Net Cotton Content

In Praise of Arnett

Arnett Howard has "bowed out" of The Odd Couple.

My friend and teacher — and accomplished director, actor and founding member of Available Light [Theatre] — Ian Short will step into the role...and perform on opening night one week from tonight.

Now that's drama!

But, first, let us celebrate Arnett:

• For taking the creative leap out of his comfortable realm. He's an accomplished educator, popular bandleader, virtuoso musician, published author, community leader. He took a leap into acting. What a wonderful spirit and sense of adventure.
• For working hard in unfamiliar territory. He gave it a great effort. He really threw himself into the play's largest role.
• For making a hard, artistic decision.

What would life be like if we did only those things we knew we could accomplish? We would under-reach. We would under accomplish.

Daniel Pink recommends that we actively seek to make "brilliant mistakes" — so that our daring will pay off in large, unexpected ways. When have you taken a risk at making such a brilliant mistake?

I salute Arnett Howard for being courageous enough to try something that didn't quite work.

He's a role model to be celebrated.

This is art, friends, not surgery. Art is where we are supposed to try things that we might not be able to do.

What is this Available Light?

So, why, you might ask, am I so enthusiastic about Available Light [Theatre]?

Here's why:

1. Matt Slaybaugh. This young man is a devoted theatre entrepreneur. As the artistic director of Available Light, Matt is devoted to learning and teaching. He's earnest, thoughtful, trustworthy, and charismatic. He's the opposite of swine flu, but just as infectious. Proof of infection: he's attracted a company of vigorous, talented, fabulous theatre professionals: actors, directors, producers of stagecraft — from lighting to sound — and some very worthy board members.


2. The Artistic Vision. Available Light believes in the higher calling of theatre. That is, theatre can — and should — be more than entertainment. Theatre has the power to also educate, enlighten, and — get this! — engage. So Available Light presents works that entertain (of course) and educate (yes) and enlighten (sure!) — but audiences also leave the theater vaguely uncomfortable.

Vague Discomfort? That's good?
Golly, gee willikers, yes, that's good.

The vague discomfort is based on a challenge. Each show is designed to leave the audience with a haunting question.

Haunting questions, yes. But not haunting for the sake of haunting. These questions linger in the mind and soul in order to motivate and inspire us. To take action. To become more engaged citizens. It's the economy, my friend. Or the environment. Or the preciousness of time. Or the importance of relationships. Or the true meaning of the pursuit of happiness.

These are questions that can — and do — change lives. Audience members tell us: "Available Light has changed my life." (And for the better. There are no lawsuits pending.)

After all: our purpose on this planet must surely be something more than comfort, no?

Even though our consumer culture constantly suggests that our own comfort is the goal, please tell me self-satisfaction is not your ultimate goal for which you strive. There must be a more important purpose for our lives. Please tell me there is a more profound meaning for your life.

Please!

Why This Unusual Name: "Available Light"?
The back story: without a home theatre, this theatre company performs wherever the light is available.

So it is named "Available Light [Theatre]."

The [brackets] I can't explain. It's a 33rd Degree theatre thing. I'm not there yet.

Theatre For All.
When theatre does more than entertain, when it entertains and also creates engaged citizens, it must be made accessible to both the economically fortunate and the economically unfortunate.

That's why — throughout Available Light's artistic season, including plays and readings — all tickets are sold for the (somewhat awkward) price of "Pay What You Want."

At the box office, some folks pay in nickles. Some folks give us hundreds.

Then they sit side by side, becoming enlightened in the dark, without knowing who paid what.

It's like sitting next to someone on an airplane and wondering what she paid for her ticket. (Except this is a nice thing. With bigger restrooms.)

"Pay What You Want" is more than a clever marketing idea. It makes theatre — and the engagement it creates — available for all.

Available Light for all.

You Can Participate

• Come to The Odd Couple — it's next week! Buy a ticket. (There is a minimum price for tickets for The Odd Couple, because this is our biggest annual fundraiser for Available Light. But it's the least expensive fundraiser in town. And still tremendously affordable theatre.) 
• Tell friends about Available Light. Here's how.
• Become a patron. Here's how.
• Sign up for notices about upcoming shows and free readings.
• Purchase an inexpensive "membership," which gives you admission (for you and any friend) to all shows for a year. Here's how.

Satisfy Yourself By Changing The World.
Wondering what you're hungry for? Come to Available Light. We're just what you want to do. And we need your help. We need everyone.

