We'll be back... by Liz Flaherty

Taking the week--or maybe two--off from the Window. I'll be back either next Saturday or the one after that. 

Have a great week and be nice to somebody. 

Layers and Loss by Liz Flaherty

I have nothing good to say today. I'm discovering, even at this age, that it's the little things that get me; I seem to cope better with the big ones. But our 20-year-old cat, Gabe, has disappeared, frightened by stray dogs who won't be deterred. Signs have disappeared from our yard, too, leaving me resentful that people have the right to free speech urging others to f*** whomever they hate in the moment on signs and flags everywhere or fly swastikas from their flagpoles, but if we have candidates' names on signs that are on our own property, someone is frightened enough by them that they trespass in order to steal them. I am discouraged by these little things. I am angry. I miss our cat. I miss feeling at home in the community where I've spent my whole life.

Until this morning, I didn't remember feeling this way before, but when I was looking for something to repeat-post, I found this. I guess what goes around comes around, and here I am again. If you're in this place, too, I urge you to wallow in it for a while (like I am and did four years ago, too) and then get over it and go on. Have a good week. Be nice to somebody.

There's been a lot grief in 2020--we all know that. A lot of loss. But it's September now, with cool nights and breezes that sift into your hair and make you smell apples and leaves and bonfires.

It is, I know, a dying, decaying time as the earth prepares for winter, but the bean fields are golden, as are the corn tassels and some of the trees and the quick shimmer of the sun on the river. The colors that begin to emerge in September are bright and burnished and hopeful. 

There are golden sounds, too. Performers sharing their music both digitally and--where there's space--in person. The bleachers at junior high and high school football games. 

I should have finished writing this when I started it on Friday morning, but I didn't. I had other things I needed to do...and now Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg has died. For many of us, the colors have dimmed. Rest in power, Your Honor, and thank you. 

But this time of year is also about layers. On Tuesday I went to a meeting at ten in the morning, wearing my third shirt of the day. I started hopefully (and foolishly) in a tank top, changed to a sweatshirt, and by the time I went to the meeting, was in short sleeves--with a hoodie in the car because you just never know. Last night when we went to dinner, Duane wore shorts--and a golf sweater. 

School's back in session. Football's being played. But the layers are uneven these days, because caution changes things. Disagreement, almost the only constant in these change-of-season layers, makes the edges of the tiers rough-edged and sharp. 

I can't seem to come to a good place this morning, and I'm sorry. If you have good news, I hope you'll share it. 

Have a good week. I hope you see bright colors and find kindness in the layers. Stay safe. Be nice to somebody. 

Show Time with Ole Olsen Memorial Theater by Debby Myers

 “May you live as long as you laugh and laugh as long as you live!” - Ole Olsen

There’s something in the air! Although it’s still pretty warm outside, fall’s approaching with all its scents. Apples, cinnamon, bonfires, and hot chocolate come to mind. School is in session, and we’re all settling in. But wait!

Fall also brings the beginning of a new season of Ole Olsen Memorial Theater – and it happens to be our 60th anniversary! We were born in 1964. Our name came from Ole Olsen, born here in Peru. Ole became a Vaudeville star and made it his mission to make people laugh.

As the Publicity Director, when Liz, who is one of our biggest supporters, asked me to tell everyone about what’s coming up at Ole, I was glad to have this forum to tell you about it. We have three new shows never before done on our stage that we are excited about, along with an old favorite. And we’re planning to end the year with a party! Our 60th celebration is being planned for May of 2025, so stay tuned for more on that.

Our first show comes just before Halloween. Frankenstein – the Monster Play  puts a spin on what we all usually think of when we hear the word Frankenstein. Yes, there’s still a monster. But in this adaptation we experience how the monster feels being "born" into a strange new world. Seeing his transformation from his side, we understand why he becomes a monster, in every sense of the word, by the end of the show. So join us in the mansion of the Frankenstein family – we promise to let you out! The show is kid-friendly too, so come on out for fun night with Frankenstein – the Monster Play. It is being directed by Ole vet Bryan Bertoline and his assistant Chris Badami.

The play has been cast and is in production now. On stage you’ll see two first-time performers, Michelle Cota and Jen Marshall. Also two vets who’ve been out of the spotlight for a few years, Dan Brown and Joe Pyke. Plus Ole actors Autumn North, Patrick Sullivan, Debby Myers (yes, this is me – I’m playing Mrs. Frankenstein, the mother of the crazy scientist) Doug Working, Gloria Brumbaugh, Todd Riddle, and Cindy Ridenour. It opens with dinner theater on October 3rd. Performances October 4, 5, 11, 12 at 7:30 pm and October 6, 13 at 2 pm. As always, our productions are held at the historic Peru Depot.

The next show’s title may sound familiar, but it is on the stage for the first time. Last season we saw The Crimson Cap Ladies Bare It All, and the reviews last year were so great, we decided to do another one. The Crimson Cap Ladies Take on Vegas will keep you guessing as the ladies’ International Christmas Convention goes awry leading them on a search for a diamond thief. The four women are on another hilarious adventure that doesn’t turn out the way you or the ladies expect! It opens December 3rd. Director Debby Myers (yep, me again) says auditions will be held September 22 from 2-4 pm at the depot. The play has seven women and two men of any age. The roles are of all sizes. Always check Ole Olsen’s website and Facebook page for more! Or get in touch with me.

