Once a Catholic

A few months ago I attended a very fine production of "Doubt," John Patrick Shanley's Pulitzer Prize winning play about a nun and a priest caught in a conflict over events that may or not have happened.

While it was certainly thought-provoking, for me it was also a nostalgic period piece that provoked a flood of childhood memories. It was set in a Catholic school in the 60's, which is exactly where I spent my childhood.  The sisters in the play were Sisters of Charity, the same order who taught at St. Anselm's which I attended from kindergarten through 12th grade, so I recognized their bonnets.  And Sister Aloysius, the tough-as-nails, unyielding, humorless school principal?  I think I had her in the fifth grade.

But more telling was that every time the priest finished one of his on-stage sermons, I immediately felt the need to cross myself.  It was automatic.

The truth is that no matter how my faith or beliefs have evolved over the years, the fact that I attended a Catholic school has stayed with me in some very specific ways.  

I not only fight the urge to automatically cross myself after fictional sermons, I randomly cross myself in tough situations when I feel some divine intervention might be helpful.

I still say "Good morning, Sister" or "Good Afternoon, Father" when crossing the path of a priest or a nun on the street.

I still follow instructions to the letter due to the lessons of obedience taught me in school, which has served me well as an adult writing grant proposals in the workplace.

Whenever I have committed a misdeed, no matter how minor, I have this pressing need to confess it to someone before I can lose the crushing guilt that accompanies it.

Also, I have a pervasive aversion to uniforms, which I hated wearing in school.  I felt even then that my school uniform robbed me of my self expression and have avoided any profession requiring me to wear one as an adult. 

So I left the play with few conclusions about what took place in the play.  Was the priest guilty of misconduct?  I didn't think so but I couldn't be sure.  Was the nun on a witch hunt with no real proof to go on?  I thought so but I couldn't be certain.

However, there was one thing that was clear.  You can take the girl out of the Catholic school but you can't take the Catholic school out of the girl.  There's no Doubt about that.

Peace, Love and Catholic School

When I was a child I thought occasionally about what I wanted to be or do when I grew up.  I considered a lot of different possibilities, but didn’t get too serious about anything, because I was…a child.  You don’t have to make any hard and fast life decisions at the age of 12.

The only thing I knew for sure is that I desperately wanted to be a hippie someday.  I was a child of the 60's, and I was fascinated by the whole hippie lifestyle. It was all so romantic.  Peace, love, flowers and tie-dyed t-shirts, not to mention the anti-war folk music.

  

My hopelessly old-fashioned parents strictly forbid me from getting anywhere near the “scene” even when I became a teenager.  They wouldn't even let me walk the streets of Swissvale after dark or go to Frick Park with my friends, so it wasn't really surprising that they frowned on my attending two-day rock concerts in upstate New York, or even peaceful demonstrations in Point State Park.  They really weren't very groovy.

And they weren't the only ones holding me back.  When I was fighting for the rights of the migrant farm workers, my bosses at Winky's wouldn't let me wear my “Boycott Lettuce” button at work. When I wanted to wear my embroidered bell bottoms to school, the administrators at St. Anselm’s insisted that I wear a –shudder- navy blue uniform jumper.  Talk about squelching my creative expression!

What’s a wannabe radical flower child to do?  I dabbled as best I could under these restrictive conditions.  I listened to the Hair soundtrack until I practically had it memorized, and when I saw the show actually hung out with the Tribe, chatting with Joe Mantegna for a couple of minutes when they invited audience members on stage.  I immersed myself in folk music and protest music– Woody Guthrie, Pete Seeger, and Peter, Paul and Mary, were my favorites- as well as the other music of the day. I passionately supported the rights of all people everywhere, and was especially fond of the concept of world peace.  I was overjoyed when Godspell came out.  I joined the Folk Mass Group at church (we sang a rockin' version of “Our Father”).

And I bided my time.  I had big plans for college.  This would be my chance to embrace the lifestyle.  I envisioned philosophical discussions with my peers, and peaceful demonstrations and a sit-in or two on the lawn of the Dean.  I would be free to be a hippie and convene with like-minded folks.

