By PMC Member, Renn Sminkey

Last night I attended the DCPA’s Guthrie Theater production of Little House on the Prairie – The Musical.  Little House on the Prairie, the musical is a modern twist on Laura Ingalls classic story about growing up on the frontier in the 1800’s.  The musical takes key elements from Laura’s life and wraps them together in a lively progression of scenes that keeps the audience captivated throughout the show.  Sometimes comic and sometimes serious the acts unfold in a magical series of events that bring you a perspective of life that is all but lost in the modern world.

The main characters in this story are Laura Ingalls (Kara Lindsay), her friend Nelly Oleson (Kate Loprest), and Almazzo Wilder (Kevin Massey).  Ma is played by Melissa Gilbert from the original Little House TV serious and Pa by Steve Blanchard.  The director (Francesca Zambello) took very few props to transport the characters into a very believable frontier experience.  There were amazing solos by Kate Loprest especially in her scene “without an enemy” and Kara Lindsay’s scene “restless heart”.  Melisa Gilbert’s solo scene “wild child” was heart touching and full of feeling for the original character she played in the TV series.  The one unseen masterpiece of this show is the Orchestra which matched scene for scene perfect timing and brilliantly clear music.

In closing Little House on the Prairie is a lively musical event I would recommend to warm up your heart on cold winter’s evening in Denver. www.dcpa.org

“I’m headed out to the build,” I hollered to my family as I ran out the door Thursday morning. The last time I heard that line, it was uttered by a serial killer on the Showtime television series Dexter. You don’t want to know what ends up in the “Trinity Killer’s” concrete. I felt perfectly safe since the concrete portion of this job looked to be complete, and the most prevalent material was the “blue stuff” making up the still-in-progress walls.

I had a hard time finding the place I was looking for—a home lot where cast members of the musical Little House on the Prairie, playing now at ASU Gammage as part of the 2009/2010 Broadway Across America series, were assisting Habitat for Humanity folks with building a home for a Phoenix family. But as I drove by the site, windows down, and radio blasting a South Pacific tune—someone recognized me.

I walked up to the build, past a chain link fence with a sign that read “Lot #16”—and indicated that its sponsor is Bank of America. Every build on the block had a similar sign, but with its own lot number and sponsor. Other sponsors included the Desert Schools Federal Credit Union, the University of Phoenix, UPS Freight and more.

I mention this because I always make time to review the sponsors listed in programs for the performances I attend. I wonder if they know how much I appreciate their support for the arts, that I go out of my way to give them business, that I wish I’d followed through more often on my plans to send a thank you note or make a thank you call.

I didn’t get to see Melissa Gilbert, who plays the role of Ma in the musical, in her hardhat—but I did get to don one of my own. It brought back memories of the construction of Phoenix Children’s Hospital and the Children’s Museum of Phoenix. I’ll bet they have plenty of “blue stuff” in their walls too.

My own “ma”—among others—might be mystified by my lack of finesse for naming building materials. Not to worry, I am able to fathom more than the color when choosing a new car—something that happens every few years during the holiday season when I manage to kill a vehicle racing from rehearsals and shows to recitals and volunteer gigs.

My mother was a nurse, an R.N., who earned a master’s degree in public administration while raising me single-handedly in Colorado, Alaska, Hawaii and California. She developed substance abuse treatment programs for native populations in northern Alaska. I was always so impressed to see pictures of her in her heavy parka with a fur-rimmed hood about to board one of those tiny planes that land and take-off from the water.

My mom knew her way around a tool box and a great deal more, flipping houses for extra income before anyone thought of divine designing or trading spaces. When she was younger, she once told me, women just didn’t go into construction. Her parents would have been mortified.

So she learned to be content with her garage workshop filled with the finest in hand and power tools. You never had to wonder what kind of gift certificate to get for my mom’s birthday. And I never had to go far to explore a variety of visual arts forms. Our garage was project central for weaving rugs, making sterling and turquoise jewelry and more.

Maybe that’s where I first felt the power of the arts to connect people, to bridge distances and to expand my horizons. I discovered that the arts are fun and fulfilling. And I got a glimpse of the person behind my mom, a privilege too few children enjoy before losing a loved one.

The Habitat for Humanity build was a giant canvas of hammers, levels and saws. Despite my mother’s attempts to teach me her craft, I’ve never been gifted in this area. I didn’t really feel at home on the site until I saw a roll of chicken wire. Aha, I thought, this is something I know how to use—for gardening, and for constructing the innards of some theater set pieces.

On this crisp and sunny Phoenix morning, Habitat for Humanity staff and volunteers were joined by touring Broadway cast members—a cause they have supported in other cities as well. You have only to learn of Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS, the wildly successful industry-based non-profit that does AIDS fundraising and grant-making, to know that theater folk have long loved a good cause.

But love is never enough. Action must follow—as it did at today’s Little House build. But why the Habitat for Humanity project, with so many worthy causes in our Valley of the Sun? Because, shares the cast, home is what the musical Little House on the Prairie is all about.

