So it’s been a while . . .
It’s been well over a year since I wrote a blog post. Looking back on it, it was probably a bad post to leave hanging. I guess I should start with a a health update.
So here we go: So far so good.
It’s weird to tell people you have cancer because it can mean such a wide range of things now. For me, it’s something to watch, which requires less daily monitoring than my diabetes. I can go days without thinking about it. But my calm and confidence in my doctors (all of my doctors have affirmed “you may die with this but not of it”—my new favorite cliche) isn’t as contagious as I might like. And coming at me with anxiety and alarmist questioning of my doctors doesn’t make me want to hang out with you. So after a public statement, i haven’t said much about it publicly.
It freaks a few of y’all out and I don’t have time for it.
It’s also kind of weird to talk about something that I’ll “die with but not of.” I suppose it’s useful to give people context for other cancers. The “Big C” simply isn’t dire in every situation and people need to know this and have some conversations with their doctor(s) before falling apart. Then again, because it’s more of a “small c” for me, there’s nothing laudatory about going on about it. People with more aggressive cancers do impress me when they talk about it. There’s a lot that is brave about going through those treatments publicly.
In short, this diagnosis has given me a lot to think about, a lot to assess about public vs. private, and where I go with any future health scares. But for now? So far so good.
On the other hand . . .
The accomplishment of 2019 that I’m happiest with is having created The Merry Mortality Mystery Show for the Houston Fringe Festival. I’ve wanted to do a one-man show for . . . ever, really, and never hit upon the format, them, content, and such. My 2018 piece “broken/heart/ache,” performed at that year’s Fringe, was successful enough to meke me see about expanding my medical history into an entertainment. And I did it. Including a section on the prostate cancer.
So make of the first section of this post above what you will.
I performed it on a Tuesday night during Game 6 of the World Series, which was being played here in Houston, but I had some nice words said to me by the people who were there, some of them even strangers.
And I’d love to do it again. I’d like to expand it a little bit (this iteration was about 45 minutes) but I need to start researching other fringe festivals around, near and far. It would travel pretty easily. I welcome any leads. I need to edit together a promo video from the material that got recorded . . .
Cary and John
My novella, first published in 2014, will get a re-release in 2020 from Wipf and Stock. I’m excited by this development and will have more to say as a release date become clear. Probably the best place to learn about it’s availability is to follow my Facebook writer page or Twitter account.
Writer and Performer
That’s what I usually call myself in my artist bios. The last few two or three years have been a little rough for both for me, especially the “writer” identity. That may be obvious from the lack of blog posts the last year and a half. Honestly, the current political environment has left me somewhat mute. What does my quiet voice have to say in this era? I’m still searching, but also recognizing that silence is not an option. My work is already heavy with the religion and spirituality, and I think that’s only going to get more so in the coming year. My way of dealing with the world has always defaulted to my desire to follow Jesus. How that manifests . . . well, stay tuned.
One note on 2019
Just briefly, the most important book I read all years was Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer. A trip through the world of plants, as led by a Native woman who is also a botanist, this book has shifted my way of thinking about the world. It also resonated with some old feelings, instincts, thoughts that I’ve had since childhood. I want to be careful with that because, certainly, I’m a European descendant with no connection to Native thought or culture. And yet, spent a good part of my childhood on the farm wondering about life that wasn’t human, how we interacted with it. I didn’t have a framework for even asking questions about these feelings, but Kimmerer has given me an entry point now. I really don’t know what this will mean for me going forward—-I hope it means something. But I would be remiss without noting this book. I read a lot that I enjoyed this year, saw a great deal of dance and theater that inspried me, but this book stands out as shifting my worldview. That doesn’t happen everyday..
Random Memory #5
Christmas (and so, the church) gave me my first taste of performing—the annual Sunday School Christmas program. In those days, in that place, we didn’t do a Christmas Eve worship service, but we retold the Christmas story with children singing carols and dressing up in bathrobes. Through the years, I don’t recall ever getting the plumb “boy role,” Joseph, but I’m sure I played shepherds and wise men more than once.
One of my earliest memories of this annual event was as a preschooler, at St John Lutheran Church in Paige, Texas. The carol was “Away in a Manger” and my toddler class was singing the cradle hymn. The adult in charge was teaching us the hand motions that went with the lyrics. I remember so few now, but as an example, as we sang “Away in a manger,” we pointed to the back of the church, as if the manger were way back there.
Another bit of choreography that I recall involved making the prayer hands and placing them against the side of our head as we tilted our heads and sang, “the little Lord Jesus laid down his sweet head.”
I resisted this motion. It didn’t make sense to me. I think I got that it was meant to denote “sleeping” but I didn’t know anyone who slept like that. In my adult performer voice, I would say that motion didn’t feel authentic.
I did it, after some prodding from the director, but i was sort of embarrassed about it. I imagine me making a face like, “why are all the others going along with this bullshit?”
This might be one root experience that has led me to prefer making my won work, being my own director.