Alas, a funny thing happened on my way to college.  By the time I got there, the original hippies were now young adults – they were doing things like getting married, having children, and realizing they had to figure out some way to make a living.  The war in Vietnam was over, and Nixon had left office.  And my peers?  No one seemed to want to discuss the bigger issues of the day while at the frat party.  Again, not surprising.  I don't think any of them ever listened to Woody Guthrie.

So, sadly, I saw my dream of being a hippie slip away.  The closest I got was when I attended Grateful Dead concerts as an adult, spending a few hours once a year seeing how it could have been and realizing that the things you regret most in life are those things that you don’t do, not the things you do.

Oh, and I still have those embroidered bell-bottoms.

You'll Never Sing Alone

Mr. Rip and I had what we consider the perfect plans for the Fourth of July.

We were staying home. Out of the hustle and bustle of the crowds and the parades and the fireworks.   We were having homemade pork goulash and spaetzle for dinner.  You know, typical Fourth of July fare.

The day started out with Mr. Rip fondly reminiscing about playing Benjamin Franklin in 1776 at Robert Morris University’s Colonial Theatre a few years back.  He was the best Benjamin Franklin ever. He posted his pictures from the show on Facebook, where they joined photos and remembrances of many of his fellow 1776 castmates.

I was a little envious that I didn't have photos from a patriotic show to post, but then I remembered that I sang in Salute! a musical revue celebrating our nation's military put on by RMU's Summer Colonial Theatre.  In a masterful argument to our ever-patient and flexible director Barbara, I made a case for including “You’ll Never Walk Alone” as a fitting tribute to our service men and women, and I proposed that I be the one to sing it.  Barbara saw the wisdom of my suggestion, or maybe she humored me.  Whatever, I have a photo of me wearing my favorite red dress while singing the song standing on a red, white and blue platform.  Perfect for a Fourth of July FB profile picture!

The evening brought our favorite part of celebrating the Fourth – watching the broadcast of A Capitol Fourth, the big concert at the Capitol, hosted by Tom Bergeron and culminating in a fireworks display.  We could join in the holiday fun from the comfort of our couch, moving only to refresh our drinks.

Tom kicked off the concert by introducing John Williams who was going to premiere his new cutting-edge arrangement of The Star Spangled Banner.  Uh, oh, I thought, I hope this isn't as badly received as Jimi Hendrix’s stunning instrumental guitar version that still give me chills every time I hear it.  I needn't have worried because it just sounded like The Star Spangled Banner.

 

I was relieved to see Kelli O’Hara seeming so healthy and happy as she shone singing a medley of patriotic songs in her glorious legit soprano voice.  See, I read this article that said she was absolutely devastated and disheartened that her show The Bridges of Madison County closed.  They said that Kelli would have done better if she had been born in another time, and lamented that the she had never won a Tony.  All I've got to say is “Cry me a river.”  She is a busy working actress and singer with five Tony nominations and she is only in her 30’s.  She’s already got her next show lined up.  I think she’ll be okay.

There was a parade of diverse, eclectic performers who mostly sang their own songs.  What, these professionals couldn't learn a nice version of “Yankee Doodle Dandy” to sing for the occasion? When Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons came out and belted out Grease is the Word,  You’re Just Too Good to be True (*SIGH*) and Just Hang On, I forgave him the non-patriotic songs because he is a National Treasure who has still got every bit of his vocal quality and charisma at the age of 70. 

Then came the tribute to the veterans who were wounded in the war.  Out trots American Idol Jordan Sparks in a red dress to sing “You’ll Never Walk Alone” to those who were in the audience.  Wait one little minute here!  That sounds pretty familiar, doesn't it?  Who did it first?  Was she in the audience at Massey Theatre when I performed it during Salute?  I’m not being judgmental or anything but she went flat on a couple of notes.  Mr. Rip assured me that I sang it better, but then added “of course a cat if you stepped on its tail would sound better than that,” so I wasn't too flattered. 

  

Patti LaBelle entertained us for a lot of reasons when she came out to sing Over the Rainbow looking more like the Witch than Dorothy.  She was dressed all in black with an enormous overcoat that she tripped over as she took the stage to sing a very different version of “Over the Rainbow” that I don’t know if I liked.  It was full of what Mr. Rip describes as melisma (the act of singing one syllable of text sung over several notes).  I am not one of these people that think that there can never be a successful reinterpretation of an iconic song, but Patti was no Israel “Iz” Kamakawiwo’ole (the Hawaiian guy who did it with the ukulele).

