During intermission, one of our theatre patrons, a doctor, came back to look at me. He makeshift-wrapped my ankle, and I toughed out the third act. I remember being carried a few times from one offstage side to the other. But I made it through the rest. And went directly to the ER afterward. I was on crutches for about a week after that. It got me out of strike (the dismantling of the set, following the last performance). I have ankle issues to this day - irritating for a drummer.

Following a bit of healing, I did something none too bright. I accepted two roles, one for the Music Department and one for our department, performances happening on the same days. Weirdly, though, the Music Department's show was "A Christmas Carol," and I was cast as Scrooge, a non-singing role in an otherwise opera. For some reason, the MD cast me as Scrooge for the matinee performances and another actor as Scrooge for the evening performances. Weird, but fun, too. I was doing a show in the evenings called "El Grande de Coca Cola," one of the most fun times I've had. The show is a cabaret act happening somewhere in Mexico, and I played the emcee and troupe leader, Don Pepe Hernandez (I think, might have to get the program out). The great thing about this one is - the show was all in Spanish (I knew fifty words, maybe), and largely improvised for the emcee. I had a ball. Jack Strawn directed it, and as he was always wont to do, he let me run wild....whether that was a good thing or not, I don't know. But I'm eternally grateful to Jack (RIP) for his constant encouragement to be as entertaining as I could be. The show, as I mentioned, was a cabaret put on by a family, so every performer was related to Don Pepe in some way. Ridiculous, non-impressive magic acts, terrible humor, it had it all. I would usually pick on a couple of people in the audience for particular barbs. I'm missing it just typing about it. So, in a nutshell, I was performing as Scrooge in "A Christmas Carol" during the afternoon, then washing all the gray out of my hair, etc. to get ready for the evening performances. The "El Grande" performances were held in the cafeteria, for some reason. I guess to get enough people in, but close enough to be able to interact with.

This post is already incredibly long, so I think I'll break the remaining years up....

Rain, Rain, Staying Home, Rain, etc.

Here I'm is again. Since I posted last, a few things have happened of note.

I guess first is that the Hickoids played one of these Facebook livestreams designed to help the Lost Well out, paying their rent, etc. And it turned out to be a fine, fine time. We had not rehearsed for it at all, but I suspect we'd all had some amount of self-practice; I had certainly run through the live album and new songs for it. Wouldn't you know it? Most of the stuff we ended up playing was not stuff I'd practiced at all, but it still went fine. Upon watching some of it later, I thought it was a pretty good show, and John Petri made the whole thing sound pretty fantastic. A lot of money was raised for the LW, which was the important thing. And I had a blast playing again. Unfortunately, I was not able to keep a mask on while playing. I began the set with mine on, but after the song was over, I was a-wheezin'. So, most of the set, I joined Jeff in not wearing a mask. The others all did, admirably. But then, with all the drum equipment around me, I was never close to the others, anyway. I guess.

I did add the sampler to the mix; loading a lot of applause sounds in it, so it was almost like an audience was there! (No, it wasn't.) Along with other goofy interjections, the sampler added to the show. Michelle came out as well, and she had a good time, dancing in front of us and whatnot. We needed that. And I needed it from a playing point of view. I believe the last post mentioned how I was losing some will to play, but naah.....I still got it.

Last Wednesday was Michelle's birthday, so I took the day off work, and we went to Enchanted Rock, a place neither one of us had ever been. It was fun, but we should have gone much earlier. The temperature was in the 90s by the time we were climbing the main rock. Jeeziz! But we did almost make it to the top, and I suspect we'll make a return trip sometime (cooler) and go "all the way." For a time, I thought we'd make it, but it's as well, we didn't. We were both exhausted by the time we got back to the car. Afterward, we went into Llano and bought a night stand table at a thrift shop. It now supports my night lamp and CPAP machine. Looks good. And later, we got food from Asiana, one of Michelle's fave Indian joints.

Friday, Michelle's parents brought us food from El Dorado and her birthday cake. It was good to see them; had been about three months, I believe!

That's all for now. Not feeling especially creative on the writing front!