Being Felix

In the early days of this production of The Odd Couple, I read — aloud — the lines for Oscar Madison.

And I came to a surprisingly haunting conclusion. Here goes...

The superego says, "Be Oscar."
The world — my parents, my teachers, my communities, my early employers — have always wanted me to Be Oscar. Oscar is affable, daring, a hale fellow well met, taking the world as it comes.

That's what the world has always wanted me to be. More to the point, the world has rewarded me for being Oscar: courageous in the face of challenge, spontaneously winging it, grinning confidently in the face of any result.

Of course, in hindsight, perhaps the world wanted me to be more like Felix: dutiful, exacting, prepared, sensitive, respectful of hierarchy and tradition.

What Am I?
The haunting conclusion: I am truly Felix, but I have lived a life of pretending to be Oscar.

As life unfolds, I recognize the Felix in me. He has issues, yes, and each and every one of them speak to me like an old friend I'd neglected for decades.

In the meantime, for the past several decades, I have fraudulently presented myself to the world — and to the mirror — as Oscar.

And, frankly, I've become quite good at Being Oscar.

At this point, it seems easier for me to fraudulently speak the lines of Oscar than to speak the lines of Felix in truth.

So What?
After the madness of this play is concluded, I'm going to have a lot to think about.

For now, I have to tap my inner Felix. And, today, I have to get "off book."

I encourage you to get your tickets. The show opens and closes within the next two weeks.

Buy your tickets for The Odd Couple now

Rehearsals are hot and heavy here at The Odd Couple.

Arnett Howard is sloppy, lovable Oscar Madison.

I have always been persnickety Felix Ungar.

The entire cast is a delight of talent and energy.

Now is the time to get your tickets.
The show opens in less than two weeks.

1. Look at your calendar. We will be on stage May 7-9 at 8 p.m. and May 10 at 2 p.m.
2. Buy your tickets now by clicking here.
3. Come to the theater for the show. The Odd Couple will be staged in downtown Columbus in the Shedd Theatre at 549 Franklin Avenue in what is often called The Davis Performing Arts Center.

Want to help?
Please take a moment right now to tell your friends about The Odd Couple. Just forward this message. (Please, please, puh-lease!)

Why should your friends come to The Odd Couple?

1. They need to laugh. Oh, baby, do they need to laugh. If you don't know why I'm suggesting this, call a friend and ask, "In this world, such as it is, do you need to laugh?"
2. The relationship between Oscar and Felix is more than funny — it's about you and your friends. This classic portrait of two friends — there for each other in times of fun and times of need — is the story of all our true friendships. Your friends can learn how to become even better friends by exploring this relationship on stage. (And, really: isn't it high time for your friends to become better friends?)
3. You're going, so it would be nice to share the experience with your friends. After all, if The Odd Couple is good enough for you, it's surely good enough for your friends.

Please go ahead right now and buy tickets (and perhaps be a patron) for The Odd Couple. Again, just click here.

Balls In The Air

There's a little stress around here now at Net Cotton Content.

I'm happy and productive, but I'm feeling the stress.

Why?
We're getting real close to the (now) annual Thang, where I perform on stage in a play. The Odd Couple opens in less than three weeks. (I call it a "Thang," because I don't really know how else to describe it.)

And I have got to learn my lines. No foolin'. We are required to be "off book" — no more carrying the script in rehearsal —  by next Sunday.

Everything else about grabbing the role of Felix Ungar was great. Memorizing the lines is not great. I'm apprehensive.

That's the stress.

What to do about stress?
I'm a big believer in First Things First.

That is: if I really want to get something done, I should start the day doing it. Before breakfast. That way, if I get nothing else done all day, at least I've made headway on Ambition #1.

My creativity students at Ohio State start every day writing morning pages. There are other — more significant — aspects to writing Morning Pages in the, er, mornings, but one of them surely is: if you start every morning working on your creativity, you will know all day long that you have worked on your creativity today.

So, for the next couple weeks, I must start every day with my nose in the script, rather than adding Net Cotton Content.

But What About Net Cotton Content?
Usually, writing to you, here, is the start of most days. Because this — whatever this is — is Ambition #1.

Now, however, as a juggler with only so much developed skill, I need to be careful how many balls are in the air.

Speaking of Balls In The Air
My friend Mark finds himself in the basketball technology business. He sent me to the following video.

I don't know much about basketball. (I know it when I see it. And I admire the skills. That's about it.)

