Skating at Headwaters Park and Shopping in Downtown Fort Wayne Before Christmas

I'll tell you about a wonderful December day I had. It was Saturday, the last one before this Christmas. Traditionally, that's a big shopping day. It became for us a small business Saturday in the Fort Wayne area.

We had breakfast at Brevin's in Churubusco. A vegetable omelette was the choice for me and oatmeal, eggs and toast for others. It was delicious, and my portion so large I had to box it for home. I told my family about seeing the therapy dogs (pictured above) in the hallway of Walb Union, during finals week at Purdue Fort Wayne. Volunteers bring them to greet students. We all caught up around the table.

Then we drove in to Fort Wayne and visited the Fort Wayne Museum of Art. They had different exhibits - one a series of paintings by artist Elly Tullis - interpretations of Marys or Madonnas. It was soft and colorful, and I liked it very much. We also saw some wonderful prints and woodcuts, the Dia de Los Muertos exhibit with its art and shrines, and a fascinating series of masks from Mexico. The ornate, whimsical, fantastical masks were identified and grouped by different Mexican regions. I think I need to go back and look at those again.

I bought a beautiful hand-cut card in the FWMA museum gift shop. I love that gift shop - toys, wool clothing, gorgeous jewelry, art, sculpture, decor and games. I recommend shopping in museum stores for gifts. So much is unique, high quality, and special.

Then we went to a boutique on West Wayne Street downtown: Creative Women of the World. We discovered this shop is a registered nonprofit organization, and donations are tax deductible. They purchase works to sell from women artisans in 50 countries. There are over 200 artisans working and benefiting. It's a 'handmade, fair trade' shop. We loved the beautiful, creative choices.

One person picked out a homemade journal bound with leather. Another shopper got a luxurious, elegantly shaped cowl-necked sweater. They had all types of jewelry, art and gifts. There's a group of these newer boutique shops in this block, and the Fort Wayne Artists Guild have a Holiday Pop-Up Gallery at the City Exchange Shops at 127 West Wayne. We walked through the pop-up as well, and admired the paintings displayed for sale.

Lastly on this day, we went to the ice skating rink at Headwaters Park. Under the canopy that's also used for Greekfest, Germanfest, etc. in the summer, Fort Wayne sets up its ice rink and offers skate rental. Admission was $5 for adults and less for kids. They also offer concessions- hot chocolate, hot dogs, the usual. You can bring your own skates or rent a pair for $3. This ended up being a lot of fun. Mid-day, the sun was shining, we were gliding along in a big oval - skaters of all levels were doing their thing. It's the range of people and kids hanging on the outside rail pulling themselves along, up to experienced skaters weaving and turning in the center, showing off their skills.

Canned music plays - old pop songs, etc. I don't know if they're streaming Spotify or what, but it's fun to groove to the songs while skating around. It feels relaxing and unplugged. Then, it's "everybody off the ice," and the Zamboni comes out and works its magic. It melts the marred ice and smooths it, and adds cold water to freeze and make the surfaces all even again. Everyone likes to watch the Zamboni, and all rest a little from their exercise.

Farewell to you - happy Hanukkah, Merry Christmas, and a happy Festivus for the rest of us! Celebrated annually on December 23, this sectarian, non-commercial holiday includes the Airing of Grievances, Festivus dinner, and is followed by the Feats of Strength. Seinfeld's Frank Costanza would be proud. Also, remember the angel said, 'Fear not'...'I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people"..

And then the multitude said...'on earth - peace, good will to men' or perhaps 'peace to men of good will.' Adios, amigos. Until next time.

Fort Wayne Summer Music Theatre Rocked West Side Story

I had a great experience last summer that I can't neglect mentioning. I was privileged to see high school students from all around the area put on a wonderful production of the musical West Side Story. I'm shortening the name of the theatre group in this article's title to FWSMT. Started by a couple of Fort Wayne high school teachers over 20 years ago, the organization is supported by student actors, educators, dancers, designers and technicians. Over 40,000 people have attended their performances over the last two decades.

The FWSMT helps students to grow by presenting stage productions on a larger scale than their high school ones. Currently, the company uses an eight-week intensive schedule that includes singing, acting, dancing, set construction, and stage combat. Adult mentors help train and educate students in every process so that productions are close to the professional level.

