Outlander

Well, folks it has finally happened.  My play, "Outlander" is currently in rehearsals at the Parkway Playhouse in Burnsville, N. C.  The play will premiere on June 2ed and will continue through June 16. In case you do not know, the play is about the creation of the Great Smokies National Park and focuses on historic characters like Horace Kephart and Granville Calhoun.  The play has an original musical score written by Frank Lee.  Lots of music, a bit of dancing and some serious drama as people struggle to cope with the loss of their land.  I'll try to keep this blog alive with information and photos from the show.  Please post comments and questions.  The shot above is from the scene in which Kephart first ventures into the woods surrounding Granville Calhoun's home and encounters an astonishing variety of plant life.  More to come!

I haven't been able to attend the rehearsals and it breaks my heart.  I do have some friends who are taking me to the Playhouse on Monday, May 28th to a tech rehearsal, so I will get to see the play walk around before the premiere.  I talk to Andrew Gall, the director, daily and some of the cast has
been in contact with me.  There is much discussion about the dialogue and some necessary editing.

THE SAGA OF BOOGER, MY CAT

BOOGER

I found Booger at the Coffee Shop some fifteen years ago - a tiny kitten with only one eye open, and although I could easily cover her with one hand, I couldn’t muffle the anguished MEEOOW! that she produced. It was like the cry of some tortured soul in hell, filled with equal parts of despair and terror. She had matted, multi-colored fur and when I cupped her to the shoulder of my jacket, she sank her tiny claws deep into the fabric and clung there like a small wad of velcro. Something had plucked her from a bleak and uncertain fate and she had no intention of letting go.

I opened the back door of the Coffee Shop and caught the eye of the short-order cook at the grill.
“Is it okay if I take this kitten?”
The cook laughed. “Are you kidding? That screech was getting on my nerves.”

So, Booger came home with me. She only stopped giving her heartfelt lamentation when I pried her off my jacket and forced her mouth into a saucer of milk. I think she underwent a kind of “instant weaning,” but she figured it out. Then, she slept in my pocket the rest of the day, emitting a loud, rumbling purr ... a sound that, like her cry of distress, seemed abnormally loud for such a small creature.

There was a major problem with Booger’s becoming a part of my household - Jack, my Jack Russell. However, I thought I had a solution.
Booger would be a barn cat. I would create a perfect environment in my old abandoned barn, complete with food, an old tattered blanket and an endless supply of mice. But when I deposited Booger in her new home, she was immediately unhappy, emitting a yodel of misery that followed me back to the house. I told myself that she would adjust, and I would come each day with Friskies and love.

It didn’t work, of course. When I returned the following day, Booger was gone. I searched through the saw briars and broom sage around the barn, leaving food and milk in the old feed-room. After three days, I gave up hoping that she had found her way to a neighbor’s house where she was now warm and content. I found (heard) her a week later in the old garden, covered with beggar lice and terrified. It took me several hours to clean her up, tugging each sticky burr from her fur while she continued to give that anguished cry. Although she endued the “cleansing,” she obviously considered the ordeal a personal attack. I don’t think she ever forgave me for that.

Eventually, we worked out a living arrangement. Booger lived in the attic and since Jack was afraid of steps, she was beyond his reach. Although she left each day, vanishing into the dense woods above my old farmhouse, she returned each night,exploding through Jack’s “doggie door” entrance in the bathroom and racing to the top of the stairs where she sat giving Jack and I a baleful stare. Obviously, we were not to be trusted. She only visited her food dish after we were in the bed. We lived like that for over ten years.

Two years ago, I decided to give up my old farmhouse. The roof was leaking and I had passed several uncomfortable winters there due to the absence of insulation and dependable heat. I was fortunate enough to qualify for an apartment in a community complex that catered to the poor and elderly. Jack went with me, (although he had to pay rent, too) and we suddenly found ourselves basking in well-heated rooms complete with a dish washer and a garbage disposal. However, Booger remained in the old farmhouse. There was no place in my new community for a maladjusted kitty.