Throughout the evening the Choral Arts Society of America Chorus was rocking it– singing back up to the stars, clapping and swaying, but they still didn't sound as good as the Pittsburgh Concert Chorale when we sing The Star Spangled Banner at a Pirates game.

LOTS of Room on The View

Did you hear the news?  Both Sherri Shepard and Jenny McCarthy are leaving The View.

Shepard has been on the show for seven years, and her naiveté was alright when she was surrounded by intelligent women like Whoopi Goldberg, Joy Behar, Barbara Walters and yes, even Elizabeth Hasselbeck (who was definitely not stupid).  Sherri’s clueless bubble-headed uninformed opinions provided a refreshing counterpoint to the heavy discourse taking place all around her.

It all went to hell in a hand basket when the producers chose Jenny McCarthy to replace both Joy Behar and Elizabeth Hasselbeck when they left the show last year.  Why they thought this was a good idea was beyond me.  I knew it was a bad idea.  I could have told them it was a bad idea.  Come to think of it, I DID tell them it was a bad idea. (http://ripachesallover.blogspot.com/2013/07/jenny-who-on-view.html).  

What were they thinking, I wondered.  I tried to help them.  I even selflessly offered to become a panelist myself (http://ripachesallover.blogspot.com/2013/06/room-on-view.html), and trust me I would have been better than Jenny McCarthy.  

I tried to watch after Jenny joined the panel, but it was useless.  Jenny and Sherri fed each other’s senselessness, and Whoopi was now the lone voice of reason in this sea of inane banter.  Sadly, after many years of faithful Viewing, I tuned out.  I realized that no one cared if I watched, because my buying power means absolutely nothing to advertisers because of my age. I was bitter.

Sherri announced her departure first, saying she was choosing to leave but still being gracious about her time on the show. Then Jenny tweeted " If Sherri goes I go too. #sisters..." AS IF she was leaving in some sort of female solidarity with her BFF Sherri.  Sorry, but I don’t buy that leaving the show was Jenny’s idea.  #jennyisoutoftouchwithreality

Oh, powers-that-be at The View, this is your chance to redeem yourselves. Do not resort to bringing back Rosie O'Donnell, the least successful panelist before Jenny, as it is rumored you may.  There are so many interesting, intelligent, thoughtful, funny women who can talk about anything from politics to fashion out there who would be spirited but not divisive additions to the panel.  See if Alli Wentworth is still available and go from there.

Meanwhile, Whoopi is the last woman standing on The View, and as fabulous as she is, she can’t do the show by herself…..or can she?  Whoopi came to fame in an original one-woman show on Broadway, in which she brilliantly played five characters, including Fontaine, Surfer Chick, The Cripple, Little Girl and Jamaican Woman.  All she would have to do is slip into her different characters and argue Hot Topics with herself.  Now, I’d tune in again to see that.  After, any one of the characters would have to be better than Jenny.

Don't Drink the Water

The other day my friend Carl asked his theater friends on Facebook to share the favorite props they’ve ever used in a show.

Ah, props.  My relationship with stage props is, well, complicated. All is copacetic when they are where they need to be and they work the way they are supposed to work.

 

My favorite props are ones that actually gave me something logical to do with my hands onstage. 
The tray I used as the Waitress in Working and my peacock feather fans that I used as Reverend Mother in Nunsense actually assisted this quintessential klutz (me) in performing big song-and dance numbers.  I was also extraordinarily fond of the teddy bear that I held on my lap the entire time I was playing Mrs. Savage in The Curious Savage- you have no idea how comforting it is to hold a teddy bear when you’re out there in front of all those people.  I wish all my characters could have had teddy bears.

In The Music Man, my character of Mrs. Paroo was supposed to knit.  I couldn’t knit.  While I had already taught myself to passably fake a thick Irish brogue for the part, it seemed unlikely that I could teach myself to knit.  Enter The Talented Mr. Rip who does knit and crochet (like a pro), and taught me a couple of stitches to use in the show to give Mrs. Paroo something to do while Marian sang.

