Humor Abuse

We went to see Lorenzo Pisoni’s solo show, “Humor Abuse” at the Manhattan Theatre Club last night. It was a touching performance by a man who in the 1970’s was a child clown in the San Francisco based Pickle Family Circus and who as an adult is a serious New York actor.

I never saw the Pickle Family Circus, but we watched videos with reverence at Clown College because that was where Bill Irwin (the clown who became a MacArthur Fellow had gone to develop his own style with Larry Pisoni and Geoff Hoyle after graduating from the Ringling Bros and Barnum & Bailey Clown College (and Oberlin). But, I remember the black and white photograph of Larry Pisoni with his son in identical clown costumes. As a novice clown struggling to master basic juggling in a few short weeks, growing up with circus parents seemed like a much easier way to go.

Apparently not.

According to the show “Humor Abuse” learning to be a clown from a father who is a professional clown didn’t sound that much different from growing up with a football coach for a father. Same type of obsession just practicing different skills. I’m thinking sports analogies because yesterday afternoon before seeing Lorenzo Pisoni’s show and this morning after the performance, I escorted My Kid to her first and second AYSO soccer games of the season. As an eight-year-old she is unable to participate in league soccer unless her parents are also willing to participate on a game by game basis.

I think about the similarities between playing fields and circus rings. I didn’t play team sports as a child and didn’t find that kind of focus until I began to perform with the Missoula Children’s Theatre under the direction of Jim Caron, at about the same time that Lorenzo. Pisoni was working with his father. The two organizations had the same do-it-yourself aesthetic of the 1970’s that grew out of the cooperative ideals of the 1960’s and shaped the lives of those who came of age in the 1980’s.

Clown Troupe–Breakdance Team

This afternoon…
After spending several hours in the studio with the clown women working in ensemble, I escorted My Kid uptown where we stopped for a few moments in front to the Plaza Hotel to enjoy the acrobatic stylings of the Breeze Team performing their breakdance tricks with comedic flair for the tourists in front of the Plaza Hotel by Central Park.
Both were all about comedy for an audience.
The same purpose.
One was all Testosterone.
One was all Progesterone.

A bit of a clown Friday

Adam’s all gaga over his baby he wasn’t there. Well I wasn’t there either. But, we checked the box office at “Humor Abuse” to see if there were tickets. (Tonight’s show was sold out but we have tickets for tomorrow night.) We got to see lots of clowns I know in front of the theatre. Jay Stewart was there in town for the weekend, and Lisa Lewis with her husband (Their kid chose not to accompany her clown parents to someone else’s clown show when there was an opportunity to play with a Wii.) Michael Bongar was there with his wife. There were others I knew. It’s the last weekend of Larry Pisoni’s kid’s solo show about growing up with a clown for a dad.

It was a clown day for me. After I got My Kid successfully to her daily spring break swimming lesson at the Y (notice how I haven’t had any Pilates classes or lap swims this week…), transfered her care and feeding to The Husband who was taking a long childcare related lunch, I got to spend a couple of hours playing in the studio with Kendall and the other clown women. It was good to do. It’s been a while.

Then uptown on the train with My Kid and The Husband, returning him to his office and accompanying my kid to FAO Schwartz for the last afternoon of the last Friday of her Spring Vacation. She spent an hour hanging around the adoptable baby dolls, so I was softened up and let her paint a penguin in the new ceramic painting section of the toy store. I did one too to keep myself from getting bored. I hope I will have the courage to throw it away as I am trying to clear clutter. It was like buying a sandwich to sit in a cafe because your feet hurt even though you aren’t hungry.

After we didn’t get into the play we went and had a lovely end of the week family dinner at Trattorio Spaggetto in the West Village. It’s not the best Italian food in the city, but it’s the best location between a church and a public fountain.

I had hope of going out and talking with clowns tonight (Jef Johnson is also performing this evening) but after wine and heavy food with My Kid and The Husband, I find myself home in the apartment typing up a quick blog entry while My Kid watches some “SpongeBob SquarePants” before the entire weekend becomes about My Kid and the AYSO Spring Soccer Season which begins for our family tomorrow!!!!!!

Passover Lice

Mrs Rosenfeld had just finished cleaning her kitchen for Passover when we arrived at 4 o’clock. The cupboards and drawers were empty and the countertops were bare. She was in the process of sending her two sons aged 2 and 3 outside with a teenage girl and a baby in a stroller. “Go for a long walk,” she instructed the older girl, before turning to me and explaining that the family had been to a wedding the night before and hadn’t gotten home until midnight and the children were cranky.

