. . . and then there was pickle.

Yep.

I got the job, and one I wasn’t counting on.

I am now the co-coordinator for a local theatre’s youth outreach program. I will be producing four shows a year that will utilize high school talent, touring to schools in the greater Cleveland area. The program is to focus on key social issues such as abuse, suicide, etc.

I will be responsible for all aspects of production, booking, and fundraising. I will once again be the one-man-band that I was with my old company in the early days – except now I’ll have a budget, credibility, salary, and a product that I can actually rally some funds around.

I will be able to primarily work from home – which is good.

It is good because while I was waiting to hear about this job I got a call from a different local theatre wanting to know if I would be interested in acting in their touring show. It is an eight-month contract touring ‘The Hobbit’ all over Ohio, some parts of Indiana, and Pennsylvania. It is sporadic work that depends on the bookings and will work perfectly with my ability to build my own calendar with the outreach program.

When it rains it snows.

I am now dually employed as actor and administrator, and start rehearsal tomorrow.

This is more than I could have hoped for, and I am ecstatic to have actually landed a job that is not only in my field, but a step up from where I was – with the opportunity to build a program from scratch that will showcase what I am capable of as a producer and director.

This is exactly the kind of position I had in mind when I went back to school, and although the money is less than I was hoping for - the scheduling aspects allow me the flexibility to get freelance work as an actor and director, which will help to keep me balanced and sane.

So, yeah me.

Pickle’s Papa

Well, as we have been back from Hilton Head and parts South for over a month now - I thought, "What the hell . . . Why not upload those vacation pitures that have been eating up my memory."

This is a brief synopsis of the journey.

It all started well . . . The Pickle got everthing packed.

Upon arrival The Wife and Pickle hit the Pool.



Of course the true purpose of a family vacation to let the family smother the baby with kisses while mom and dad sleep.




But enough of this goofing off- we soon hit the road for one of the South's most beautiful destinations, Savannah. We did so under the direction and guidance of our navigator - El Pickle. The trip took longer than anticipated.



Hey Pickle, What do think bout Savannah?



Well, lets explore then.



Savannah is pretty cool.



But at some point you have to eat, and we did in the oldest standing building in Georgia - where Robert Louis Stevenson wrote Treasure Island. It had the most awesome southern style buffet and air conditioning.



The next major event was heading out on a fishing charter to catch some shark with a really cool guy, Coach:



This is one of my three.



Even the wife got into the act.



and yes, this is our family's fulbright scholar with the Black Tip she brought in.



Eventually it was time to head home though because . . .



Insert 'Home-Sick' joke here:



Pickle's Papa

For years now I have been attempting to win my nephews’ and niece’s love and admiration by spoiling them beyond normal means.

I have had to work this hard because I know that their mother, my sister-in-law, has the lowest possible opinion of me as a human being, and I am sure says very nasty things about me in regular conversation.

To prove to them throughout the years that I am not a bum, psychopath, or general miscreant I have gone out of my way to spoil them with things their parents wouldn’t allow (i.e. drum set, etc.).

I have also always done my best to be a very moral individual outside of the context of organized religion hoping to prove that ‘just you aint got god – don’t mean you can be a good person’ – that’s translated from the Greek.

This weekend I had my oldest ( 10 yr. old) nephew, Tall Boy.

He was dropped off on Saturday morning and I was to return him to the wilderness after the Indians game on Sunday night. For those of you who don’t know – I live in downtown Cleveland, and my brother has hidden his family at my father’s ‘Koresh Institute of Social Dysfunction’ in the part of North Central Ohio that the Amish thought was just a little bit too inconvenient.

He is home schooled for religious reasons, and is generally only allowed social contact with people from their church. This was a big deal, and it turned out to be an outstanding visit.