Director Andrew Sherman wrote in his notes that he was able to stress an underlying theme he thought often went unnoticed in this piece. "The idea," he said, "that as young children we are taught many things: to hate, to love, right from wrong, empathy for democratic differences. At what point in our lives do we choose to break that cycle and trust in our own beliefs?"

West Side Story, a gang tale of the Sharks versus the Jets set in early 1960's Manhattan, is a contemporary Romeo and Juliet spinoff. Music and lyrics by Bernstein and Sonheim, the original production was directed and choreographed by Jerome Robbins.

The summer's production was so diverse - area schools with cast and crew represented included those from area towns of Churubusco, Garrett, DeKalb county, Huntington, Fort Wayne private and public schools, and other Allen County schools. The talent was outstanding.

The first act is great, with a street gang dance and no singing or dialogue- just jazz music and dancing. The streets and bodegas of New York were represented, as were the back streets and chainlinked-fence basketball courts of New York City. The whole Act 1 is staged in what could be common street scenes in any town - back yards, a bridal shop, back alleys, drug stores, and neighborhood streets under the highway. But this is The Big Apple: rooftops, the concrete jungle.

The mix of Latin rhythms and American jazz makes the show special. Stars of the show, Aaron Hawley as Tony and Erica Ashley as Maria, were very well cast. Their voices were golden and their performances brilliant.

I also really enjoyed Evan Snaufer as Snowboy and Noah Pemberton as Gee-Tar. These two were local performers from Leo High School stepping out of a small-town comfort zone, and did really well. All these kids worked really hard.

The cast did a terrific job with the choreographed fight scenes, which were both very dance-inspired and physical. They covered every inch of the stage and tossed themselves off ledges and boxes. I particularly liked how humorous the number "Gee, Officer Krupke" was. The guys let out all the stops and didn't worry about 2019 political correctness. Sophomoric humor was in full adolescent bloom.

The show was supported by lots of hometown benefactors and the "Adopt an Actor" program, which was an outlet to help sell tickets to lots of friends and family of cast and crew. The Indiana Musical Theatre Foundation was new to me, but I was very impressed with its summer 2019 production. I urge you to check out any performance of theirs you can catch in the future. West Side Story and its captivating music was absolutely inspirational. West Side Story is just one of my all-time favorites.

When Someone Goes Out of Her Way to Help Another

I had plenty of time to prepare for the trip. I was organized. I had packed my clothes the night before. A couple of dresses, some shorts and shirts, three swimsuits, some sandals and dress shoes. Socks and underwear. Paperwork my mother had asked for, all in a suitcase.

Plus an under-the-seat carry-on with all the usual things: jewelery, toiletries, electronic gagets, reading materials. I had my phone, my purse, my e-ticket. I even had time to do some chores that Friday morning: I had swept walnuts off our back deck, had vacuumed, had done some laundry. I was on my way to visit my mother in Phoenix, flying out of Fort Wayne International Airport. I was ready to go. I made a couple of trips to the car, loading up my smaller carry-on and a hot cup of coffee.

It's an easy drive for me, skirting around Fort Wayne on Interstate 469. Not a lot of traffic lights, no really heavy traffic. The leaves are at the height of changing color right now. The maples are brilliant, as are the many burning bushes. Even the smaller redbud trees now have bright yellow leaves instead of the summer green. It's a crisp fall day, and after two plane rides I will see my smart, 94-year-old dear mother.

I listen to National Public Radio along the way: the news of the day is about US troops pulling out of Syria, abandoning the Kurds, and the invasion of the area by Turkish forces. I get to the airport and park in long term parking. Rates are fairly reasonable: $9 a day. Credit card, or economy parking would be even less - I think $8/daily. I gather my things to get out of my car. I pop the trunk to get my suitcase, and --

There is no suitcase. It takes me a minute to compute as I stare at the blank spot. I look in the back seat - no suitcase. I earlier have left the suitcase at the house.

I have my electronic ticket, my ID, my purse, credit cars and cash, but no change of clothes, no swimsuits or other shoes. So I could still get on my flight and buy items when I got there, but it would be expensive and time-consuming. Who can I call?

I start with my husband, who said he couldn't leave work and he's too far from the house anyway. I ask him who he can think of to help me. We come up with the idea of a neighbor gentleman, whom I call. No answer.

I scroll through my contacts. It needs to be someone close to the house because there isn't much time left. I try a friend, a parent of my child's friend. No answer. I do not want to give up until I've run out of options.

