I wasn't holding a grudge. Not exactly.
But I remembered what happened.
I didn't keep it sitting on the top of my stack of daily worries
where I could review it at will
stewing over the details.
and plotting revenge.
But I knew where it was filed away
just in case I should ever need it
reminding me to never again trust that person too much.
I wasn't supposed to know anything about it in the first place.
It wasn't even about me.
I only knew about it because someone involved trusted me
and let me in on a few details.
I knew I didn't have the whole picture but I knew enough to figure it out.
Or I thought I'd figured out what really happened.
The people involved simply gave in to their weaknesses and made bad decisions.
And my family got caught in the crossfire of their battle.
Nothing we could do to stop it at the time.
In many ways we're still trying to regain our balance.
No, I wouldn't call it a grudge.
But I wasn't letting go of it, either.
Recently, I heard the rest of the story.
It was refreshing to know that my suspicions were correct,
and that those involved recognized their error.
And what it cost us.
There is no going back.
Nothing will really fix it.
Things happen and life goes on.
No need to even talk it out with those involved.
We do the best we can with what we have
and try to make sure that nobody else gets hurt.
No, it wasn't a grudge
exactly.
But somehow, my load is lighter today.
Monday, June 20, 2011
Wednesday, June 01, 2011
My Mother and the Mavericks
My mother passed away on May 28, 2006 after suffering for years with a chronic lung disease. We had a beautiful memorial service for her, which she had planned herself, and shared memories and hugs and tears with family and friends at a reception afterward.
As I was visiting with one of my old friends from grade school during the reception, she invited me to attend the Mavericks game with her that night. A season ticket holder, Ana never missed a home game, and this one was Game Five of the Western Conference finals.
I wasn't sure that was an appropriate way to spend the evening after my mother's memorial service. But when I mentioned it to my brother and my sister they each looked at me, their eyes wide with excitement and said, "GO!" We'd already had time with all the visiting relatives the day before and everyone assured me that my mother would approve. So I accepted Ana's invitation.
Ana picked me up that evening and we went to her favorite sports bar for dinner, watching the first few minutes of the game on the TV screens there since we were running a little late. I told Ana how everyone had said Mom would be delighted that I had a chance to go the game since she had been such a big fan. Ana was astonished to hear that.
"Your mom was a sports fan?!"
Ana knew my mother as a very proper lady who attended church regularly, ran an efficient home and kept everything neat and tidy, even finding time to sew clothes for her daughters. Her childhood memory of my mom was of a sort of June Cleaver for our neighborhood, without the pearls and high heels, sort of a blend of Betty Crocker and Martha Stewart. That was a pretty accurate picture. But I told Ana about my mother's penchant for the old Saturday Night Wrestling shows which she watched on a little black & white TV throughout all three of her pregnancies, a craving that was probably healthier than mine for Dutch Chocolate Blue Bell ice cream.
Mom was a big fan of the Texas Rangers, the Dallas Cowboys and the Dallas Mavericks. She never missed a game on TV, making sure somebody looked up the time and the channel for her when she was bedridden so she wouldn't miss a minute. She'd yell at the players on TV when they were losing and cheer when they were winning. I was sure she was smiling down on me. I became more certain as the evening wore on.
We left the restaurant sometime during the first quarter and made our way through a brief rain shower across downtown to the arena. As the rain let up and the evening sun broke through we saw a double rainbow, from one end to the other, perfectly framing the Dallas skyline. It was so beautiful it took our breath away and Ana turned to me and said, "Donna! It's your mother!"
When we got to the arena, Ana approached the closest parking lot, telling me she never found an open space there and since we were running late it was probably chained off by now anyway. But the lot was open and we found a parking space waiting for us, not far from the entrance to the arena. Again, Ana said, "Donna! It's your mother!"
The Mavericks had been trailing so far in this game against the Phoenix Suns but as we found our seats, they scored and took the lead. And Ana said, "Donna! It's your MOTHER!!" She kept repeating that phrase as Dirk Nowitzki went on to score a total of 50 points during that game, 22 of them in the fourth quarter and the Mavericks won the game 117 - 101.
And it didn't stop then. On our way to the car, Ana stopped to buy a t-shirt. She was hoping to find one particular design in a certain size and was pretty sure they'd be sold out. But they had it in stock. Of course they did. She gave my mom credit for that one, too.