Saturday morning we went to the West Side Market, our old-world outdoor market, to let him see lamb skulls, whole pigs, and hear more languages being spoken than I am sure he knew existed. There also happened to be an arts and crafts festival going on in the neighborhood with tents lining West 25th street and makeshift easels set up along a side-street for graffiti artists to showcase their work in a healthy fashion – that was cool.

So we bought stuff for lunch, and headed home.

We then went for a walk around the neighborhood and bought ice cream from a really nice Shoppe along the main strip of galleries and boutiques. We stopped in one place that had a small Japanese serenity garden (sandbox with smooth stones and a mini-rake). The Tall Boy put the stones in the corners and raked out perfectly straight lines - then asked what serenity was. . .

Where’s Yoda when you need him?

It was then time to begin the sports segment of our journey. We watched the Browns play their third pre-season game (which they won) and bypassed the free modern dance performance that was going on in the park at the end of my street, mainly cuz I know the company and there was a possibility of me having to ask the Tall Boy to not mention some things he saw there anyway. So we spent the night watching football and I got to explain the difference between a Linebacker and a Safety and why you don’t go for it on 4th and 8.

Much fun.

We woke up to thick sliced bacon from the market, pancakes, and not making him shower before getting ready to go to the game. We then made our way to the corner to catch the bus.

One of the good things about my neighborhood is the public transportation, but one of the bad things about my neighborhood is the people that ride public transportation.

We began our wait for the bus with me being afraid that I was about to scar the Tall Boy into never riding the bus again. We seemed to be at the same stop as a bizarre tribe of white trash females that were beyond genetic analysis.

I spent ten minutes trying to figure out who was the mother of whom. There was one older alpha that was obviously the mother of the second oldest, but beyond that the lines got blurry – and they were all girls, and they looked like they ate their men.

Luckily they wanted a different bus than the Tall Boy and I. Our bus was clean quiet and got us to The Jake in less than 7 minutes.

This is where I get to brag. When The Pickle was born I knew that I would be less likely to show an interest in my brother’s kids as I have in the past – so I went out of my way to plan specific ‘big’ events that would make up for my overall lessening show of affection. I got approval and bought the tickets for this game in February.

Front row seats, in home run alley, in right field . . . awesome.

My family is from Detroit. It’s where my parents were born, met, and I was raised until I was 4. I remember watching the ’84 series on a black and white 13” TV being powered by a gas generator in the middle of the Arizona desert, while oceans of plumbers in the Detroit area with my last name cried openly in public.

When we moved to the Cleveland area in my early teenage years my father would generally take me to sporting events in which the Cleveland team was playing Detroit: Browns vs. Lions, Indians vs. Tigers, Red Wings vs. . . oh that’s right.

It was impossible to not become a Cleveland fan throughout the years. Who couldn’t love Albert Belle?

As a sign of respect, solidarity, and because the Tigers are a much better team than the Indians this year – I wore my Tigers cap instead of an Indians cap. The Tall Boy had me covered by keeping Chief Wahoo displayed on his dome. This way, one of us was always able to cheer.

As it turns out, there were just about as many Tigers fans at the game as Indian’s. This is not that surprising considering the way the seasons have played out so far, but it was shocking to me having watched so many games in The Jake in the glory days of The Tribe. It was odd to hear cheers when ‘The Other’ team did something.

There was a nice young couple from Detroit sitting next to us, and throughout the game the four of us had a blast. They wanted to know where to get food after the game, and I recommended a place just off the beaten ‘post-game’ path to avoid a crowd, and then decided to tag-along with the Tall Boy for fun.

It was really cool giving a tour of downtown to strangers, and simultaneously showing the Tall Boy how to be kind, and not be afraid of everyone you meet. I was a Good Samaritan, host, and uncle all at the same time.

We took The Rapid (the train) back into my neighborhood and walked the eight blocks back to my house.


The Indians lost. We had a blast, and I think the Tall Boy got to see a view of city life that I don’t think he could have imagined.

I am the best uncle ever.

Pickle’s Papa