I think of a neighbor who is a volunteer fire fighter and RN. I haven't spoken to her recently, but I give it a shot. It's mid-day and many people are at work, but she answered my call.

I explain the situation without much hope on my part, and she almost immediately said "yes." It was her only day off work that week, she said. She agreed to jump in her car, go to my house, unlock the door with a keypad code, find the suitcase, load it into her car and drive it to the airport. It's about a thirty minute drive.

We hang up. I can't believe my good luck. I wonder if she'll make it on time. What a great friend - I'm so impressed. She just dropped what she was doing to help out a person who needed a big favor.

She made it to the airport in record time. I tried to give her $20 for gas, which she refused. She had made my day, and restored my faith in human nature. People can be so good. It's amazing. (I did take over a gift for her when I got back.) It was the least I could do after her last-minute save-the-day.

Fort Wayne Airport has the best TSA - they are friendly and helped expedite the trip through the bins, line and x-Ray machine. I was at the gate and ready to board my flight. And made my flight I did, suitcase and all. It was a great trip. Thanks again, friend - you went above and beyond. It makes me smile. I will never forget it.

High School Reunion Means Reconnection

I recently attended my fortieth-year high school graduation reunion. It was wonderful. I am from the high school class of 1979. I don't know what it is about this class, but we all seem to get along so well, and are so happy to be together. Even the people who don't really know each other still are very pleasant and friendly with each other, and realize they have a lot in common.

This reunion was planned for the high school homecoming weekend, which meant it began with a high school football game in early October. The class met at the high school game to watch. I'm not a huge high school football fan, but I'm sure it's nostalgic for the many former football players and cheerleaders, and band members in our class. My town has built a new, state-of-the-art high school, and a new football stadium as well. It was a chance for many of those who no longer live in the little town to come back and see it.

On Saturday, a former classmate had organized a tour of the new high school. This was extremely worthwhile. Mt. Vernon Township High School has a new, 73 million dollar state-of-the-art facility. The buildings were designed with all the security features needed at a high school in our current times. I was so impressed by all the hands-on learning opportunities - classrooms designed for kids who won't be going to traditional four-year colleges. The trades, welding, machine shops, audio and video technology, healthcare and nursing (I know that's a college degree), a pre-school attended by staff's children (for students to get child-care experience) - it was amazing.

It also had a beautiful, state-of-the-art theater, a great gymnasium, and cafeteria - somehow, all kids eat for free there, I believe I was told. I was so encouraged by what the school had to offer. I know a lot of people nostalgically miss the old buildings and old high school campus, but this generation will be much better off with these new opportunities.

Saturday night, we attended the main event in a ballroom at a local hotel. One classmate is a cake artist, and she created this amazing cake topped with an authentic letter-jacket, also made from delicious cake. I don't know how she does it. There was a cash bar and heavy hors d'oeuvres. Music entertainment consisted of song requests loaded into a laptop and played over a sound system through a music server. There was a spontaneous Congo line snaking around the dance floor to the song "Locomotion."

One thing I really enjoyed, was the gathering together of students who had attended the various community grade schools, for group photos with their elementary school classmates. The photo above is a group who all attended the same grade school. I don't know how many grade schools fed into our high school, but including the rural grade schools, I would guess around ten. I think it's neat these adults in their late fifties sat together for group photos with their elementary school buddies.

Another highlight was when our funny Master of Ceremonies, Rick, announced we were crowning our own Homecoming Queen of the reunion. It was a surprise for all. The reunion committee decided to recognize our wonderful Starla, who had done a ton of great work for this special weekend. So Starla was called up and got a crown, flowers and maybe a scepter or a sash (I can't remember). Then, I was so impressed - without missing a beat, Starla thanked everyone and announced she was sharing her title with others on the committee, and handed off her crown and flowers to the others! It was just so kind, sweet and cute. It makes me smile now.

Sunday morning meant a group breakfast, and people saying their goodbyes. There was a strange magic that happened at that reunion. Old boyfriends and girlfriends recognized each other and chatted as platonic friends about days gone by. Stories were told, and reminiscing overshadowed texting and scrolling on cellphones. Phone numbers were exchanged and connections were remade. I don't know when I've seen so many glowing smiles and happy faces. It was a sweet night to remember in Mt. Vernon, Illinois.