The next morning at breakfast I told my family the story of my mother and the Dallas Mavericks. At first they giggled a bit, but then they sat quietly as, one by one, I related the events of the night before.
They agreed with Ana.
"It was your mother."
As I was visiting with one of my old friends from grade school during the reception, she invited me to attend the Mavericks game with her that night. A season ticket holder, Ana never missed a home game, and this one was Game Five of the Western Conference finals.
I wasn't sure that was an appropriate way to spend the evening after my mother's memorial service. But when I mentioned it to my brother and my sister they each looked at me, their eyes wide with excitement and said, "GO!" We'd already had time with all the visiting relatives the day before and everyone assured me that my mother would approve. So I accepted Ana's invitation.
Ana picked me up that evening and we went to her favorite sports bar for dinner, watching the first few minutes of the game on the TV screens there since we were running a little late. I told Ana how everyone had said Mom would be delighted that I had a chance to go the game since she had been such a big fan. Ana was astonished to hear that.
"Your mom was a sports fan?!"
Ana knew my mother as a very proper lady who attended church regularly, ran an efficient home and kept everything neat and tidy, even finding time to sew clothes for her daughters. Her childhood memory of my mom was of a sort of June Cleaver for our neighborhood, without the pearls and high heels, sort of a blend of Betty Crocker and Martha Stewart. That was a pretty accurate picture. But I told Ana about my mother's penchant for the old Saturday Night Wrestling shows which she watched on a little black & white TV throughout all three of her pregnancies, a craving that was probably healthier than mine for Dutch Chocolate Blue Bell ice cream.
Mom was a big fan of the Texas Rangers, the Dallas Cowboys and the Dallas Mavericks. She never missed a game on TV, making sure somebody looked up the time and the channel for her when she was bedridden so she wouldn't miss a minute. She'd yell at the players on TV when they were losing and cheer when they were winning. I was sure she was smiling down on me. I became more certain as the evening wore on.
We left the restaurant sometime during the first quarter and made our way through a brief rain shower across downtown to the arena. As the rain let up and the evening sun broke through we saw a double rainbow, from one end to the other, perfectly framing the Dallas skyline. It was so beautiful it took our breath away and Ana turned to me and said, "Donna! It's your mother!"
When we got to the arena, Ana approached the closest parking lot, telling me she never found an open space there and since we were running late it was probably chained off by now anyway. But the lot was open and we found a parking space waiting for us, not far from the entrance to the arena. Again, Ana said, "Donna! It's your mother!"
The Mavericks had been trailing so far in this game against the Phoenix Suns but as we found our seats, they scored and took the lead. And Ana said, "Donna! It's your MOTHER!!" She kept repeating that phrase as Dirk Nowitzki went on to score a total of 50 points during that game, 22 of them in the fourth quarter and the Mavericks won the game 117 - 101.
And it didn't stop then. On our way to the car, Ana stopped to buy a t-shirt. She was hoping to find one particular design in a certain size and was pretty sure they'd be sold out. But they had it in stock. Of course they did. She gave my mom credit for that one, too.
The next morning at breakfast I told my family the story of my mother and the Dallas Mavericks. At first they giggled a bit, but then they sat quietly as, one by one, I related the events of the night before.
They agreed with Ana.
"It was your mother."
Kim Crow Adams, Ana Saldana and me at the reception after my mother's memorial service
Saturday, May 07, 2011
Derby Day
It's Derby Day!
When I was a little girl we never missed the Kentucky Derby. It was the only glimpse we got of my mother's home state, that mythical land called "Kentucky".
My mother's stories of her childhood in Kentucky told of mountains and snow, two things we didn't have in suburban Dallas. The closest I usually got to horses was the "Black Stallion" novels in my school library, but I read all of them over and over again.
I loved horses. Still do.
I have a very early memory - I think I was about three years old - of going with my Uncle Marshall to say hello to two horses that lived nearby when he was pastor of a small town church in Central Texas. The horses came right up to the fence and let us pet them. Uncle Marshall said their names were Thunder and Lightning. Since I loved thunderstorms that made me love them even more.
I'm not sure why I've always loved horses. Maybe it's the way they so patiently stand by and let us puny little humans lead them about and faithfully carry us on their backs. Maybe it's the perfect combination of beauty and power so evident as they thunder down the track. But it probably has more to do with their big soft eyes and the way their ears twitch back and forth as they listen to our voices and their soft noses that nuzzle their people.