I have tickets to see the show at ASU Gammage this weekend—in addition to watching my daughter offer an amusing portrayal of a gin-guzzling wench (not her official role) in Greasepaint Youtheatre’s Oliver! I hope they’ll be taking voluntary donations after the show so anyone with an interest can join the Little House cast in supporting Habitat for Humanity. I love these types of opportunities to give back because they allow me to do good works while enjoying the things I love most. (My girls do too–when I took them to see Springsteen earlier this year, the food bank folks seemed charmed by the fact that they’d drop money in every single donation bin each and every time they passed it!)

When the Broadway Across America production of Rent came to ASU Gammage a while back, folks had the opportunity to take home autographed Rent souvenirs (Playbills, posters, etc.) with certain donation levels. No pressure involved—ever. But the opportunity is there. I spotted a little something for Lizabeth at the recent Arizona Thespian Festival, which featured a sale of Broadway memorabilia to benefit Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS. I get the double joy of treating her to a special holiday gift and supporting a cause I believe in.

I remember learning of Habitat for Humanity many years ago, thanks to the involvement of former U.S. President Jimmy Carter and his wife Rosalyn Carter. Come to think of it, they’ve introduced me to many a good cause—including the Carter Center in Atlanta, which houses a renowned mental health program dedicated to policy goals such as reducing stigma, raising awareness, improving prevention and achieving health care equity.

I’m certain I’ll fall in love with Little House on the Prairie when I see it this weekend. But it’ll be more than the heartwarming story, charming dance numbers and moving dialogue—it’ll also be a renewed appreciation for the role of theater and theater folk in promoting social justice.

I love them for that…

–Lynn

Coming up: The Southwest Shakespeare Company, Holiday art book selection

Something very rare happened at the Fox Theatre last night in Detroit. I walked to the Box Office at intermission to get a ticket to see the show a second time for later in the weekend. Little House on the Prairie, the Musical, is wholesome, lovely, and pure. It brings something to the musical theatre that hasn’t been seen in a long, long time — a STORY, told simply, with a great cast, costumes, set, and fully geared to the entire family.

Granted, this is not West Side Story. The tale being told here is simple, humorous, and lively. It’s family theatre, and it’s fine. Seen only a few weeks after the not-ready-for-primetime “101 Dalmations, the musical”, Little House is a breath of fresh air – and I mean that in the best way.

While the musical follows the written books, not the tv show, everything here will be familiar (at least to 30-somethings and up). But there is a wonderful story for your young ones to follow as well. The audience was rapt to the show from start to finish, and I have to admit, there are some big tears by the end of the show — I dare you not to well up. I dare you, because you SHOULD well-up — it’s directed beautifully and performed pitch-perfectly to the style and size of the show, and the emotions are perfectly manipulated for you. I’m a big fan of gratuitous emotional manipulation if it is done right — and here it is done right — it sneaks up on you and catches you with a lump in your throat for most of Act II (which is stronger, by the way, than Act I).

Once again, the Fox Theatre proves to be the wrong venue for the production – and was more than half empty at the performance I saw. This is a musical that deserves to be seen. It came to town with great word of mouth from audiences, and critical word of mouth from theatre folks I know. Well, they’re Scrooges if they can’t take a family-classic and enjoy it for a couple hours. I loved it. As I stated before, I loved it so much I’m going back to see it again.

If you saw the musical version of LITTLE WOMEN a few seasons ago, you’ll instantly be familiar with the style of story theatre employed here — props become other objects, set changes and technical objects are kept to a minimum, and the musical focuses on the story at play.

The music is lovely — it evokes Americana at it’s best; though like Aaron Copland or Charles Ives, it soon fades away from memory. But it’s integrated well with the lyrics, and it sweeps you along on, well, the prairie. The art design is perfect for the show, and reminds you that life used to be lived on a much larger canvas than it is now. And the cast itself is one of the most appealing I’ve seen in a long time.

Highly recommended — and I mean that in the most genuine, wholesome, lovely, purest way. This is clean-cut American musical theatre, and it deserves to be seen. Forget the cynics, just get your tickets. It’s here through Sunday. There is nothing objectionable for your little ones (though you might have to explain some of the storyline to them on the way home). Let me just warn you — if you think “Rent” is the best musical ever written, you are going to absolutely hate this musical — call it the anti-Rent…it’s the kind of show that was a dime a dozen in the 50’s — the musicals I grew up on, and the musicals that I consider the “heart” of musical comedy.

And that’s the view from Ann Arbor today.

I’m a Laura Ingalls Wilder fan. Way before the TV show, I read all the Little House books. Little House in the Big Woods is my favorite. But I read LH on the Prairie, LH on Silver Lake, etc.  I even read the books about when her husband was a little boy. Little Farmer Boy I believe is the name of one.  (That’s where I learned what an ox REALLY is, and why there are no mama oxen.)