We are all excited about this season’s next offering, Happy Days – the Musical! It comes complete with Richie, Ralph-Malph, Marion, Howard, Joanie, Potsie, and the Fonz! It is filled with fun for all ages! Introduce your teens to the teens you loved to watch. Play opens on February 20th, 2025. It’s directed by Shanna Stoll

We’ll end the season with an oldie but goodie – Moon Over Buffalo. Last performed in 1998, this comedy will keep you giggling and guessing as we find out the fate of washed-up actors, George and Charlotte Hay. Stu Sullivan will direct, and the show opens April 24th, 2025.

Season tickets are on sale now for only $45 for all four shows! Broken down, it’s $11.25 per play, and you can’t beat that price for quality, local entertainment in the quaint setting of the Depot. Not a bad seat in the house, and you may even see a friend or two gracing the stage!

For your tickets go to www.oleolsen.org or call 765-142-3680. We also have several levels of club membership that offer voting privileges, banquet invitation, quarterly newsletters, and free tickets! We offer sponsorship opportunities for local businesses to appear in our show programs too!!!

There is something in the air! It’s the sounds of laughter coming from the theater – better join in!

Do Something by Liz Flaherty

Wednesday - This morning, when I came out to the office, my hands were full and I had no pockets. Why on earth would I have bought something with no pockets? But I carried everything out, looking at the tree in the east and marveling at the red streak of day's beginning. When I got into the office, I laid everything down and took off my sweater. The one I'd worn wrong side out and had two really nice pockets on the inside. Aside from feeling a little goofy, I was really glad I hadn't bought a sweater without pockets. And that, unlike me, the tree knew how to look its best so early in the day and even when it takes its sweater off soon, it will do it beautifully. Also unlike me.

Those were the last good thoughts of the day.

In Georgia today, yet another shooter cut loose in a school and killed four people and injured several more. He was 14 years old and he used a gun his father had given him.

It was suggested by a politician that "we have to get over it," by another that shootings are "a fact of life" and that “We don’t have to like the reality that we live in, but it is the reality we live in. We’ve got to deal with it.”

But we don't deal with it, do we? Since so many deep-pocketed lobbyists insist more stringent gun laws won't help, we tell them that's okay, because the money in their pockets and the guns they carry matter more than the kids who are in our schools, our homes, our hearts. We suggest arming teachers instead of disarming madmen. Because teachers don't have enough to do, after all.

Sure. Makes sense. Thoughts, prayers, and deep, bitter anger are with the families of those lost in Winder, Georgia this week. The most fervent of my prayers are that maybe this time, something will be done. 

Thursday - It was a good day. Great time with a great friend. Good lunch. Writing. Reading. My favorite kinds of things.

Friday - I wrote a lot today, made a lot of progress on book #22 (or so.) It begins to feel right as the words slip out of the keyboard, as my fingers seem to move on their own over the keys. It is a good writing day, a good thinking day.

Two teachers died in the shooting, one of them a father, the other a woman who couldn't have biological kids but who loved the ones she taught. Two students who had a lot more to do in their lives than worry about book #22.

My grandson played soccer for his school this week. Our school won their football game tonight. Did the people on the bleachers look from side-to-side? Did the parents of players and cheerleaders watch the sidelines for someone who didn't look right? Someone who might do harm to their very reasons for living?

How could I have had a good writing day when people in Georgia are preparing to bury their children? Guilt is a noisy companion. I don't sleep much. I don't sleep well. I have thoughts and prayers far into the night.

They're not enough. Not nearly enough. We need to Do Something.

“We are so sure we know what freedom is in America that we cannot imagine a world in which true freedom might come after sacrifice of personal rights. Freedom is sending your kids to school with confidence that they will come home at the end of the day.” — Taylor Schumann, author of When Thoughts and Prayers Aren’t Enough

Saturday. -

Last year in March, I wrote this in part after dropping donuts off at school:

I don't know most of these kids' names, although I'm sure I know some of their parents and many of their grandparents. I don't know who's at the top of their class and who hasn't turned in any homework since kindergarten. I don't know, sitting in my car, whose language would scorch my ears and who never learned the value of please, thank you, or a dollar earned. I don't know who shops at boutiques and who combs the clearance racks and who depends on the kindness of strangers. I don't know who worries about being bullied, who bullies, and who doesn't give a damn either way. 

I don't know any of that and frankly, that morning in the school driveway and this morning as I write this, I don't care. I want them all to graduate, to run whatever bases their lives bring them, to walk the fields of whatever is their passion, and to have more adventures than their parents can bear worrying about. My prayer for them is always the same, and I cry with the fear of it not being answered.

Keep them safe. 

 Yes, that. Still.

There's nothing new here, is there. Just more of the devastating same. Sometimes I don't think I can stand it.

Not at all the post I thought I'd have today. I planned to continue on from the first paragraph in that same vein. Of silly slipups and laughter. Of lunch with a beloved friend, a meeting with other friends, a piece of Roberta Struck's apple pie, and supper one night at the B & K.

I did, indeed, have a good week. I hope you did, too. But I don't have it in me to celebrate today.

Be nice to somebody.