When I was in sixth grade I used to visit my friend, Tricia, who lived closer to the edge of town where they could keep a horse. Half horse, half Welsh pony, Babe wasn't that big as horses go. Sleepovers at Tricia's house meant big trees, dogs, cats, an illusive, screaming peacock and riding Babe bareback. I did lose my balance and fall off once but I got right back on her and rode some more.
I've had a couple of other opportunities to ride horses (not bareback), usually at a slow walk or an easy trot. But just once, the horse I was riding broke into an easy gallop. It was only for a few strides but I loved that feeling of power and freedom.
Recently, when the movie "Secretariat" came out, I searched YouTube and let my daughter watch Secretariat run those Triple Crown races. She was in awe, just as I had been when I watched them the first time around. Best. Horse. Ever.
So today I'll be watching the Kentucky Derby and remembering my mother's voice singing along with "My Old Kentucky Home".
Happy Mother's Day, Mom.
When I was a little girl we never missed the Kentucky Derby. It was the only glimpse we got of my mother's home state, that mythical land called "Kentucky".
My mother's stories of her childhood in Kentucky told of mountains and snow, two things we didn't have in suburban Dallas. The closest I usually got to horses was the "Black Stallion" novels in my school library, but I read all of them over and over again.
I loved horses. Still do.
I have a very early memory - I think I was about three years old - of going with my Uncle Marshall to say hello to two horses that lived nearby when he was pastor of a small town church in Central Texas. The horses came right up to the fence and let us pet them. Uncle Marshall said their names were Thunder and Lightning. Since I loved thunderstorms that made me love them even more.
I'm not sure why I've always loved horses. Maybe it's the way they so patiently stand by and let us puny little humans lead them about and faithfully carry us on their backs. Maybe it's the perfect combination of beauty and power so evident as they thunder down the track. But it probably has more to do with their big soft eyes and the way their ears twitch back and forth as they listen to our voices and their soft noses that nuzzle their people.
When I was in sixth grade I used to visit my friend, Tricia, who lived closer to the edge of town where they could keep a horse. Half horse, half Welsh pony, Babe wasn't that big as horses go. Sleepovers at Tricia's house meant big trees, dogs, cats, an illusive, screaming peacock and riding Babe bareback. I did lose my balance and fall off once but I got right back on her and rode some more.
I've had a couple of other opportunities to ride horses (not bareback), usually at a slow walk or an easy trot. But just once, the horse I was riding broke into an easy gallop. It was only for a few strides but I loved that feeling of power and freedom.
Recently, when the movie "Secretariat" came out, I searched YouTube and let my daughter watch Secretariat run those Triple Crown races. She was in awe, just as I had been when I watched them the first time around. Best. Horse. Ever.
So today I'll be watching the Kentucky Derby and remembering my mother's voice singing along with "My Old Kentucky Home".
Happy Mother's Day, Mom.
Watch this video Secretariat's Kentucky Derby win and YouTube will automatically play his Preakness and Belmont races,too.
Tuesday, May 03, 2011
May 1st
May 1st will be remembered by many as the day Osama Bin Ladin was killed just as another generation remembers it as the day of Hitler's death. But a friend of mine will remember it as the day her mother died. Make that two friends.
For weeks I've been in touch with a friend I met on Twitter as she has cared for her dying mother, trying to offer some encouragement as I remember my own mother's long struggle before a chronic lung disease finally took her life. Late Sunday night my friend let me know that her mother had passed away. That same night I signed into Facebook and read that one of my old high school friends had lost her mother that day, too.
I watched all the news on TV about the death of Osama Bin Ladin and I thought about my two friends and I could not bring myself to celebrate death.
Anyone's death.
I thought about the Navy Seals who had trained for this mission and did the job they were sent to do. I understand why they did it and I have to say that I felt a sense of relief that this man would no longer be able to spread death far and wide and incite hatred throughout the world.
But I have no wish to join the ranks of those whose response to these events is to cheer as though they were at a high school football game.
Instead, I hope
I will continue to do
what I try to do
every day.
Where there are differences,
seek peace and understanding.
Where there is pain and emptiness,
spread love.
Where there is despair,
share hope for a better tomorrow.
And as God gives me opportunities,
lead others to do the same.
For weeks I've been in touch with a friend I met on Twitter as she has cared for her dying mother, trying to offer some encouragement as I remember my own mother's long struggle before a chronic lung disease finally took her life. Late Sunday night my friend let me know that her mother had passed away. That same night I signed into Facebook and read that one of my old high school friends had lost her mother that day, too.
