Fantastick News

I miss singing.

This is not news. The news is that I've found an outlet for the summer. I'm performing in the Westborough Players' Club's musical production of "The Fantasticks" on July 31-August 3.

"The Fantasticks" is Romeo and Juliet with a twist. The lovers' fathers want them to fall in love and fake a feud--and a kidnapping--so that they will. But the lovers learn of their fathers' ploy, so it goes with all theatrical deceptions. So the lovers split off to experience the world beyond, with the assistance of the play's narrator and mysterious bandit "El Gallo" (Me). Will they reignite their love or discover it was contrived and, thus, worthless? Come find out.

I cordially invite you all to come see the show. I'm excited to rejoin two of my former stagemates, Jon Eldridge and Brian Higgins, and perform one last 'Borough show before shipping up to Boston.

One final fun note: our director, Pat Stevens was the voice of Velma on "The Scooby-Doo Show" for 40 episodes (1976-1979). So if that question pops up at trivia night, you can Wow your friends.

*

Looks like my streak of days without wearing make-up will end at 368. Can anyone tell me what the over-under was on that?

Rube

Perfect

The reason I haven't written in a while is because "oh nothin, same ol, how bout you" isn't my idea of a rousing entry. But amidst adapting to the new boss, fruitless apartment searching, and fruitless jdate surfing (a blog I've tried and failed to write several times), there are two sweet moments I've soaked in of late. One is my sister's graduation (the subject of my previous entry, below). The other happened just 6 hours later...

A golf ball sat at the bottom of the 10th cup at the Highfields Golf & Country Club in Grafton, MA. I was standing in the rough... on a hill... 105 yards away. This was no ace, not even a birdie... "just" a par save (which--if you don't golf--means I was royally f-ing up this hole prior to the aforementioned shot of my life). A younger Jayme would have certainly lamented: "That's an eagle shot if I didn't screw up my drive." He would eventually pat himself on the back for overcoming thick grass and a headwind. But on this day, after a single Mickelson-esk leap, I stood there for a solid minute (it's cool, there was no one with or behind me) and calmly absorbed this perfect Now. I didn't overcome the wind, the rough, nothing... I existed with it all. Pros know how to place the ball on the right slope of the green. Even plenty of amateurs can spin the ball back or sideways. Frankly, folks, I ain't that good. But on Saturday, May 17, 2008, I co-achieved perfection in a single shot.

I'm still striving for that hole-in-one. And when I get it, I'll strive for another. It's not about obtaining (the mantra of my former self), but creating--again and again. One of my two sports heroes, Nolan Ryan didn't set out to toss a record 7 no-hitters. He took the mound each day to co-create the most perfect Now he could. He just did it 7 times... with a lot of talent, 8 teammates, and a little luck each time.

One final thought: This is my 13th year playing golf. My longest hole-out prior to this day was from 30 feet. And I never owned a sand wedge until 2 hours before my 55-degree Nike hit that shot. If that's a not a reminder that passion only goes so far without the right tools... I don't know what is.

Rube

Chapter 3, page 1098

My sister, Emily, graduated from Boston University's Center for Digital Imaging Arts this weekend. Besides certified photographers (like Em), CDIA has produced a slew of talented graphic and web designers, audio producers, 3-D animators, and digital filmmakers.

While all of them have proven quite capable of creating product, commencement speaker Steve Maler of the Commonwealth Shakespeare Company challenged them to collaborate in order to reach a higher goal: tell a complete story.

Three years has passed since Newhouse Dean David Rubin charged me and my colleagues to do the same. Since then, I've filed more than 1200 reports. I've edited a few policy briefs and co-created three brochures... but I still haven't told a story the way I want to. In fact, I'm not sure what that way is. Not only am I still searching out the right story to tell--I'm still searching for my voice.

That's the one challenge I was not prepared to face.

They told me it's tough to crack in. They told me the money would suck. They told me to combat competition with persistence. But no one told me I would devote some of my work shifts to proofing meeting agendas, FedExing packages, and covering for the receptionist along the way to finding my story and my way of telling it.

I am not discouraged. When friends complain about the menial tasks they perform at the job they thought they wanted, I remind them (and, in turn, myself) that "all of this will make for a great Chapter 3 in your inspiring memoir someday."

My one piece of advice for Communicators of the Class of 2008 is this: Chapter 3 can be lengthy.

You can choose to see that as a daunting challenge or an exhilarating journey. The choice is yours. I've felt both at different times. But whichever way you prepare for it... prepare for it. Appreciate that your experience as a key grip, a copy editor, or photo assistant will not only influence today's product but also your own method of storytelling down the road. And, to quote a magnet Mom keeps on the fridge: "Find Joy in the Journey."

I'm writing this as much to myself as I am to you...

J


To read Emily's take on her journey, I encourage you to click:
http://www.frozenoranges.com/2008/05/nowhere-to-go-but-up.html

Talk to Me

I propose we reframe the "language" debate in America.

The two sides have seemingly been whittled down to: "Speak English, it's America's language" vs. "America's culture is that of all the world's cultures."

I think each side has valid arguments. But I also think this language/culture war has buried the true goal of language... to connect people. A short story:

* * *

Last Friday, I parked my car in an $11 lot (they do exist... South Boston across from the courthouse). I planned to leave it overnight but wanted to check the rates. Not seeing a sign, I asked the attendant.

"Top of the building. I can't talk to you," she said, seemingly pointing to a garage across the street. There was no one around besides us, so "I can't talk to you" didn't mean she was busy. Needing to know the rates, I ignored her lack of English proficiency and pressed on.

"I have to park there?" I asked after making her repeat "Top of the building" 3 times to be sure that's what she said.

"Top of building. I can't talk to you," she continued, more annoyed each time she had to open her mouth.

Finally, I smiled, waved, and walked around the back of her booth only to realize what she was trying to tell me. The SIGN with the rates was on the back of the booth.

So I got what I needed. But because we don't speak the same language, both of us squandered an opportunity to connect with another human being and, on the contrary, started our day pretty annoyed with one.

* * *

As we become more isolated from one another by self-checkout lines and touch-tone dial menus, I'd like to think I can still share a moment with a stranger on the street, gain a little knowledge, shake hands, and walk away feeling better about living on this rock. But to do that, it helps to decide how we can best converse. 

So to all you non-English speakers out there (and obviously, you read my blog) I apologize that the vocal fringe in our society has arrogantly told you to speak English or turn around. I'd like you to stay and chat. And since most of us are more versed in English, would you mind trying it out? Tell me how much it is to park in your lot. I'll tell you how to find Downtown Crossing. Maybe we'll share a bar top, bitch about the weather for 10 minutes, and exchange cards. No matter what, we'll both be happier for having met. 

I know that hanging onto your language for whatever reasons is your choice... but it's certainly not bringing us any closer.