A Challenging Play for MMT

Moving "The Cake" from Mill Mountain Theatre's alternative stage to the main stage was a really good idea, even though it was made necessary by Covid fears. This Beka Brunstetter play kicked off MMT's Friends of the Fringe series for this year and the main stage let it breathe, allowed its 90 minutes of tragi-comedy to sink in and allowed us to feel it.

This is an extraordinarily worthwhile play that might not get the audience it deserves in a smaller, more limited venue. "The Cake" echoes a theme that we all know: a lesbian couple asks a bake-shop owner (an old friend of the family, in this case) to make a special cake for the couple's wedding, which is getting closer fast. Della, the owner of Della's Sweets, is an unquestioning right-wing Christian who is strictly opposed to rights for the non-traditional. 

That one of the brides is a long-time family friend causes Della to think hard and long on her position and also has her re-thinking other accepted norms of her religious traditions. 

This story is based in Winston-Salem, N.C., instead of Colorado where the famous case six years ago actually occurred (and went to the Supreme Court). The young women who want to marry travel to Winston because one grew up there. Of course, her betrothed, who is from New York, finds culture shock in the South. A lot of soul-searching for everybody follows.

The cast is quite good here and includes three MMT veterans, Amy Baldwin (who shone as Della, owner of the bakery; her Southern accent was spot-on), Cherise James and J. Richey Nash and MMT newcomer Merrill Peiffer. MMT newcomer Kerrie Seymour delicately directs this sometimes laugh-out-loud funny, sometimes verbally vulgar offering that will stick with you. 

If strong language, sexuality and Christianity in a less than a  reverential treatment offends you, by all means skip this one ... unless you want to open your mind for a bit.

It is a good play, which runs through March 6. Tickets are available at 540-342-5740.

Mid-Winter at Roaring Run

 It was colder than a well-digger's butt up on Roaring Run in Botetourt County, VA, today, but the hike was revitalizing, lovely and challenging (from a photographer's vantage). I got some decent photos and here they are. Tell me what you think. 

'She Loves Me' One of Showtimers' Best Ever

The only regret I have today in recommending "She Loves Me," Showtimers' newest production, is that today was the last day.

This was the best play I've seen at Showtimers, maybe ever, but certainly recently. It was as professional as community theatre gets and the singing voices were so professional that kept asking, "Where in the hell did they come from?" It appears most of them came from here.

The best of them, in fact, is an employee of a theatrical competitor: Brynn Scozzari, who plays the female lead, is the Director of Education at the Virginia Theatre and she sings like an angelic operetta performer.

"She Loves Me," in fact, played more like Gilbert and Sullivan than Showtimers, a light opera as opposed to amateur theater.

June Ostdiek and Aaron Sifford showed voices to die for and the rest of the majors in a big cast all had their good moments. (Let me mention that Ms. Ostdiek provided one of the best comedic moments in a funny play accidentally. During a dance, she hit the floor hard but bounced up laughing and didn't get the laugh under control for nearly two minutes, finally resorting to stooping behind a podium while she shook with laughter. It was a riot.)

"She Loves Me" is basically a soap opera about the employees of a Hungarian perfume store in the 1930s. This version was directed by the talented Roanoker Stevie Holcomb, who recently was Bella Abzug in Showtimers' one-woman production. Her touch with "She Loves Me" was marvelous and she had a lot of help the support crew, especially costume designer Sherilyn Lawson who, as Stevie said before the show "designed and sewed every stitch" on stage.

It was all done well from designing the sets to building them, lighting the production and producing excellent sound. 

The show is based on a play by Miklos Laszle and was directed on Broadway by Harold Prince.

I shot these about 15 years ago. George always had a great face.

George Kegley: A Loss We Can't Afford

The death Monday of George Kegley will be felt strongly all over Western Virginia because George, who was in his 90s, may well have been the most valuable citizen of this region for the past 50 years.

He was a journalist, a historian, an extraordinary blood donor, a mentor, a friend to thousands who treasured the life he lived. Many of us thought--hoped--he would never die because we couldn't afford to lose him. For years, I greeted George with, "Damn, George, aren't you dead yet?" and he'd chuckle, which is about as close to a belly laugh as I ever saw.

For the 10 years that I worked for The Roanoke Times, George (a news reporter for 42 years) was a quiet, respected recorder of business news. A managing editor once told me George was "the king of the 12-inch news story. He has at least one every day." Nobody scooped George on business news, but he never made a big deal out of his exclusives because that was George's way. 

George was married to Louise for nearly 60 years. She was a reporter, historian and granddaughter of long-time Times owner Junius Blair Fishburn. She died four years ago.

George never bragged, never looked to be in the light, always sought the participation and opinion of others, always had the messiest desk in Western civilization. He was famous in newspaper circles for that.

I'm not sure he ever even entered the journalism competitions that many cherished. My guess is that George thought that if he felt he was doing a good job, the Press Association didn't need to tell him about it.