I watched all the news on TV about the death of Osama Bin Ladin and I thought about my two friends and I could not bring myself to celebrate death.
Anyone's death.
I thought about the Navy Seals who had trained for this mission and did the job they were sent to do. I understand why they did it and I have to say that I felt a sense of relief that this man would no longer be able to spread death far and wide and incite hatred throughout the world.
But I have no wish to join the ranks of those whose response to these events is to cheer as though they were at a high school football game.
Instead, I hope
I will continue to do
what I try to do
every day.
Where there are differences,
seek peace and understanding.
Where there is pain and emptiness,
spread love.
Where there is despair,
share hope for a better tomorrow.
And as God gives me opportunities,
lead others to do the same.
Friday, April 22, 2011
Wide-angle vs. Telephoto
It's been years since I worked for a university PR department and hefted my twenty pound camera bag up to my shoulder, taking off across the campus to shoot a groundbreaking or a basketball game or a student assembly. But it's amazing how my mind still defaults to photography metaphors.
This week was a stressful one for me. For a couple of days it seemed that all I could see was a wide angle view of dead or dying possibilities for my own life, like a panorama of a dry and barren desert.
The more I studied the picture the worse I felt. It's comforting to know that with so many other families currently in job-hunting mode like mine I'm in good company. But comfort won't pay the bills. So many choices are out of my hands and it seems there is precious little I can actually control these days.
When I can't make sense of the big picture, it's time to change lenses.
I reached into my virtual camera bag and exchanged my wide angle lens for a telephoto. Instead of the looming forest of trouble I tried zooming in on just one tree at a time.
Sometimes stress fills the frame until it's all you can see.
The longer you look at it
the worse you feel
and the harder it is to cope.
Maybe you're looking at a long list of troubles, feeling like you'll never fix them all. But you can take a step toward fixing just one.
It could be a step in the right direction.
While you can't get anywhere by ignoring problems or side-stepping them, you can develop selective focus. You decide what to focus on and how long you'll stare.
It's your choice.
What do you see when you look at this photo...
the dead leaves...
the cactus thorns...
or the flower?
Saturday, April 16, 2011
NYC: Lost and Found, Part Four
The story of my weekend in New York City pales in comparison to the news we received this week of the cancellation of All My Children and One Life to Live. Twitter and Facebook have been abuzz with heartbroken soap fans consoling each other and sharing memories since the news was announced. A part of me feels like it's silly to write about anything else right now.
But then it occurred to me that I went to New York because of a soap opera, to attend a fan luncheon for a soap opera actress, Jessica Leccia. I visited with friends I'd met from all over the world because of our shared love of soap operas and the people who make them.
What better way to celebrate this wonderful, truly life-changing genre than by telling the rest of my story?
During the weeks leading up to our weekend in New York City, Denise, Lynn and I had decided to stay an extra day so we could visit Peapack, the site of the Guiding Light location shoots. But when Sunday arrived we considered how much time we'd spend on the train getting to and from Peapack and the fact that we'd have another three hour train ride later than night to my home in Maryland, and we decided to spend that time in the city after all.
Denise and I walked to the Westway Diner (the same place we'd had dinner Friday night) to meet her friend, Bettie (@bettielaven), whom I'd met when I came to New York for the Venice event at the RF Lounge back in October. (Bettie was the one who had hailed a taxi to take me back to my hotel!) We were soon joined for a late brunch by Lynn and Lia (@giftofamber). By the time we finished, Jill had made enough progress on her work during the morning that she gave herself the afternoon off and came to meet us there.
It doesn't matter to me where we go when I'm walking with Jill in New York because I know wherever we end up will be new to me and there are so many fascinating things to see along the way. But Jill always asks, “Where do you want to go? Is there anything in particular you want to see?” And once again, I tell her, “I don't care, I only come to New York to see you!” She always laughs as though nothing could be more ridiculous. Why would anybody want to see her?
But as I'm hanging back from the others a little, stopping now and then to take a picture, I see how we are all just glad to be there with her. We answer her questions about our everyday lives and eagerly pick up little tidbits she happens to toss out about Guiding Light or people whose names we know well but have never met. She is quick to point out what each of us have in common with people she has known for years, famous or otherwise. Jill is fascinated by people and loves hearing their stories.