When the TV show came out, I was right there. Watching every week. Even when it was called LITTLE *** ON THE PRAIRIE (the *** rhymes with prairie. You figure it out. I’m still mad at the men in my life who nick named it that.)

So last night, DH and I scored tickets to see LITTLE HOUSE ON THE PRAIRIE the musical. We were front row center. I could lean forward a bit and see the orchestra.

And little Laura (Melissa Gilbert) from the TV show was Ma.

So, how was it? you ask.

Well, it was a stage production.

And it was a musical.

And, in truth, it kind of sucked. (Who wrote this? DH asked at one point.)

I loved it.

Ma didn’t sing much. Melissa is there to be the name–the draw. Not to dazzle you with her voice. Pa sang a lot and had a great voice. Laura was cute as could be and Mary did a fair job of being blind. Loved Carrie. Gorgeous voice. Cute kid. (When does she go to school?)

Lots of dancing. A whole lot of dancing.

And get this–the men all tucked their pants into their boots. A-C-K! I wanted so bad to go back stage and tell them a real man in the west never wore their pants tucked into their boots. At least they shouldn’t have. That’s way too girly. Yes, there are reasons besides the look. With the pants on the outside, dirt can’t fall inside. Critters can’t crawl inside. You tootsies are safer.

But I digress.

I liked the show. I enjoyed seeing a mature Melissa Gilbert. Enjoyed most of the songs and some of the dancing.

Afterward, at 11 pm DH and I had hamburgers, and got home at midnight. We haven’t done that on a week night in years.

So . . . the big question: Would I go back? Not on a work night. I’m pooped.

Walnut Grove was a small town in Minnesota that was founded by Lars Hanson in 1840. It is where Oleson’s Mercantile, the post office, the church and school, the feed and seed warehouse and Hanson’s mill were located among others. The Oleson family lived directly in Walnut Grove while the Ingalls family lived in Plum Creek, and the Edwards and later the Garveys lived near there as well. Harriet and Nels Oleson also built Nellie a restaurant in Walnut Grove.

Because of it’s generally friendly people and “small town charm”, Walnut Grove had many passerbys; some of which took advantage of it’s friendly folk such as the Galender brothers. The town did become a ghost town except for Doctor Baker and Lars Hanson when the Ingalls, Olesons and Garveys left to live in Winoka for a time.

While they were away, Lars had a stroke and Doctor Baker cared for him; Charles and Jonathan Garvey helped when they returned to hero township. He did recover the best that could be expected of him, but died not long after.

Walnut Grove was blown up by it’s townspeople in 1901.

At the end of Little House in the Big Woods, Laura is gazing into the firelight, safe with her family and holding fast to the moment, fixing it forever: Now is now, she thinks. It can never be a long time ago. And for the little girl reading those words in the 1970s (me, of course!), the gulf of a hundred years had  vanished, and the world was a place where you chinked the logs of your cabin and made your own bullets and looked forward to simple pleasures like sugaring time and butchering the hogs. How dull to return to the actual now, I thought, where the winter’s provisions are simply purchased at the grocery store, and balloons were not inflated pig bladders. We ought to at least have to make a day’s walk of it or dig a root cellar.

I didn’t know then that Laura Ingalls Wilder’s books were a kind of anti-New Deal propaganda penned in the 1930s, strongly finessed if not outright ghostwritten by her radical globetrotting journalist daughter, Rose Wilder Lane. I didn’t know then and I don’t care now–just like I don’t care that The Wizard of Oz might have been some kind of economic fable promoting the gold standard, with Oz for ounce, and Dorothy’s silver shoes (not ruby slippers in the book) following the yellow brick (read: gold) road to redemption. It’s interesting, and weird, but irrelevant to the girl I was then and the effect these books had on me.

Like many girls, I suppose, I loved Laura and Dorothy, and certainly fierce tomboy Jo from Little Women, though not their filmic counterparts–with the exception of Judy Garland, but she was always Judy Garland, never Dorothy Gale of the baked mud Kansas plains. I was no fan of the Little House TV show–nothing against Melissa Gilbert’s Laura, but she was just a cute little freckle-faced girl, no “Half-Pint” whose Pa said was “strong as a little French horse.” (And how surreal to see her appear in recent years on an episode of Nip/Tuck as a woman sexually involved with her dog.) When a film version of Little Women came out in 1994, I was horrified that to learn that Winona Ryder, that frail little wisp, had been cast as Jo. She seemed as authentic a Jo as the Madame Alexander doll version with its vacuous stare and pristine red dress–why no scorch mark?  It’s the flaws that make Jo interesting.

Tourists of all ages, genders, races, creeds and political affiliations are clamoring to dress as "Anne of Green Gables" in the utopian land of Prince Edward Island

Well, now you know my vote. Leave your vote below!