Carving Out Time

I'm feeling the need to find a few moments to slow down a little. This morning I'm sitting on my deck as the sun comes up, watching a cloud bank roll in from the west.

I hear the insects squeaking like violins in the weeds down by the water. I hear a bird call out to its companion, then I hear another bird call back. The soft sun rises ever higher in the sky, revealing itself to be the fireball it truly is.

I hear a train sweetly whistling in the distance. I hear cows calling lowly to each other, far away.

As the sun heats the air, it sends tiny puffs and gusts my way, cooling my face in the sudden new heat. On the other side of me, the wind drives the rain clouds closer, buffeting me gently as well, bits of gusts and breezes kissing me intermittently.

I'm not awakening with screen time, I'm not turning on the television, I'm not staring at my phone. I am centering myself. It will be a busy week, and that's ok. But now, I look at the long shadows cast by the rising sun, and I see a tall version of myself behind me, the folded patio umbrella as tall as a tree in silhouette.

Yesterday, as we sat quietly and talked, a small flock of wild turkeys calmly walked out of the trees and disappeared into the cattails in order to get a drink of water. They were of varying sizes, so it was hard to discern whether they were all from the same family or not. Clearly there were two adults, with their bluish bald heads, and three or four juveniles.

But there was one much smaller chick, doing just fine, holding its own with the group. Could it be some kind of runt from the same clutch, or is it really a much younger turkey with the flock? Perhaps one of the larger birds is another adult on its own, and this is her single chick. I can't say.

But, they happily grazed around, discretely watching for predators, casually picking bugs and grains out of the grass, and then walking around seemingly looking for a new path. They had come from the southeast, and at first it seemed they were going to try and walk around the lake to the northwest. It seemed as though the lead turkey started calculating and decided to take a chance. They would make better time to fly over the lake as a group, rather than walk through the grasses around it. They would be exposed doing so, and the leader would have to act quickly. He seemed to call to the group briefly, and then took off, his big body flapping hard - I'm amazed how strong they are and how fast they can fly for their size. One by one, the other turkeys launched into the air and flew out behind and around him.

To myself I thought, "Oh, the littlest one won't be able to fly yet, they'll have to figure it out and circle back for her and walk after all." But to my surprise, she could fly too, and with no hesitation, cruised right along behind them. Wow, even little turkeys can fly - who knew?

Good luck, little turkey, and Godspeed. Don't let the dogs, the raccoons, the coyotes, or the humans get you. I love you, little feathered dinosaurs. Please come back and see me sometime soon.

There Was a Time

There was a time before Twitter, hash tags and snap chat. There was a time before a college girl would walk up to my barista station while face timing and talking loudly on her phone right in the middle of trying to order, as she acted as though I was interrupting her. As I patiently waited through her going back to her conversation, back and forth, as I waited to take her order and serve her.

There was a time before every college student had his or her phone out, scrolling through it, eyes down, as s/he walked through campus. There was a time before everyone had ear buds in, and now wireless ear buds sticking out of their ears.

There was a time before I secretly cringed as a student walked up to me, and I prayed he wouldn't order the frappuccino with all the syrups and sugars, while also ordering a chocolate chunk muffin to be washed down by it into his belly. I prayed he wouldn't try to give himself diabetes. But he ordered it anyway, over and over again.

Long ago, there was a time my parents held me in their arms when I was a tiny baby. I don't remember this, but I know they did. When I can't sleep, I like to imagine this. I see my father with his blue eyes and dark, neatly combed hair, cradling me in his arms as he held me, folding me in with all his love, protecting me. My father died too young, but bravely, doing what he loved. It broke my heart. It was a time in my life when I lived far away from him, overwhelmed with caring for my three young children, one of them quite disabled. Things are better now, but I was quite home bound and exhausted at that time. I wasn't able to immediately fly out to see him at the end. My father was my hero, and that loss changed me in profound ways.

I also imagine and remember my patient mother holding me, the warmth of her lap and arms comforting me as she rocked me. She with her strong faith, her quietness, her groundedness, I looking up at her face as she looked out, calmly. Always there for me, always thinking of the rest of us, intelligently keeping us safe and well, partly with the good medical advice she had gleaned from doctor visits and a lifetime of experience. She didn't feel the need to run around with flocks of women - she did have good friends, though, and loved quietly reading at home, reading classics, fiction, and the bible, providing the love in our nest.