Jill took us to 48th Street where her husband, Tony, told her we'll find guitar stores. During my last visit in October, Jill & I had passed a store with beautiful guitars in the display window... electrics and acoustics, some new and some vintage... and I stopped dead in my tracks and just stared. It was Matt Umanov's Guitars. I'd seen their ads in Vintage Guitar magazine. We went inside and I did some more staring and I pointed out a Martin D-15 that was like mine.
I've been playing guitar since I was a teenager and used to play and sing for my church and other groups quite often. Not particularly well, and I don't play in public much anymore but it can be like therapy for me to take out my guitar and play even for a few minutes. I had told Jill a story about a guitar I'd bought for a song, literally. The original owner asked only that I teach him a song he'd heard me play and sing once. And on this day, Jill wanted to find a guitar store for me.
We stopped at Sam Ash and Jill told me to go on in and they'd wait there for a bit. So I did. I went through the store and up the stairs in the back where all the acoustic guitars were. Across the length of the showroom was a smaller room with the lights lowered and fine acoustic guitars lining the walls. Martins, Gibsons, some new, some vintage. I could have spent hours there.
I spotted a small bodied Gibson that I'm pretty sure was like one that had belonged to my dad's Uncle Floyd. It had come us when he died and my brother used it when he took guitar lessons. I took piano lessons, not guitar, but I remember spying on my brother's lessons as he was learning how to play that guitar, taught by a family friend. Unfortunately, the guitar was very old and too warped to play by the time I started learning and I never did play a Gibson L1.
Until that day in Sam Ash.
The man working there handed me the guitar and I sat on a stool and started to play. In a few minutes Denise showed up and picked out another guitar and started to play, too. Then the others filtered in one by one. I played and sang a song I used to do for groups about where you go when you've come the end of your road. I played Jill a little bit of the song that bought me that old guitar I'd told her about. Bad allergies have lowered my vocal range considerably and I can't reach the high notes anymore so I spared them the misery of listening to the whole song!
Many thanks to Jason Jenkins, a very accomplished musician who showed us what guitar playing really sounds like and gave us a mini-lesson in the different types of wood used to make some of the guitars on display. And many thanks to Jill, Denise, Bettie and Lia who let me take up part of their afternoon indulging my musical fantasies!
From there we followed Jill to Grand Central Station, a place she said everybody should see. I agree. Jill, Denise & Lee stayed put at the top of the stairs, giving Lynn and I a little time to take a few pictures of that beautiful place we'd seen in so many movies. I turned at the bottom of the stairs to look up at the group and took a few pictures of them, too. Each of us from different backgrounds, different states and one from New Brunswick, Canada, I took a moment to smile at our diversity before we went downstairs to rest and warm up a bit with hot chocolate and cheesecake.
Throughout the afternoon I heard stories from each person in turn, about their life and the people they've met and the stories they wanted to tell in their writings. There in the Dining Concourse of Grand Central Station we heard about the time that Bettie met Eartha Kitt in a hotel lobby in London. It's a wonderful story, but I'll let her tell it. We heard more from Jill about Guiding Light and talked about Crystal Chappell and how she had been overlooked for an Emmy pre-nom. And we continued our conversation about writing and soaps and what might have been.
With just a couple of hours to go until time for us to get to Penn Station, Jill and I left the others to have dinner on our own and get caught up. I told her all the news about my husband and daughters and we talked about personal projects and hopes and dreams. I told her about going to see “Love, Loss and What I Wore” and about the growing urgency I feel about writing my book, a project I never really thought I could take on until Jill believed in me.
We didn't solve any great mysteries of the universe but when it was time to go I felt encouraged, challenged and hopeful and I hope she did, too.
I took a taxi back to the hotel to meet Denise and Lynn where we gathered our bags and went on to Penn Station to catch our train. Once we were aboard, Lynn proved that her claims of being able to sleep anywhere are valid. I think she was asleep before the train left the station. Meanwhile, Denise and I tweeted and talked all the way.
It was well after midnight when our train finally arrived in New Carrollton, having been delayed a bit along the way and I was delighted to see my husband waiting for us on the platform. I got my guests settled in Daughter #1's old room and headed for bed myself, telling them I'd try not to wake them up when I got Daughter #2 up at 5:30am to get ready for school (I always go back to bed for a couple more hours!).
The next morning I heard my guests laughing. It seems the view of the lamp in their bedroom gave these two lesbians the giggles. I can't imagine why....