In case you are wondering what I am doing wearing braids and a green dress, explanations can be found below. Not that any explanations are necessary — both Canada and the USA, for the moment, still protect free expression.

READ HOW YOU, TOO, CAN BECOME A CANADIAN ICON!

Boston Herald: For $2, you can be “Anne of Green Gables”

Herald “Working Stiff” Blog: “Dress for Success: Why can’t Lexington and Concord be this photo-op friendly?

Tacky Tourist Photos: Third runner-up in the “Anne of Green Gables” lookalike contest

Back to Laura Ingalls… Her dad, Charles Ingalls, a.k.a. Michael Landon, could be one of the coolest TV characters of all time. He was gentlemanly and could kick your ass. He always did the right thing, that Charles.

If you click on the picture, you can see what the real Charles looked like (the beard styles of the time made everyone look like the Unabomber).

My fourth grade teacher gave us extra credit for watching that show because it allegedly taught us about the nuances of being a pioneer.

JAPANNE OF GREEN GABLES

My goofy Anne photo is now being formally shared with the Japanese fan base. Here’s what makes it official:

Click the picture for Yuka Kajihara’s view of who is the most “charming Anne” of all time.

UPDATE: Bonnet Heads Fight Back: Anne vs. Laura debate heats up the Prairie!

PLUS… Exclusive commentary from “Little House” actress Alison Arngrim, a.k.a. Nellie Oleson: “Actress urges peace between Bonnetheads and Gableheads.“

As I mentioned in a post a few weeks ago, I’ve started re-aquainting myself with the joys of reading, something that was a constant in my life before I moved to CA four-and-a-half years ago.

First up was Prairie Tale by Melissa Gilbert.  It was a very easy read and I could hear Melissa’s voice as I read.  There was one aspect I found a bit disturbing and that was the very low opinion she had of herself as a youngster and young adult.  Even now as an adult, she is not able to forgive herself for her less than mature antics when she was…well…less than a mature person!  I will admit to cringing when I think back on some of my less than stellar moments, but they were acts of a younger, less mature person so I’m not beating myself up for them.  Besides, they’re over and done – I can’t change them.

Next up was Quinn Cummings book “Notes From The Underwire”.  I had it on good authority that this book would leave me laughing hysterically.  Well, there were a couple incidents of that, but more importantly I was completely enthralled with Quinn’s writing style.  Her humor is self-depricating, but not in a negative way.  It just points out her ability to see humor in every situation even if it’s at her expense.  And the way she is able to string words together and pull the most interesting comparisons out of thin air is astounding!  If only I could write so well!

After reading these two books I felt invigorated, happy and completely hooked on reading so I picked up a copy of The Time Traveler’s Wife.  The whole time travel concept captured my attention in the movie previews, so I decided the book would be my next easy read.  All I can say about this book is…I’M SO CONFUSED!!!!  I’ve tried really hard for more than 2 weeks but I know when I’m defeated.  The last mini-chapter I was reading involved the two main characters being 5 different ages at different times, talking about one being younger in the future and meeting an older other, being the ages they are now and what ages they would be when they meet in the future.  I was hoping that after “getting into the book” the age thing would have me less confused but that has not proven to be the case so I’m going to set the book aside and try it again later.

So, am I still on a reading kick?  Hopefully! 

What am I going to read next to make sure I continue on said kick?

One night last week my cousin was talking on her Facebook page about Clan of The Cave Bears by Jean M. Auel.  It’s the first book in a series of five called Earth’s Children.  I borrowed the books years ago from a friend and so enjoyed them I was nearly in tears when I finished the last book. 

There are very few specifics I remember so what did I do?  You bet!  I ordered the paperback books at Barnes & Noble and they arrived today!

There they are in all their glory, the five books that contain 3,521 pages of sheer glory for my reading pleasure!!! 

I have no doubt that these books will once again become so much a part of my life that I’ll be seriously sad when I turn the last page.  The only question is…..how long is it going to take me to get to that last page?

Being a former fan of Little House On The Prairie I just had to share this poem with all of you.  Especially in our times of financial troubles, we all need to help eachother hold on to the simple things in life.

“It is the simple things in life that make living worthwhile,
the sweet fundamental things such as love and duty,
work and rest, and living close to nature.”
-Laura Ingalls Wilder

BTW – Melissa Gilbert is a huge Tweeter.  I follow her.

New in at Cinema Books: Prairie Tale A Memoir  by Melissa Gilbert, $26.00 cloth.  This is the  autobiography of actress Gilbert who was beloved by millions in the television series Little House on the Prairie. Adopted by a showbiz family, Gilbert grew up on screen. and was very much a part of  the Hollywood, Brat Pack scene . But the happy little girl”Laura” on screen masked problems of debt and drugs.

