The Adoption Cube

Note: This article was originally published here, where my friend Luanne (dontwelookalike.wordpress.com) added her beautiful background –re-posting …

The Adoption Cube

100 Words About Jell-O

Words that make no sense to a child.

“If you don’t take those ear-muffs off, you’ll be freezing when you go out.”

My Nana had this yellow enamel pan with a black line around the top edge. She made the Jell-O in it. She made that jello just for me. Oh, she made a couple of other things in that pan, like baked beans, but the jello was mine, and it was always there. I understood that my parents and my mom’s parents would always be there for me, just the way the jello was always there.
It may not sound like such a big deal, but these are the things that separate us from the animals.
100 words about Jello. There.

My Letter From Edward Albee-(Out of the memory box #3)

My letter from Edward Albee Circa 2002 My letter from Edward Albee Circa 2002

Edward Albee’s passing last week was a little hard to take: we only have a couple great American Playwrights left. I wrote him a letter once, and he wrote one to me. The letter (above) was a response to my effusive love of the play “The Goat.” I thought I was the only person that would love the play and I wrote Mr. Albee so he wouldn’t get his feelings hurt when the mixed reviews started rolling in.

(The reviews were so mixed, some critics didn’t review it at all, while it went on to win the Tony award for Best Play 2002). When all of your plays are held up to your “big” play, Whose Afraid of Virginia Woolf? which you wrote when you were 30, life can seem like a downward spiral, I suppose.

Turns out  Mr. Albee didn’t need the kudos from me; in addition to the Tony, the was a runner-up for a Pulitzer that year. I put the tickets in the memory box and didn’t think too much about it until last week, when I saw Mr. Albee’s obituary.

*

We rushed into to the theater and took our seats as the house lights flashed a couple quick blinks for the two-minute warning. We sat up close to the stage in the historic Golden Theatre, so close that when Mercedes Ruehl smashes a plate during a climactic scene, I just about jumped out of my chair. There were glass shards lining the edge of the stage. How nobody lost an eye is part of the magic that is Broadway.

Bill Pullman, the level-headed President in the film Independence Day paired with Ruelh. Together they used Albee’s words to lead you to forget how life is when you think YOU have it weird.  The lead actress does the only thing you can do when your husband might have a very hairy mistress. She drinks.

Jeffrey Carlson, (Hitch, All My Children) , did an amazing job as an awkward teenager playing an awkward teenager in an awkward play. Years later I would find out he was no teenager-kudos to hair and makeup.

I was so mind-blown by the content of the play that I wrote a letter to the playwright, Edward Albee. Surprised when he wrote me back, one sentence from his letter would forever change me:

“No two people see the same play!”

Think about this, it not only rings true, it magnifies the theater-going experience and it means that even your grandmother might enjoy a play where sex with a goat is analogous to all of man’s depravity. It seems so simple but it served as a springboard to freedom to write some of the grittier things that, up until that time, caused me to shy away.

I’m not sure what I wrote to Mr. Albee that garnered me such a profuse thank you note, and it was likely the last handwritten note that made it into the memory box before email took over the correspondent world.

Rest In Peace Edward Albee 3/12/28-9/16/2016

 

 

 

9/11/01

jayesbrain

I was working at the cable company, surrounded by televisions. Everyone was leaving the building. I stayed and waited for more people to arrive for work; I didn’t believe the media coverage of what had happened.  It was all so incomprehensible to me, a “War of the Worlds” kind of hoax. A few people with loved ones stuck in the city were crying. The next day a bunch of us got together and l went to church, a bunch of people of varying denominations went to a local Catholic church to pray. (My dad always told us there were no atheists in a fox hole, this would be the day that I understood him). It wasn’t until the third night after the attack that the smell started to drift to the local harbor.

People held open the doors for strangers entering the grocery store. People made eye contact.  I didn’t…

View original post 100 more words

Boo-Boo tongue!

Background for a new post…in case you missed this: http://wp.me/p2GNGE-p3

jayesbrain

Boo-boo tongue

The calendar on the wall, the daily kind where you tear off a sheet each day, said November 12.  Even now, six years later, I can’t simply say what day it is, I need to go “JanFebMarAMayJune JAugSeptOctNOV!”, with my lips moving to keep my place, or else I have to start all over again. The day in question is November 12, 2006, the first post-surgery day/date that I can remember. (While I remember little to none of the following events, notes from my journal enable me to share them with you now).

Three distinct things stuck me:

  1. I have boo-boo tongue!
  2. How can it be the 12th , I’m pretty sure it is the 2nd.
  3. If it really is the 12th, why am I still in the hospital?

I wanted to talk, but my tongue hurt! It had a boo-boo. Why doesn’t someone…

View original post 472 more words