I brought my daughter to this Orthodox home in Brooklyn to be checked for lice, after obtaining the woman’s phone number from several other mothers on the playground at My Kid’s school. I called her the morning after I got an apologetic phone call from the mother of one of My Kid’s friends who had hosted My Kid for a playdate at her home the previous week. They had been to the lice lady and her daughter had them. After school the previous afternoon, another mother on the playground, who had already been through the lice ordeal with her twins some weeks prior became suspicious of the tiny white dots she noticed in the dark hair of this friend if her daughter who had also had playdates with My Kid.

If this had happened three years ago, I think I would have killed myself. There is no way I could have dealt with lice. Pillows on the couch. Laundry on the floor. My Kid climbing into our bed. Stuffed animals everywhere.

But, I have been listening to the lice stories of the other mothers on playgrounds and in kitchens for over three years. When it finally happened to us, I knew what to do. Call the legendary lice lady of Brooklyn and go get combed out in her kosher kitchen full of children.

I was kind of excited to go in that living-through-a-natural-disaster-where-nobody-gets-hurt way because I had heard so much about this Orthodox mother of 14 who pays her children’s Yeshiva school tuition combing out lice. It’s A BROOKLYN THING like eating cheesecake at Junior’s Restaurant or riding the Wonder Wheel at Coney Island, or having a conversation drowned out by the Q train passing over the waterfront playground in Dumbo.

This woman she’s AMAZING!

Mrs. Abigail F. Rosenfeld, Lice Consultant functions a family therapist. That’s what you’re paying for. We paid her almost as much as we paid the lawyer who did our taxes. But, it was worth it. There was an extra charge for the time it took to comb through my daughters butt-length hair which I didn’t mind paying and I bought an extra German-engineered surgical steel lice come out of sheer paranoia.

As Mrs. Rosenfeld combs the child’s hair she calms the parents and teaches them how to do it themselves. People do crazy things, she said. There is no need to cut a child’s hair. She tells parents not to panic or exhaust themselves.

When I first heard of lice I learned that you have to wash anything made of fabric in the house that the child has touched; All the bedding in the house, All the child’s clothes, Shampooing carpets and upholstery, wipe down every inch of everything and all the toys in the house have to be sealed in plastic bags for two months until the lice on them die. This sort of thing can be accomplished by quitting work and staying home to clean 24-hours a day for a solid week or two. I had also heard of killing the lice by covering the child’s head with olive oil or mayonnaise or some other goey disgusting substance and leaving it there for hours. On the internet I saw a video of a woman demonstrating going over a child’s head approximate 20 hairs at a time pulling off nits individually. It’s an impossible standard. And many schools have a no nit policy which means children can miss weeks of school while their mother struggles to figure out how to get rid of them and putting her own job in jeopardy staying home with kids who aren’t even sick.

This is what Abigail Rosenfeld Lice Consultant told me to do:

Wash all the child’s bedding and the bedding of any other bed she has been in or on. Vaucum all the furniture and carpeting. Wash the clothing the child has worn. The school backpack has to go into a plastic bag for two weeks. Stuffed animals go in plastic bags for two weeks. (Much less time than the two months I had in mind) If the animals or dolls is very special it can sit alone on a high shelf out of reach for two weeks. (and not suffocate in the plastic bag of stuffed animal jail as My Kid calls it.) If they hang together all the family’s coats need to be washed or dry cleaned but as the dry cleaning bills and exhaustion increase–if you can’t deal with it, just put it in a plastic bag for two weeks.

The combing out process itself is simple and takes place in her kitchen where she is the calm eye in the center of the storm as her own children run in and out with homework questions and requests for money to go to the corner store for ice cream or crispy snacks. As she works she speaks on the phone which rings frequently, talks to the parents of the child she combs and guides her children with words.

A boy of about six decides he doesn’t want the tuna bagel he just brought in from the corner store. She instructs him to put it into the refrigerator. Ten minutes later when the preschool boys arrive after their walk she tells someone else to get the bagel and divide it between the little ones.
“Give him some of your tuna bagel”
“It’s a mitzvah to share with your brother.”
“Could you get the toy of that top shelf for them.”
“Would you mind holding the baby.”
“Please take the laundry downstairs.”

First she puts Pantene conditioner on the child’s dry hair. (Pantene brand conditioner was not created to remove lice, but it is the right consistency to immobilize the bugs and it’s easy to see the tiny insects and nits against the product’s bright white color) She combs through the hair looking for lice. She wipes the conditioner off the comb onto a white tissue looking for lice which she then shows to the parents and children so they will know what to look for in the future. Second, she sprinkles some baking soda on top of the creme rinse and combs it out again, this time to get the nits, or lice eggs which I was also taught to identify. The baking soda acts as an abrasive and scrapes the nits off the hair shaft.

Her little children want juice and attention.
Her bigger children want homework help and cash for the corner store.