When is it appropriate to put your own picture on the cover of your book? Most authors place a photograph of themselves on the back cover, or on one of the inside flaps. Do you need to have a giant picture of your face on the cover too? With the rise of digital photography, Photoshop and cosmetic surgery the practice of blessing your book with your own likeness has become more and more popular. I have observed four situations when an author will grace us with their beauty and knowledge, all with varying degrees of correctness:

1. Your book is autobiographical

Who can argue with this? Of course, if you wrote a book about yourself it only makes sense to slap your best photograph on the cover. A snapshot of you at your most elegant and impressive moment. Your hair is perfect, your pose is graceful and your setting (whether you are sitting on a couch or staring reflectively through a window) commands respect and speaks to your poise.  This works especially well if you’re a celebrity and your book details every glorious aspect of your star-studded life (yawn…).

Here are a few of my favorites…

Bill Clinton is so awesome his picture needed to grace the cover AND the spine. I mean, c’mon…

Check out Slash, shrouded in the same smoky decadence that defines his music.

Melissa Gilbert’s is great. The pose, the elegance, the hands clasped reverently, the makeup the hair. Striking.

Check out Mandela, smiling in all his  “I’m free now, suckers!” glory.

But what if your autobiography isn’t so glorious?

Eric Clapton did something cool. He didn’t use his photograph, he used his autograph. Check out his cover. It’s simple, classic and kicking complete butt.

And if you’re not famous, say no one knows who you are – it makes no sense to put your picture on the cover. Check out A Long Way Gone by Ishmael Beah. This cover tells us that the book is more about his experience than about him.

2. Your book is not an autobiography but it’s still pretty much all about you

Politicians do this when they decide to run for president…

Makes sense. If you run for president, there is a good chance no one will ever know what you look like, you’ll certainly never appear on TV or the newspaper, so it’s important to write a book with your face dominating the cover.

Check out what John McCain did. He used a picture from his war hero days. I guess that’s why he got the nomination.

Someone used the my-face-on-the-cover-of-my-book trick and cleverly fooled a small but significant part of the population into thinking this John Kerry book was autobiographical….

I guess they got the last laugh.

3. You (claim to be) an expert in your field

Look how smart Dr. Phil makes himself look. It actually appears that he knows something besides how to sound folksy on TV. Way to go Phil!

Suze is a little less self-important – note how the title is bigger than her hair? She’s actually pushed into the background on this, trying to sell you on the book’s message instead of her charm.

Check out good old Stephen Hawking. You don’t get any more expert than him. He’s sitting there looking out at us saying “I’m 3×10^9 times smarter than all of you combined.” And we love him for it.

4. You are incredibly vain

This last category is where I have the biggest problem. These people are not experts, though they certainly claim to be. They have not really accomplished anything in their lives and are famous for being famous. Meet the cast and crew of the American political punditry!

I mean really – we see your yapping mugs on TV every night. Do we also need to see you on the cover of some timely 30,000 word book?

There are two classes that fit this demographic: the talk show host and their power panel. When it comes to the panel, some are legitimate journalists, others are “Fox News Contributors” while some have more vague titles like “Democratic Strategist.” The group I want to focus on are the hosts themselves.

These are not attractive people. They are carnivorous, hateful human beings concerned only about Macing their equally venomous opponents while scoring cheap political points during their segment of the 24-hour news cycle. They are despicable people and the most loathsome maladies of our society. Only God knows why we consume their books like Irishmen draining pints of Guinness.

No matter what side you’re on the same phenomenon holds true: that for every Foxbot who springs from the cesspool of political discourse, an equally hateful Minion of MSNBC will appear and feed their hungry rabble with red meat. The books they write are an extension of their shows – so why do we buy them? We like their faces on TV, apparently we also like to see them sitting beside us on the crapper.

Here are some examples of American vanity at its worst:

Here’s Laura Ingraham trying to look like your pretty, everyday soccer mom. She should take lessons from her own cover and keep her mouth shut because when it opens, the image you see on the left morphes into a rabid, wild lipsticked pig.

Michael Medved just wants you to know that he’s constipated.

Is Keith Olberman trying to tell us that HE’S the worst person in the world???

I guess, if you say so.

So you see, punditry has become a lucrative home-based business and we have no one to blame but ourselves.

What are your thoughts? When is it appropriate to put your face on the cover of your book? Should this become a more widespread technique or have we had enough? Post your thoughts below!

For all but the last four years of my life I lived in New England – and I read all the time.  Mystery, romance, biography, autobiography, general fiction – whatever appealed to me I bought and read.  It was a nightly ritual to hunker down in bed with a good book and read for the last half hour or so of the day.  And if the book was really good I could be found curled up in a chair reading at any hour of the day.

Once I moved to California the reading switch in me somehow got turned off and I can’t figure out how or why.  The only thing that’s changed is my location — I work full time, I own a home, I putter on crafts, I garden, I hang with friends — all the same things I did while living on the east coast.