Mark said, "The ball handling skills of the NBA-level players is extraordinary, super-human, technically unbelievable." And he suggested this video.

I've added the second video, because Michael Moeschen is my idea of the NBA. I once saw him juggle — at the re-opening of our beloved Southern Theatre.

Your View Of My Life
You might wonder why I'm doing all the crazy things I'm doing. You might wonder how I do them. (Then again, you might not care. You might have your own problems.)

I think that Moeschen's definition of juggling, from the audience's perspective, perfectly describes one person's perspective of another person's complex life — because a full life appears to be a juggling performance:

It looks like a mess.
It looks like a mess with a guy there who's got his hands around that mess.
OK.
Well, that's what juggling is about.
Being able to do something that others can't do or can't understand.

(You can get a full screen view by clicking on the little box — to the right of "...spreading.")

This is all my way of saying that my writing will be less frequent for a while. But I'm still juggling, best I can.

On Going To Funerals

Today, I'm attending the funeral of Peter Mykrantz, Sr., a beloved father of a best friend, the now departed spouse of the woman who married Alisa and me, a father figure in my own life.

As Duncan McCurrach observed, Peter Mykrantz, Sr. — "Big Pete" to several, "Big Man" to my own family — was always asking us what we were doing. He just knew in his bones that we were up to something, that some secret plan was hatching — and he wanted to know what it was.

So he would say, in a very genial way, "All right. What's going on? I can tell you all are up to something. It might be no good. What's going on?" We'd smile and shrug. "C'mon, now," he'd say. "You're hatching some sort of plan, now, aren't you? What's The Plan?"

It wasn't that he wanted to kill The Plan. To the contrary, he was smiling, enjoying the idea of us having a plan, especially one with creative texture. He just wanted to know what The Plan was. Perhaps he wanted to join The Plan.

But in the ages old tradition of children not confessing everything to their parents, he never quite found out the outer edges of any one evening's plan.

Well, as I type, Duncan McCurrach is on an airplane on his way to town for the funeral. We'd chatted about his coming — and I'm glad he is.

Looks like The Plan is hatching, once again. If Peter were here, he'd want to know The Plan. And, depending on your theology, perhaps Peter will finally see The Plan unfold: a giant reunion of his friends.

So Many Have Made The Calculation.
When someone I know dies, there is this immediate calculation: should I go to the funeral?

The variables swarm: closeness to the deceased, closeness to the mourners. Am I close enough to go?

In Jewish tradition, the mourners are: spouse, children, parents, and siblings. The rest of us form the supportive community around them.

There are self-conscious considerations: How will it look if I attend? How will it look if I miss this service?

There are practical, commercial, professional considerations: What will it cost (especially for out-of-town funerals)? Should I cancel my other plans?

I Seem To Attend A Lot Of Funerals.
Partly this is because I live in the town of my birth. So, when someone I once knew dies, it's relatively convenient for me to go.

Also, ever since my father died, I've read the obituaries. At his funeral, I became aware how many people watch the obits and show up or write a note to express their care.

And, because I live in the same town with my mother, I get to accompany her to a few that I might not otherwise attend.

I Have Never Regretted Going To A Funeral.
I'm sorry there had to be a funeral, of course.

But funerals are learning experiences:

• You can learn about the deceased in a very expressive, loving way. Sometimes, in our passion for praising the dead, the deceased can be described inaccurately. At my father's funeral, a dear, teary-eyed mutual friend said to me, "Your father never said an ill word about anyone." I thought: "You knew my father better than that. He was a loving respectful guy. But for 30 years, his workmates called him Dr. Zing for his ability to fire off insults."
• You can get some material. You'll hear philosophy, theology, history. Recently, I wrote about the comedy I picked up at Harry Hofheimer's funeral.
• You can be a member of a community. Too much of our lives are spent in solitary pursuit. At a funeral we stand together for a worthy purpose.
• You'll be reminded of your own mortality. That's not much fun, but it can be motivating.

And — oh yes, the most important — you can, just by appearing and signing the book, express your support of the mourners. You can help remind them that they are not alone, during a time when they feel so very diminished.

May Peter Mykrantz's name remain a blessing for all of us who knew and loved him.

Now Is The Time For "Dirty Math"

Dirty Math opened last night. It looks great. It's ready for you.

Want A Little Education In Your Theatre?
Dirty Math runs through April 11 at the Riffe Center's Theatre 2. This week and next. That's it.

Here's a sneak peak.

Here's the official Dirty Math website.