As fall turned to winter, I worried about “the woolly booger” that lived in the attic. Although I had cut off the heat and the electricity, I went by each
day and left food in Booger’s dish. Within a month, the house was filled with cobwebs, mold and mildew. When the first snow came, Booger abandoned the attic and moved to the front porch. In time, I came to realize that she was waiting for me. I hadn’t heard that banshee wail in several years, but now it returned. Each day, as I trudged through the snow, Booger greeted me with loud recriminations. She had been abandoned again.

I guess guilt did me in. More and more, I had misgivings about Booger’s fate and as I listened to that anguished wail each day, it came to be a mix of both despair and accusation. “Where have you been?” she seem to say. As the house became increasingly bleak and inhospitable, the cold, empty rooms filled with dust devils and little “tumbleweeds” composed of Booger’s fur; I made a decision. I turned the electricity on and hooked up a heating pad for Booger to sleep on. I discovered that if I stayed a while, my old cat became less fretful. I brought books to read, and a radio that picked up an fm station in Asheville. One night, I dozed off in my chair and woke to find Booger in my lap, her mournful meow reduced to a vibrating purr, like an idling engine or a car.

And so I came home. Despite the protests and advice of my friends, I talked them into loading my battered belongings and making the trek back to Rhodes Cove. Several old acquaintances helped me clean the old house, remove the mildew and fire up the wood stove. Jack was obviously pleased, and we are now gradually “rediscovering” the pleasures of familiar things - the little stream in the front yard, the rain crows on the ridge above the house. It is time to put chickens back in the empty lot and plant tomatoes in the garden.

Did I come home because of my old cat, Booger? Well, that would make me some kind of fool, wouldn’t it? But it is gratifying to see Jack and Booger asleep in the same chair, their noses buried in each other’s fur. Each night, Jack burrows beneath the quilts on my bed and Booger sleeps on my pillow where she can keep watch on the silent fields and the night sky through the window. After all of those years of glaring at us from the attic steps, she has finally managed to “insinuate” herself into our lives.

Sometimes, I think it is the other way around - that Jack and I have finally managed to sneak into Booger’s world. When I stay up late reading and listening to music, I sometimes see Booger in the dark kitchen where she lays on her back purring. She is a chubby cat now after so many years of painful thinness. She rocks slowly back and forth, shifting from left to right in a kind of an ecstasy of contentment. Then, she will explode, vaulting to her feet and racing away up to the attic, down and out of the house, leaving the “doggie door” clattering, and then back to the kitchen where she sits and washes a foot, her huge, green eyes watching me. It took me a while to realize that Booger is... playing. And more than that, she is celebrating. Finally, everything is where it should be.

THE LIARS BENCH ON FEBRUARY 16TH: A NIGHT OF MUSIC, STORYTELLING AND DRAMA.....AND WE ARE GOING TO DO IT AGAIN NEXT WEEK ON THE 23RD!

KIND HEARTS, IT WAS A FANTASTIC NIGHT! KAREN BARENS SANG ABOUT MURDER IN KNOXVILLE AND DID A CROWD-PLEASING RENDITION OF STEPHEN FOSTER'S "HARD TIMES." LLOYD ARNEACH, THE CHEROKEE STORYTELLER TOLD A FEARSOME TALE ABOUT "THE GREAT LEECH," AND PAUL ARUSSI DID "THE GRANDFATHER CLOCK" WHICH I HAD NOT HEARD SINCE MY CHILDHOOD. WILLIAM RITTER SANG A STIRRING OLD BALLAD CALLED "LADY MARGARET" AND ERIC YOUNG DID A SERIES OF MEMORABLE MANDOLIN PIECES. BUT THE CENTERPIECE OF THE EVENING WAS TOM DEWEES, AN ACTOR FROM HAYWOOD COUNTY'S HART, WHO PERFORMED A DRAMATIC MONOLOGUE ENTITLED "COY," THE STORY OF A BOY WHO MAKES A DECISION ABOUT HIS DYING GRANDFATHER. IF YOU HAVEN'T COME, PLEASE DO. TICKETS ARE ON SALE ON CITY LIGHTS (AND AT THE DOOR ON THE 26TH. PERFORMANCE AT 7:00.) FOR ADDITIONAL INFORMATION, CALL THE MOUNGTAIN HERITAGE CENTER OR GARY CARDEN: 399-9653.