But somehow, there just isn’t time to read now.  Oh, I’ve tried.  There are no fewer than 5 paperbacks in various drawers of my nightstand, all with bookmarks placed somewhere in the first 30 pages.  I can’t tell you a thing about any of the books so I need to remove the bookmarks and put the books back with the other 6 or 7 dozen I’ve accumulated but not read.  Hhhmmm….which pile will I add these too – the bookcase in the hallway or the bookcase in the guest closet?  Or maybe they can join the other books in my entertainment center?  Or maybe the books stacked on the coffee table?

Funny thing about my reading “issue”.  In 2008 I went back east for vacation over the 4th of July and read an entire book.  And I loved it — the getting lost somewhere foreign, the pictures my mind created of the characters and locations.  Unfortunately I can’t remember the name of the book but I enjoyed it so much I left it at my brother’s cottage for future visitors to read.  I was so inspired that I even bought a book in the airport so I’d have something to read on the way home.  Sadly, said book is one of the ones in my nightstand.

Christmas of 2008 found me back on the east coast visiting my sister and her family.  One of my gifts from my sister-in-law was the book “Knit Two” – the sequel to “The Friday Night Knitting Club”.  It had been assumed that my reading habits were still in tact and that I’d already read the first book given my love of and active participation in knitting.  Sadly I hadn’t opened a book since my July trip and hadn’t even heard of the Knitting Club books.  The day after Christmas my sister took me to the book store so I could purchase the first book.  Within 2 days said first book, all 360 pages of it, was history and the second book was started.  Three days after Christmas, before my plane even had me half way back to California, the second book was finished as well.

A few weeks ago I read an article about Melissa Gilbert’s book “Praire Tale” and decided to pick it up and once again attempt to read a book in California.  This book was the PERFECT book to get me reading again.  Not only did I grow up watching Melissa on TV but the writing in the book makes it a fun and easy read.  And the chapters or intermediate breaks happen every few pages so there’s no huge time commitment (like the day I spent reading here and there as I hung out in waiting rooms).

Tonight I did something totally out of character for my life here in California.  After dinner I dropped into the recliner and read!  No news, no syndicated sitcoms — just the book!  It was such an earth shattering change of routine that I literally had chills running up and down my body!  I had to turn the A/C off and move to the sofa and cover myself with my snuggie!!!

I finished the book and am now basking in the glow of doing something different just for me, of treating myself.  The book is on my dining room table so I can bring it into work for a co-worker to borrow.  And my next reading experience is sitting right next to the just completed one.  My new book is “Notes from the Underwire” by Quinn Cummings.  I have it on good authority that this book will have me laughing out loud as I read it. 

I just need to read it….

Why?

Not only did the alarm clock have to ring at 4:30AM, but it also rang 3 more times as my fingers insisted on letting me get additional sleep, in 9 minute intervals.  I’m not sure why I’m so tired as I shut off the light around 9:40PM after reading for a half-hour.  The book I’m reading is Prairie Tale by Melissa Gilbert and it’s a fun read so that’s not the problem.  I did wake up twice – a 1:20AM potty stop and a 3:25AM stiff neck alert.  A bit of pillow fluffing on the latter and I was back in ZZZzzzz land.

On top of feeling groggy right now I had to deal with one impatient feline roomy.  Furball Scotch meowed and swatted my face everytime the alarm went off.  Fortunately for my face she’s declawed!  When I finally got myself out of bed and headed down the hall Scotch was by my side yabbering away the whole time.  She was quite put-out when I stopped in the guest room to open the window, then it was into the garage to turn on the sprinkler system, then to the third bedroom to open that window and finally into the dining room/family room/kitchen.  Scotch was all excited but alas I continued on window patrol and opened 2 more windows and the sliding glass doors.

Why was she being so vocal?  Because she wanted breakfast.  Mind you, there is dry food available to the kitties 24/7 so it’s not like the 35 minute delay meant her tummy was empty — if it was it was totally her choice.  She just wanted the moist food…

As late as the morning started and as groggy as I feel there is a silver lining.  I slept through the 4:30AM newscast on ABC7.  That may not seem like much of a silver lining to you but for me it is.  Garth Kemp is on the road on Friday mornings so the first 1/2 hour he’s not doing the weather, Indra Petersons is, and she drives me nuts!  She’s great eye candy for the male viewers and she does know what she’s talking about, but half the time she talks waaaaay too fast and either slurs her words together, shortens the words or omits them all together.  I really wish she’d stop trying to fit 55 seconds worth of information into a 45 second slot.

So now it’s time to get in gear so I can get to work…..no slow start today….thank goodness tomorrow is Saturday!

Dear Elle,

You are a grownup magazine.  Do you not feel the least bit creepy with those sexed-out pictures of Miley Cyrus?  I thought you might, seeing as how she’s not yet seventeen.  Also, I’m assuming these are not pressure pictures like the controversial pics done by the phenomenal Annie Leibovitz.  After all, fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me.