Imaginary props can pose their own challenges, as I found out when I was cast as Mrs. Webb in Our Town, where the women pantomime cooking meals and tending to their families using invisible equipment with which I was unfamiliar.  “Mrs. Gibbs” and I took a field trip to the Heinz History Center to look at the kitchens of the time period of the play, and our ever-patient, saintly director gave us a tutorial on how to pretend to snap beans.

Sometimes, though, props can go horribly wrong.  I will never forget the moment in my VERY FIRST play when the phone I was supposed to answer did not ring.  I waited for a moment until I heard the stage manager off stage frantically whispering “RING, RING!!…RING, RING!!”  Brightly, I pronounced “Oh, there’s the phone!” and then proceeded to answer the silent phone.

By far, my worst prop mishap was when the character I played in an interesting, seldom-produced farce called Cheating Cheaters was a closet drinker who hid her booze in places like vases and watering cans and took swigs from them when no one else was around.  On the first performance of the second weekend of the show I grabbed the watering can at the appropriate time and took a huge swig of water that was…actually fermented.  The stage manager/theater director had not changed the water from the week before so the water I just drank had been sitting there in the hot barn for seven days.

Now it was my turn for some quick thinking because I had to drink from the same watering can later in the show.  I carried the can offstage with me when I exited, cleaned it out and filled it with some fresh water, all the while listening to the stage manager kvetch about how it was my own damn fault for not checking my props.  For the record, I did check that the watering can was where it needed to be.  I had not thought to check the water because I had trusted the stage manager to have freshened it as she had between every performance the prior weekend.  And people wonder why I have trust issues.

My plan was to put the can back on stage during intermission.  I was pretty smug and self-satisfied with my own presence of mind until I was back on stage and I realized that I would need the watering can before intermission and also before my character left the stage again.

I was thinking hard in between remembering my lines on stage, which was exhausting, but then inspiration hit.  I was going to have my character remember that she left her watering can in the “kitchen” just offstage, rush off to get it and bring it back onstage and take a big swig.  I did just that and it got a huge laugh from the audience.

It was one of my finest onstage “saves,” but I sure could have used that teddy bear to hold for the rest of that play.

Everybody Wants to Be From Pittsburgh

I was aware that Pittsburgh enjoys celebrating the accomplishments of its sons and daughters so much that it eagerly seeks out their most tenuous connection to the Pittsburgh area.  However, it was only after publishing my blog on the subject (http://ripachesallover.blogspot.com/2014/06/six-degrees-of-pittsburgh-connection.html) last week that I realized how many people want to claim some “Burger Cred” (as my friend Ron calls it) for themselves.

Of course I already know how popular Pittsburgh can be as a weekend destination.  I happened to have a haircut appointment in downtown Pittsburgh this past Saturday, a sunny, breezy day with temperatures in the 70’s when the Three Rivers Arts Festival and a Pirates home game were happening at the same time.  The Pirates Game was a sell-out and LITERALLY thousands of people woke up that morning and said, “Hey, it's such a nice day – let’s go to the Three Rivers Arts Festival!”  I don’t know the actual statistics but I do know that I've been in smaller crowds in Times Square on the day after Thanksgiving.

A number of Friends expressed their Pittsburgh Pride at being first degree Pittsburghers (i.e. born and raised), even those who are now living in far-flung places like Florida and the Philippines . Yes, no matter how far you roam, Ron and Mary, you can still call Pittsburgh home.

It was still a surprise that some of the people who read my blog very much wanted a connection to Pittsburgh.  My friend Barry asked if living in Morgantown or other northern points in West Virginia counted as having a Pittsburgh connection.  Sadly, I had to break it to him that no one in West Virginia can claim to be from Pittsburgh.  In fact, most West Virginians I've known do not seek nor would accept such a designation.  Even Pittsburgh reporters don’t claim West Virginians for Pittsburgh.

My friend Dan feels that any fan of the Pittsburgh Steelers should get to be an honorary Pittsburgher, but I am afraid we really have to draw the line there.  Choosing to root for a city’s football team does not a citizen make, and besides there is more to Pittsburgh than just the Steelers.  Right?  The Pirates or Penguins, you say?  What about our non-sports related accomplishments, people?  Pittsburgh boasts ground-breaking accomplishments in the fields of robotics and transplantation, the largest museum devoted to a single artist and the most bridges of any city in the nation, and a thriving cultural scene, to name just a few.  And no, if you visit the city to enjoy any of these, it does not make you a Pittsburgher (unless of course you move here).