I took Denise and Lynn to Historic Downtown Annapolis for a brief tour, pointing out my favorite views from the Severn River Bridge. I drove them around our little town, driving them past the statehouse and the Naval Academy's Gate One and telling them a bit about our history, then parked the car so we could walk around City Dock. I wish we'd had more time but at least they got a little taste of the place before we had to drop Denise off at BWI airport for her flight home. Lynn and I drove back to Annapolis so she could take a few more pictures and get some souvenirs before time to pick up Daughter #2 at school. Then the two of us took Lynn to the New Carrollton Amtrak station and waited with her until it was time for her train to leave. (I recommend you stop by Lynn's blog and see her pictures of Annaplis because she got some great shots.)
It was a remarkable weekend spent making memories with amazing friends. All because I watch soap operas and they do, too. Because it's not about the plot or the stunts, it's about relationships. That's why we care. Because we've watched those relationships grow and change over the years and when we find someone else who watches, too, we feel a connection with them because they've taken that journey with us.
We're all part of the family.
I'm ready for another family reunion.
How about you?
How about you?
Wednesday, April 06, 2011
NYC: Lost and Found, Part Three
(Part One of this New York adventure can be found here and Part Two is here. Click on the photos to see them larger.)
Jessica had agreed to do a few reenactments of her scenes as Natalia, Inez and Ani. Those who might have requested a reenactment of the shower scene from Venice were disappointed but volunteers were found for three other scenes: the rooftop encounter between Ani & Lara and Gina & Tracy (Venice), Inez confronts Eddie and slaps him (OLTL), and the Otalia spa fight (GL).
My personal favorite was the spa fight with Desiree Pernaselci (@DesireePernasel on Twitter) playing the part of Olivia. Napkins took the place of the bras that were flung in the original scene and both Desiree and Jessica substituted some great zingers for the original dialog! I thought the best one was “Olivia's” crack about a chastity belt and “Natalia's” comeback: “I was gonna give you the key!”
Let me just say that I was delighted a few months ago when I saw Crystal Chappell ask Desiree, via Twitter, to be in Season 3 of Venice. Now that I've seen this little bit of improv, I can't wait to see what she'll be doing! And I really wish somebody would cast Jessica in a primetime sitcom because her comic timing is right on the money!
After the scene reenactments were over we had more time for talking with Jessica and taking pictures. Brian showed up to join in the fun, too. And when Jill Lorie Hurst arrived I think I heard a genuine “Squeee!” from Jessica who greeted her with a huge hug. It was obvious that they were delighted to see each other again! As they were talking I had several of my friends, who knew that I knew Jill, come up to me and ask, “Is that Jill Lorie Hurst? I would love to meet her!” So I had the honor of introducing them, giving my friends a chance to tell Jill how much her work has meant to them and giving Jill a chance to see that she really does have her own fanbase!
When the luncheon was officially over we went back upstairs and Denise, Lynn, and I talked with Jill, Jessica and Brian. Jessica said she'd seen me being all “ninja-photographer”, suddenly appearing out of nowhere to shoot a picture with no flash, then disappear again. Brian demonstrated the way I'd slowly peeked around someone to see if I had a good angle, then disappeared again without taking the shot. Then Jessica started doing it, too, and we were cracking up! Wish I'd gotten a picture of that! I explained to them that when I worked as a photographer years ago in Texas I was doing PR photography on a small Baptist campus and I was often shooting in worship services there and for my church. I learned to get my shots without disturbing anyone, shooting with no flash, just available light. It was good training if you want to be a ninja-photographer!
When the luncheon was over Denise, Lynn and I left with Jill, walking to who knows where. I never care where we're going because Jill always knows interesting places to go and it's all about the time with friends, anyway. We got as far as Union Square park and found a bench there so we could sit and talk for a while and decide where to go next. Lynn took a couple of pictures of Jill, Denise and I while we were there. We decided on an early dinner and Jill found a great little diner where Lynn presented her with a copy of the Otalia Virtual Season, Season 1. Jill said she'd wait to read it until she finishes her writing for Venice since those characters were already in her head.
After dinner Jill had things to do at home so we made plans to meet the next day. The three of us went back to the hotel but didn't stay long. Denise took us walking through her old stomping grounds in the theater district while Lynn and I took pictures of nighttime in New York. We stopped for a moment at the Marquis Theater Stage Door and she told us a bit about why that one was special to her:
We walked through Times Square and on to Rockefeller Center to watch the skaters, taking pictures all the way. I still have more to edit, but I'll share a few of my favorites here. I spotted a couple of familiar faces in the crowd and grabbed a quick shot... can you spot Cutter and Joey from One Life to Live?