On the flip side of that, he nominated me for the Virginia Communications Hall of Fame and I was approved unanimously. I will always be grateful to George for that consideration, though I have never thought I deserved it. That he thought so is as important to me as the unanimous vote the nomination received.

George won major awards for preservation, conservation/environmentalism, being a father (Father of the Year), being a citizen (Roanoke Citizen of the Year). He frequently read for the deaf on Public Radio's reading service. He was always modest, and always had an acceptance speech that almost nobody could hear because he was so soft-spoken.

George was personally responsible for salvaging much of Roanoke's physical history. He was mortified when the glorious American Theatre was torn down in the early 1970s and helped put together the Preservation Foundation of Western Virginia to guard against that kind of historical abuse in the future. He didn't win all the battles, but he fought them. He found allies. The Foundation made developers aware of what they might be doing to our history and discouraged many of them.

George, a Wytheville native who lived in Roanoke's oldest home, was a beloved man, a good man, a man of honesty, integrity, grit, strong belief and of kindness. George Kegley was a worthy man, one I loved and respected far beyond what he knew.

I was one of the fortunate ones to work with George and the entire group of writers/reporters at The Times and The World-News (I worked at both) during my tenure there, mostly in sports, from 1971 to 1981. People like Ozzie Osbourne, Ben Beagle, Mary Bland Armistead, Frank Hancock, Mike Ives, Chris Gladden, Margie Fisher, Buster Carico, Bill Brill and Sandra Kelly--among others--served as role models for this young, struggling journalist.

What Did You Say I Said? 

What I said: Sometimes your hair shines so pretty that it reminds me of the Breck shampoo ads of the 1960s."

What she heard: "Your hair is usually ugly."

Accepting a compliment with grace and humility is elegant. Rejecting a compliment discourages positive observations in the future. 

 

The old boy in his salt cave. 

A Little Salt, a Little Nap

My good buddy Susan and I did a little Valentine's celebration yesterday with a new experience for me: settling back in a salt cave.

Susan with a jar of salt.

It's not so much what it sounds like because in Roanoke, it's not in a cave. But there is a granular salt floor and walls of salt brick. A circulation system gently covers everything--including Susan and me--in salt vapor, which has healing effects and relaxes those of us inside. At least that's what it is supposed to do at Crystal Spring Healing Massage over in the Cave Spring section of Roanoke.

I'm a dude whose relax system has never been fully functional, so this was a challenge for the salt cave, but truth be told, Susan has always had a relaxing effect on me since I took one of her stretch classes when we first met. I often went to sleep at the end of the class when she talked the class through full-body relaxation. I fell asleep--albeit briefly--yesterday in the salt cave with all the influences (Susan, the lighting, the quiet sounds--which she called music and, I guess, the salt).

I don't feel much different than I usually do today, but I'm not certain I'm supposed to. The relaxing 45 minutes in the cave had the result of a successful afternoon nap and I can dig that, salt or no salt.

A Solution to Drunk Airplane Passengers

I posted the following on Facebook yesterday and wasn't surprised by the blowback, even from people I respect a lot:

"An industry-wide "no-fly list" for violent airline passengers is being considered and I, for one, hope it becomes the law/rule/standard.

"I would suggest that drinking onboard significantly adds to the probability of bad behavior. Southwest Airlines has banned alcohol (during Covid), but now is considering serving it again. I hope it does not and that other airlines ban drinking onboard.

"It would also be a good idea to give suspected drunks breathalyzer tests before allowing them to fly drunk (drinking before boarding). They would also forfeit the cost of their tickets if they show up drunk. If that sounds harsh, you might consider whether you are having a problem with alcohol. If so, help is readily available."

Several people pointed out that not everybody is a drunk and that a drink or two relaxes them for the flight. I get that. I also get that a large airplane at 30,000 feet is not the safest place to have a drink. The pressurized cabin intensifies the effects of alcohol.

What I would like to see, after considerable thought, is the institution of zero tolerance for drunks or drug-addled people on flights. You drink or drug and get out of hand, you don't fly again. Ever. There would, of course, be a process for appeal, but reversal would be rare and deeply considered.

Those who have sat at the airport bar and poured down drinks before the flight would have to take a breathalyzer before the flight board and if they are legally drunk (1.8), they would lose their seat on the airplane and the money they spent for that seat. Drinks during flight would be limited to one.

In response to one of those replying to my suggestion, I wrote, "I think the difference between moderate drinkers and those of us who are addicted is important. I don't understand or identify with somebody who can easily drink one or two drinks and be satisfied with that. 

"Those of us who are addicted are the people who cause the trouble and estimates are that 12.7 percent of American adults are alcoholics, up 49 percent since 2000 (Washington Post). That compares to 5.6 percent of our citizens who are LBGT. Nine percent earn $100,000 a year (YouGov)."

As with wearing masks and getting vaccinations, moderate drinking--or none at all--during airline flights is not a big ask of anyone save those who are addicted. And like those Covid requirements, they are for the public good.

I, for one, don't want to get on board a commercial airplane with people who will make my flight more stressful than it already is and who will endanger the other passengers. Being sober seems to me to be a little to ask.