Six Degrees of Pittsburgh Connection

It is comforting to be a Pittsburgher because Pittsburgh is like a proud and partial parent.  They will celebrate you and all your accomplishments as if they were their own and herald your connection to Pittsburgh to the world at even the slightest provocation.

In fact, Pittsburgh and its reporters are ever vigilant in finding that Pittsburgh connection of celebrities.  Whole articles have been written about it. 

I enjoy that Pittsburgh is so supportive of its native sons and daughters, and appreciate that they welcome them back to town and support them so rigorously.  We are not very discriminating about the Pittsburgh-connected celebs that we celebrate – we embrace the criminals and reality show contestant winners along with the award-winning actors, authors and musicians.

However, I think it is time that we face the fact here that local reporters have perhaps become a little overzealous in seeking the Pittsburgh connection of famous folks.  For instance, a recent article jumped the shark of finding celebrity connections to Pittsburgh when they said that Mickey Dolenz (of The Monkees) has a Pittsburgh connection because as a 10-year-old child star his first concert was at Kennywood.  No.  I am very sorry, but performing in Pittsburgh does not a “Pittsburgh connection” make.

In an effort to stop the madness, I thought I would develop a helpful primer on degrees of Pittsburgh connection to act as a guideline for those dogged pursuers of celebrity Pittsburgh connections:

1)      Born, raised or spent part of their formative years in the 10-county Pittsburgh region (i.e. Allegheny, Armstrong, Beaver, Butler, Fayette, Greene, Indiana, Lawrence, Washington or Westmoreland County).  A PITTSBURGH CONNECTION!

This is the most pure Pittsburgh connection that there is.  Many bona-fide celebrities fall into this category.  August Wilson, Andy Warhol, Lenora Nemetz, Jeff Goldblum, Michael Keaton (who introduced the word “jagoff” to a national audience on The David Letterman Show)  and recent Tony award winners Christian Borle and Billy Porter (both of whom thanked Pittsburgh in their acceptance speeches) all qualify. 

Perhaps the best Pittsburgh celebrity in this category is the one-and-only Fred Rogers, a Latrobe native who made his fame as beloved and revered child television host, Mr. Rogers.   He achieved his national celebrity while remaining in Pittsburgh.  He is a local hero.

2)      Lived here as an adult. – ALSO A PITTSBURGH CONNECTION

While few seek Pittsburgh as a life destination independent of some precipitating event (“I think I want to live in Pittsburgh, so I’ll move there and then find a job”), many attend school here or find a job that brings them here and then “get their foot stuck in the door” and stay around.  Pittsburgh, for all its quirkiness, has an off-beat charm that just sometimes grows on newcomers. So, yes, if a celebrity lived here for a time as an adult, it counts. 

3)      Attended a secondary educational institution in Pittsburgh, then left. KIND OF COUNTS AS A TENUOUS PITTSBURGH CONNECTION.

Okay, so they attended college, maybe Carnegie Mellon’s drama program or Point Park’s performing arts program, in Pittsburgh. They lived here, formed relationships, and ate at the O.  They might even come back now and then to visit old college pals or for an alumni event or to attend a football game.   Saying that they are a Pittsburgher is a bit of an overstatement, but identifying them as a “Carnegie Mellon graduate” is certainly acceptable.  However, when you cite a reality show contestant as having a Pittsburgh connection because they attended nursing school in New Castle, you have crossed the line.

4)      Had a relative who lived in Pittsburgh who they sometimes visited. NOT REALLY A PITTSBURGH CONNECTION

Visiting Grandma or Aunt Mary or cousin Nettie who lived in Highland Park for the holidays or even a week in the summer does not count as having a Pittsburgh connection.

5)      Visited while on tour, filmed a movie here, or stopped in town to see the Andy Warhol Museum. NOT A PITTSBURGH CONNECTION.

I have visited Niagara Falls 6 times, and no one has ever accused me of having a Niagara Falls connection or having a dual-citizenship with Canada.  Visitors do not count!

6)      Rode a bus through town, changed flights at Pittsburgh International Airport, or drove past the Pittsburgh exit of the Turnpike. -  DON’T EVEN TRY IT.