There was a time before skateboarders rode their boards and hover boards clandestinely but openly down the school hallways, as if they were better than the rest of us and didn't have to follow the rules. There was a time when the family came home to eat dinner together. A time when everything we didn't eat wasn't thrown in dumpsters and landfills.

I remember a time before giant storms wrecked the Bahamas, Florida, the Carolinas, the Texas coasts, and then turned around and hammered it all again. Before offshore oil rigs exploded and leaked toxic fossil products into the ocean for weeks. A time when our oceans and beaches were not chock-full of plastics and other garbage.

There was a time before giant wildfires raged in California, in Canada, in the Amazon rain forests, in Alaska and Siberia. Before person after person wielded firearms and with one squeeze of a little trigger cut down dozens of people in schools, shopping malls and movie theaters. There was a time before people hijacked airplanes and committed suicide and homicide by flying the planes into giant skyscrapers, causing the buildings to crumple as if they were card houses, killing thousands.

There used to be many more than just two northern white rhinos left in the wild. Will the subspecies be able to survive from the embryos scientists created through IVF? I think it's doubtful.

There was a time before people injected their faces with Botox and fillers, before we were fascinated with "Housewives" and Kardashian/Jenners rather than our own friends and neighbors. Before we felt panicked when we were without our phone chargers and fitness trackers and GPS devices to find our way.

Today is Friday the 13th. It feels like Friday the 13th. It feels like the Groundhog Day Friday the 13th of history. The foreboding of a downfall. The signs are clear. We are warned. The warnings are screaming at us. Are we listening? But -- there is always hope. Humans can be great, they can be astonishing, and they can be terrible. We have free will. We have choice. Are we going to be great, or are we going to be terrible? Let us choose, boldly choose, to be great. Let us have hope. Now and forevermore, amen.

Melissa Etheridge Showed the Crowd at the Clyde How to Get Her Done

I think of Bruce Springsteen when I hear Melissa Etheridge. She's an original rocker who can belt it out, and charm the crowd with her swagger. She owns the room. Her emotion, her passion, her presence - she is so great, what a privilege to see her up close and in person.

The Clyde Theatre, a renovated movie theatre on Bluffton Road in Fort Wayne, is an exciting newer venue in the area. On the south side of downtown and right by Foster Park, an architect named A. M. Strauss drew plans for Quimby Village and the Clyde Theatre in 1949. The 1780-seat theatre drew people from the Indiana-Ohio regions when it opened in 1951.

Chuck and Lisa Surack from Sweetwater industries, along with other area partners, renovated the venue beginning in 2017, classily preserving most of the original Art Deco design of the spaces. There's a second-floor VIP gallery, a 7000 square foot artists dressing room and hospitality wing, and space for weddings and other public bookings for events.

Melissa's songs "I'm the Only One" and "Come to my Window" had the crowd on their feet and belting out every word. Melissa has a big backing by the LGBTQ+ community, but her fan base is bigger than that - there were people of all ages, straight or gay, in attendance. Her appeal is mainstream as well as off stream, broad with a wide audience.

Born in 1961, Melissa released her first album in 1988, and the single "Bring me Some Water" from it earned her a Grammy nomination for Best Female Rock Vocal Performance. In 1993, she won her first Grammy for the song "Ain't it Heavy." She received a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame in 2011. For years she has been a noted advocate for LGBTQ+ rights.

In October 2004, Etheridge was diagnosed with breast cancer, and underwent surgery and chemotherapy. Bald from chemo, Melissa came out for the 2005 Grammy's and performed Janis Joplin's "Piece of my Heart" as a tribute. This performance has since been considered iconic, and has been highly lauded, commented and tweeted about.

Her current tour, entitled The Medicine Show, supports the release of her 15th studio record of the same name. She's crossing the country to play in cities such as New York, Bonita Springs, New Orleans, Des Moines, and Chandler, AZ.

The Clyde has two onsite bars for concert patrons - one inside the concert hall so you don't miss a note, and one in the lobby, where you can have a conversation and take a breather if need be. It's just the right size - very fan friendly. I have had friends raving about seeing great traveling acts there, and I finally made it to see for myself. We are so fortunate to have such great music spots in the Fort! I can't wait to go back! Peace and love to you all. See you at Sweetwater, at the Embassy, at the Foellinger, at Memorial Coliseum, at the Clyde - or maybe, just see you at the movies.