My baby sister is seventeen, and I’d have more than a few choice words to say if I found bondage-light photos of her.  I’m all for owning and celebrating your sexuality, but there’s a reason we make the distinction between minors and adults.  In this country, we make eighteen the dividing line.  Even then, it’s still unsettling the way we fetishize that youngest possible turning point.

Gross.

In light of Michael Jackson, in light of Brooke Shields, Jodie Sweetin, Valerie Bertinelli, Maureen McCormick, Melissa Gilbert, Lindsay Lohan, Mary-Kate Olsen, Judy Garland, and on and on and on, why do we keep doing this?  The party line for every celebrity who was such as a child is “I had to grow up too soon.”  And then they fall apart with all of the effort that they put into becoming stars in the first place.

Now, lots of people have to grow up too soon.  You don’t have to be a celebrity to be called up to support and care for your family, to fend for yourself, etcetera.  In the not too distant past, we didn’t even really have a culturally supported youth as we know it today.  But the point is, we have it now.  And celebrity in children seems to systematically destroy each of them.

I don’t speak to you from the high horse.  I absolutely cheered on the implosion of both Mary-Kate Olsen and Lindsay Lohan.  Sometimes, even though I’m totally rooting for her to stay strong, I sometimes think about possible roads of demise for Dakota Fanning.  Why?  Because I’m kind of a douchebag.  I do a lot of shitty things for sport.  I also only have a circulation rate of myself, my cat, and whoever might be unlucky enough to be hanging out with me (which isn’t too many people).

We hold famous people to much higher standards.  In that regard, I do that for you, too.  On the regular, you’re pretty a classy magazine, Elle.  Now, you’re not Vanity Fair, but you’re also not Cosmo.  I expect more from you than this.

I don’t like to blame fashion magazines for all of the ills of society – that’s just lazy finger pointing.  But you do have an influence; you have a great big voice that most of us could only dream of having.  You don’t even have to use it for good.  Go big, go empty.  Just don’t use it for ill.  There is nothing redeeming about those pictures.  That’s not the empty nothingness of a grown celebrity strutting her stuff.  That’s the eroticization of a child who, in another context, would land the average age of your readers in jail.

Is that the message you want to send?

Best wishes for future better choices,

Amy

Loving the llama

Of all the Michael Jackson coverage this week, I think this article is my favourite: it’s a sort-of review of another celebrity-memoir that describes some oddball scenes involving among others Michael Jackson, Melissa Gilbert (the book’s author), Liza Minelli, and Andrew McCarthy.

Aside from describing McCarthy “suddenly” making out with a bald Minelli, right after leaving Sammy Davis Jr.’s house (say what?), there’s this ought-to-be-classic scene, where Michael Jackson enters a restaurant and joins this group of people unannounced and uninvited at their dinner table, and remains silent until the end of the meal:

And that’s when Michael finally spoke the only words he would say the entire evening.

“You can come to my house,” he said. “I got a llama.”

(The MJ-llama puzzle picture came from this site, which is all-llama-trivia, all the time.)

On the television screen, they looked so well-scrubbed and all-American. Many tween and teen girls (like me) looked up and admired Valerie Bertinelli, Barbara on One Day at a Time, and Melissa Gilbert, Laura on Little House on the Prairie. Both shows were typical 70s fare of family and lessons. The families were a little different, but the lessons were always there in a half hour or an hour…and these two actresses were often the ones learning the lessons. They were good girls on their respective shows.

Both actresses have now written books. Since I admired Valerie Bertinelli from the show and, of course, her weight struggle, I bought her book, “Losing It,” and read it last year. I haven’t read Melissa Gilbert’s “A Prairie Tale” yet, but I have seen a promotional interview about it and read an excerpt.

I identified with these two actresses in the 70s. They played good girls struggling with boys, peer pressure, and of course, life lessons. They were playing written parts, but I was learning from their acting. I was still learning that half hour/hour tv shows fix everything by the end of the show (I should have figured that out being the Brady Bunch devotee that I was…) and that doesn’t happen in real life. I was at an age (the dreaded puberty) where I needed as much as help as I could get and I turned to these actresses portraying girls I admired. I hate to say it, but I think I sometimes got more out of these shows than I did with my own parents. I was breaking out, I was too fat, I had a crushes on boys in school (every grade, there seemed to be a new one…and it never did me any good.) I wanted to be Barbara Cooper, thinner than me, pretty with long brown hair and tight jeans, with boys crushing on her. I wanted Laura Ingalls’ feistiness. So I kept watching the shows. Unfortunately, I never got those qualities, but I still enjoyed the shows.

So it’s interesting to read/hear from the actresses who were playing these roles and their real life struggles (karma - Jamie’s Crying from Van Halen has just streamed on Kcdx.com…) Valerie met and dealt with alcoholic Eddie and Melissa got pregnant by Rob Lowe (I think after the show) and lost her baby, plus had her own bout of alcoholism. From her writing, Valerie seemed to be somewhat like Barbara Cooper, a good girl, but she had her adventures pre-Eddie, met Eddie Van Halen, and then really started having them! I was listening to Van Halen in the 70s, so hearing about her take on the band was another fun/sobering read.