Jessica had agreed to do a few reenactments of her scenes as Natalia, Inez and Ani. Those who might have requested a reenactment of the shower scene from Venice were disappointed but volunteers were found for three other scenes: the rooftop encounter between Ani & Lara and Gina & Tracy (Venice), Inez confronts Eddie and slaps him (OLTL), and the Otalia spa fight (GL).
My personal favorite was the spa fight with Desiree Pernaselci (@DesireePernasel on Twitter) playing the part of Olivia. Napkins took the place of the bras that were flung in the original scene and both Desiree and Jessica substituted some great zingers for the original dialog! I thought the best one was “Olivia's” crack about a chastity belt and “Natalia's” comeback: “I was gonna give you the key!”
Let me just say that I was delighted a few months ago when I saw Crystal Chappell ask Desiree, via Twitter, to be in Season 3 of Venice. Now that I've seen this little bit of improv, I can't wait to see what she'll be doing! And I really wish somebody would cast Jessica in a primetime sitcom because her comic timing is right on the money!
After the scene reenactments were over we had more time for talking with Jessica and taking pictures. Brian showed up to join in the fun, too. And when Jill Lorie Hurst arrived I think I heard a genuine “Squeee!” from Jessica who greeted her with a huge hug. It was obvious that they were delighted to see each other again! As they were talking I had several of my friends, who knew that I knew Jill, come up to me and ask, “Is that Jill Lorie Hurst? I would love to meet her!” So I had the honor of introducing them, giving my friends a chance to tell Jill how much her work has meant to them and giving Jill a chance to see that she really does have her own fanbase!
When the luncheon was officially over we went back upstairs and Denise, Lynn, and I talked with Jill, Jessica and Brian. Jessica said she'd seen me being all “ninja-photographer”, suddenly appearing out of nowhere to shoot a picture with no flash, then disappear again. Brian demonstrated the way I'd slowly peeked around someone to see if I had a good angle, then disappeared again without taking the shot. Then Jessica started doing it, too, and we were cracking up! Wish I'd gotten a picture of that! I explained to them that when I worked as a photographer years ago in Texas I was doing PR photography on a small Baptist campus and I was often shooting in worship services there and for my church. I learned to get my shots without disturbing anyone, shooting with no flash, just available light. It was good training if you want to be a ninja-photographer!
When the luncheon was over Denise, Lynn and I left with Jill, walking to who knows where. I never care where we're going because Jill always knows interesting places to go and it's all about the time with friends, anyway. We got as far as Union Square park and found a bench there so we could sit and talk for a while and decide where to go next. Lynn took a couple of pictures of Jill, Denise and I while we were there. We decided on an early dinner and Jill found a great little diner where Lynn presented her with a copy of the Otalia Virtual Season, Season 1. Jill said she'd wait to read it until she finishes her writing for Venice since those characters were already in her head.
After dinner Jill had things to do at home so we made plans to meet the next day. The three of us went back to the hotel but didn't stay long. Denise took us walking through her old stomping grounds in the theater district while Lynn and I took pictures of nighttime in New York. We stopped for a moment at the Marquis Theater Stage Door and she told us a bit about why that one was special to her:
The Marquis Theatre stage door IS NY to me for a lot of reasons. It's where a lot of really important events in my life have happened, from the birth of the website I run (MeganHiltyOnline.com) to the start of several incredibly important friendships. It's where I said goodbye to the first Broadway show I was with as fan and supporter from virtually its first preview performance until it's last moment on a Broadway stage (9 to 5). It's where the life I have now really came to be. Every time I come to New York, I walk past the Marquis stage door, and if he's there, I give the stage door manager Rey a big hug and catch up on what's been going on at the theater. It's like visiting a childhood home - I can never go back, but I will never, ever forget how it shaped who I am.
We walked through Times Square and on to Rockefeller Center to watch the skaters, taking pictures all the way. I still have more to edit, but I'll share a few of my favorites here. I spotted a couple of familiar faces in the crowd and grabbed a quick shot... can you spot Cutter and Joey from One Life to Live?
Only one more day left of my weekend in NYC so come back for Part Four for the rest of the tale!
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