Because the kitchen was clean and bare while we were there, she was constantly handing out dollars to different children who went to the corner store for their after school snacks and collecting the change from them when they returned. One little boy came in with salty chips she didn’t like him to eat, but she let it slide after she made him share most of them with his brothers. When the tired two-year old started mouthing off she let it slide saying, “He’s a real boy.” The experienced mother of 14, recognized the futility of disciplining a tired and hungry two year old.

There are other older children, but I did not see them. Perhaps they choose not to pop into the kitchen while their mother was combing the lice out of some yet another strangers hair.
She told me one of her daughters prefers to use the fine-toothed metal comb for daily hair care. Gee I wonder why.

When her husband arrives home at the end of the work day, he moves about the house with a stethescope around his neck, as he continues to see patients in another room.

Mrs. Rosenfeld hadn’t yet started dinner when a family arrived from Manhattan, late for their 6:00 pm appointment. (In a Volvo, from Dalton, the Upper East Side school Mariel Hemingway’s character attended in the Woody Allen movie “Manhattan”)

I wondered if the Rosenfelds were able to keep up this pace because as Orthodox Jews they know that every Friday they will have to (or get to) turn everything off and stop working completely.

Putting things in plastic bags for two weeks. How similar to the preparation for Passover when all the bread must be removed from the house and countertops and other things are covered with plastic for the 8 days of passover.

As of the last day of school before spring break, 9 children in my daughter’s 3rd Grade class had been identified with lice.

Oh and by the way, the Third Plague in the story of Moses in the Book of Exodus: LICE

Clownlab…Theatrelab

Clownlab
Clownical Trials
Red wine
Ringling Bros.
Madison Square Garden
Jerzy Grotowski
Living Theatre
NYU Film School
Documentaries
Tragedies
Comedies
Warner Bros.
Chuck Jones
Bugs Bunny
Seattle
New York
Broadway
9/11
WTO
Neutral mask
Dodi diSanto
Paris
Italy
Eugene, Oregon
Carlo Mazzone-Clementi
Texas
Foghorn Leghorn
Six Flags
Clown College
Suede Jacket
Pecans
Strawberries
South Paris, Maine
Passover Seder
Central Park
Sunburn
Comedia Dell’Arte
California
Improvisation
Raising children
Rental
Fri/Sat
Box office take
October or March
TBA
Theatrelab

Such a long exhausting week I was afraid I would forget to show up at the theatre for my own perfomance

By Saturday I was so exhausted I was afraid I would forget to show up for my own performance in “Clownical Trials” at Theatrelab. It has been a very long week.

It began to go south a week ago Saturday at 8:00 am when the buzzer rang while we were still asleep. It was the Verizon repairman there to check the phone line that enters our apartment in the bedroom. We hadn’t had phone service for over two weeks and this was the third repairman–the first to arrive before 2 pm.

Early Sunday morning I had to get My Kid up and dressed and to her religious education class as per the Friday e-mail informing us that the regular “first Sunday of each month” class was THIS SUNDAY MARCH 29–big surprise to me and to many others… (because of Palm Sunday festivities on Sunday April Fools Day). We joined My Kid’s friend and her mother to hear the PS 8 choir at an event but it ran long and My Kid had been promised “Monsters vs Aliens” so we left and bought our tickets at the Court Street Theatre an hour early. We went across the street to a deli for sandwiches but by the time we had eaten and The Husband had hooked up with us and we returned to the theatre with our tickets only to discover there were no seats together except in the front row four feet from the screen. My Kid produced tears and we left although her friend was willing to stay so we didn’t get to see it together. We exchanged our tickets for the next show pushing back dinner and homework and started the week tired:

Unaware of the week that was about to unfold I wasted energy walking from My Kid’s school in Brooklyn Heights to the McBurney Y on 14th street in Manhattan where I took two Pilates classes and got some writing done before returning to pick up my child after school. After she played in the playground for a while we caught a train to Grand Central Station meet up with The Husband and go together to our appointment to have our taxes done by someone we’d never met. Our previous tax preparer, the only one we’ve ever used (our lives were simple and we did our own taxes when we lived in Seattle) passed away. The tax man we met does pro bono work for small theaters and he was so nice that I didn’t go through the shame of failure I usually experience when my work as a “performing artist” is examined and graded on the income tax report card. That made me so happy.

Afterwards, there was still the chore of dinner (I just don’t understand why The Husband and My Kid can’t be satisfied with a meal of “Odwalla Super Protein” and a banana–like me.)