I’m guessing the two women wanted to set the record straight. I think Valerie has succeeded (and I admire her now more a 49-year-old given what she’s been through than as a 15-year-old fairly new actress.) I’ll probably read Melissa’s book, but growing up in front of America on a family show must have had plenty of pressures.

I think I’m blogging about these two books because the shows were so intertwined with my life and once again, have caused me to pause to revisit my childhood from an adult perspective…my reoccurring theme. The reality, though, is I’m still that 70s good girl.

Pretty in Plaid by Jen Lancaster

I really enjoyed this book.  It gave insight into what made Jen into the person she is in Bitter is the New Black.  I am sure that many women feel this way, but I recognize so many of the scenarios in which she finds herself – from trying to find her niche in high school, to having to start over agan in college, to thinking that making $24,000/year was great money (lol), to wanting some of the finer things in life.  She stands up for what she believes in at work, only to find that management really doesn’t care – who hasn’t been there?!?  Again, I laughed all the way through the book.  I can’t wait for more books from her!

From Amazon:

In Pretty in Plaid, Jen Lancaster reveals how she developed the hubris that perpetually gets her into trouble. Using fashion icons of her youth to tell her hilarious and insightful stories, readers will meet the girl she used to be.

Think Jen Lancaster was always “like David Sedaris with pearls and a super-cute handbag?” (Jennifer Coburn) Think again. She was a badge-hungry Junior Girl Scout with a knack for extortion, an aspiring sorority girl who didn’t know her Coach from her Louis Vuitton, and a budding executive who found herself bewildered by her first encounter with a fax machine. In this humorous and touching memoir, Jen Lancaster looks back on her life—and wardrobe—before bitter was the new black and shows us a young woman not so very different than the rest of us.

The author who showed us what it was like to wait in line at the unemployment office with a Prada bag, how living in the city can actually suck, and that losing weight can be fun with a trainer named Barbie and enough Ambien is ready to take you on a hilarious and heartwarming trip down memory lane in her shoes (and very pretty ones at that).

Prairie Tale:  A Memoir by Melissa Gilbert

Okay, first of all, suck it.  Yes, I loved Little House on the Prairie, and I thought Melissa Gilbert was super-cool.  She’s always fascinated me and I was thrilled to see that she was going to open up and dish on her own life.

The book started off slowly, and at first I was a bit disappointed in her writing style.  However, by the end she showed that she has really grown into the woman she is today.  I wish that she had been able to avoid some of the Hollywood pitfalls – the cocaine and the alcoholism, but I suppose in that lifestyle, it’s as natural as me running my own errands or making my own lunch.

I wish that she would have written more about her costars – she rarely mentions them beyond Michael Landon (father figure), Melissa Sue Anderson (nemesis), Alison Arngrim (best friend in real life), and Jonathan Gilbert (brother in real life.)  I would have loved to have had a backstory and opinion on all of them.

At the end, she really has it together and has a great outlook on life now.

From Amazon:

As a kid, I loved the Little House books and the series. Melissa Gilbert, as Laura, felt like a kindred spirit and the sister I never had. Maybe it was the same pale skin and freckles, her long reddish-brown braids to my long reddish-brown pigtails, my own run-ins with Nellies, and don’t get me started on the similar teeth…

So, that meant I bought the book as soon as I knew it existed, and it meant that I enjoyed it a fair amount. I do think you have to be a fan of the actress though — I don’t think it transcends that in the way that some autobiographies manage to do.

There are worse things that to have continued good will from work you did back during the Carter administration, and to be part of a classic. As much as I am a Buffy fan, her father is played by Almanzo Wilder!

Anyhow, Ms. Gilbert comes across as fairly honest while only having unkind things to say about a few people. After reading the book, her list is different from mine. She decidedly does not like Valerie Harper, and from her account of things, I can understand why. She also had a beautifully catty run-in with Shannen Doherty after she got Single White Femaled by her — even though Ms. Gilbert’s husband at that time deserved the lion’s share of her anger.

At the heart of the story, is Melissa Gilbert’s journey toward accessing her emotions in real life. At several key parts of her childhood she suffered losses — her parents divorced, her father died, a beloved pet passed away, and Michael Landon’s marriage fell apart when his family was like her second fantasy. None of these traumas were fully grieved at the time, and they had an effect on the woman she became, and led to some self-destructive choices.

I, of course, liked reading stories about the Little House set, but I also enjoyed reading about the real story behind her on and off again relationship with Rob Lowe, her time as a member of the brat pack, and her adult life in general. While I want to say it lagged at times, the fact that I stayed up late reading it shows I remained entertained.

Think Melissa Sue Anderson will write a retaliatory book about Melissa Gilbert free-basing with Mr. Edwards and Doc Baker, while losing her bonnet to Reverend Alden over gambling debts?