As a reward for sitting through the tax meeting My Kid was allowed to choose the restaurant. When she saw the lights of Times Square she thought immediately of the Bubba Gump Shrimp theme restaurant! At least there was no line to get in on a Monday. Happy child with her light up theme beverage glass changing the license plate sign that says, “Run Forrest Run” or “Stop Forrest Stop” to control the attention of the happy jokey servers. I would have preferred to slink into dark booth for a quiet sip of wine and decompress…

Then it was Tuesday. I spent several hours sorting through some old papers at home before running out of time and going to pick up My Kid from school. Two of the mothers on the playground were commiserating over the hair of one of my daughters friends. The experienced mother told the other mother, “That looks like a nit”. The lady in Borough Park was called. An appointment was set for that very day. That evening I got the call from the mother of My Kid’s friend (who had hosted my child for a playdate the previous week). Positive!

Mobilize! I woke up at 3 am and researched lice on the internet until dawn. On Wednesday morning I called the lady. We went after school and paid almost as much as we had paid the tax lawyer for her to comb the vermin out of My Kid’s hair which hangs down to her butt.

On Thursday I changed all the bedding and spent FIVE HOURS at the laundromat washing more than 12 loads of laundry. Coats were sent out to be dry cleaned. All the stuffed animals and couch pillows went into plastic bags for two weeks. Or stuffed animal jail as My Kid calls it. Thursday night there was a 4-hour rehearsal at Theatrelab for Jef’s remount of “Clownical Trials”

Friday morning I was again the Y for Pilates and swimming. I’m trying increase my stamina. I had time for one hour of Jef’s three-hour afternoon workshop between before returning to Brooklyn Heights to catch the Brownie Girl Scout ceremony (at which the experiences lice mother identified nits in the hair of yet another friend of my child!)

Saturday for me was all about spending time with My Kid and The Husband and making sure meals were consumed before I left around 4 to make the 5 o’clock call for the 8:00 pm performance. I can’t say it was our best family day. We were all tired and cranky. None of us had slept well for days. I have my own mixed up life. The Husband has a “real” and therefore stressful job in Manhattan and My Kid is under pressure to “read more” of the books she doesn’t like and should be taken out for a bit of a run–like a dog, ideally twice a day.

After the performance there was a reception with some interesting creative types, but I was done being awake by 11:00 pm. (I took the L to Williamsburg to change to the G because the A and the C weren’t running. I was home just after midnight.) The younger performers went out for more drinks and conversation. Another time I would have joined them. But, this Saturday I was too worn out by the mommy part of my clown life.

Pretty Pretty…Miss Pettigrew Lives For A Day

Shiela Callahan’s “Pretty Pretty; or, The Rape Play” closing tonight at Rattlestick Playwrights Theatre in the West Village and the 2008 film “Miss Pettigrew Lives For A Day” starring Frances McDormand and Amy Adams don’t have a damn thing in common except that I saw them both within the same 24-hour period.

S0 these two pieces have been on my mind for the last so many hours…and…

I am so proud of Sheila’s play.  Watching it,  knowing her work.  She’s a friend from an Annex Hothouse in Seattle at the turn of the century…   It’s–her style, people, stuff (and she has a lot of stuff)…pushing buttons.  The last 20 minutes, when the (**spoiler alert!!–but it’s closing this weekend so if you’re not there now you’re not going to see it–too bad for you it’s really good) screenwriter was taking imaginary questions–all of a sudden it was powerful.  (Like Whoopie Goldberg’s monologue about the Valley Girl who gets a coat hanger abortion, all light and fun and stereotypes and then crack, crunch, the turn of the screw-key-handcuffs..Oh Man HARSH!)

 All of a sudden Sheila’s play came together.  Rape/Abortion/Anorexia/Sisters/Jane Fonda/Casual Sex/Marriage/Social Situations/Formal Dresses/Guns-and-sex movies and video games/Alcohol/Abu Ghraib/Burkas/Doctor patient relationships/Mothers…What the H…!  And that’s why she got so many write ups this time and John Lahr  of the The New Yorker called her out as a playwright to watch.

And

In “Miss Pettigrew Lives For A Day”…The young people…they don’t remember the last war…no they don’t…they don’t know…Love is all there is…

In my mind these two pieces are about women in the world…

It’s like this…and that…

No really!  It is!

friend’s play

still thinking about Sheila Callahan’s “Pretty Pretty; or The Rape Play”.

New Yorker magazine

Coney Island

Our apartment before we bought the air conditioner.

Galaxy Diner 

Pregnant men

Seattle

Annex

Printer’s Devil

L.A. la la land

Husbands

Babies

Writing

remount

So Jef is coming back into town and he wants to remount “Clownical Trials”.  

The other day, I went to the Guggenheim with my daughters entire 3rd grade.  

Last time it was during the first incarnation of “Clownical Trials” at Theatrelab and I thought.  This exhibit is weird.  Jef’s show is weird.  These are my people!

This last time–albeit with almost 90 third graders and no chance to look at the pieces I liked…

I found myself thinking things like; “Well this artist is really arrogant.”  and  “What made that artist think this was a good idea?”