WE Need to Talk about Kevin reviewed by Gary Carden

We Need to Talk about Kevin by Lionel Shriver
New York: Harper Perennial
$14.99 (paperback) - 500 pages

“A child needs your love most when he deserves it least.”
--Erma Bombeck


Thursday. Throughout this anguished and gripping tale, this day of the week, “thursday” is usually italicized, suggesting that it has some special (and possibly sinister) significance. Specifically, it is the day that Eva Khatchadourian’s son, Kevin (two days shy of his sixteenth birthday) will kill eleven people. Taking the form of an epistolary novel, We Need to Talk about Kevin consists of a series of letters, written by Eva to her “estranged” husband, Franklin. In essence, these letters represent Eva’s painful attempts to discover the reasons for her son’s decision to murder nine of his classmates and two adults. It is a daunting task.

By turns witty, arrogant, defiant and defensive, Eva’s records the details of her life in an attempt to find clues...something that answers the provocative question, why? Where did it begin? Why did her morose and inverted son plan and “stage” a massacre in a school gymnasium? As she slowly sifts the chronology of her life...the details of her marriage, revisiting every major and minor conflict, she searches for the flaw that lead to disaster. As Eva recounts her successful career as writer of a travel book series entitled “A Wing and a Prayer” - books which provided guidance to “economically disadvantaged travelers;” Eva recalls the factors attending her decision to have a baby - how she became increasingly aware of her biological clock (she is in her late 30’s) and develops a devious scheme to have a baby despite Franklin’s ambivalence about parenthood. However, since they are wealthy, both would-be parents are confident that they can provide an exceptionally stable environment for a child. Eva plans Kevin’s birth as carefully as she orchestrates and markets her travel books.

However, there are disquieting factors from the beginning. Kevin, the new-born, rejects his mother’ breast and will only accept formula. Eventually, he also rejects toilet training and wears diapers (which he soils at an alarming rate) until he is nearly six. Baby-sitters and care-takers quit. Daycare teachers complain of Kevin’s “asocial behavior,” and though he resists learning to talk, he perfects an irritating ability to “mimic” his mother’s speech in a sing-song voice “Nah, neh, nah, nah, Neh, naw ......”- a talent that she suspects is a calculated attempt to anger her. It works ...especially since it is delivered with a tiny smirk. Distressed by Kevin’s, listless manner and his growing hostility to others, Eva begins to wonder if it is possible for a child can actually resent being born. Certainly, there seems to be little in life that pleases the sullen boy. By the time he begins school,he has already developed a bored and indifferent response to all attempts to elicit his interest: “Whatever,” he says, giving the response of the jaded and bored teenager.

Gradually, Eva realizes that instead of suffering from “attention deficient” or any of a host of mental impairments, Kevin is very intelligent. In addition, his indifference to his school, family, clothing and music is genuine. Ruefully, Eva notes that she had her son tested for Downs Syndrome, but “did not have him tested for malice, spiteful indifference, or for congenital meanness.” In time, it becomes evident that Kevin sees the world as “pointless,” viewing it with either hostility or repugnance. However, he has an ominous fascination for the rash of school shootings that are happening with alarming frequency (the 1980’s -90’s). becoming a kind of authority on each incident. He can list all of the “vital statistics” - age of shooter, number of victims, choice of weapons, etc., smugly noting that he is contemptuous of suicides and killers who leave elaborate notes. Kevin prefers motives that are “unknown, hidden and/or mysterious.”

In conjunction with Kevin’s growing antipathy for the world around him, Eva is alarmed by a series of “accidents” and disturbing events in which her son may have played a part. Kevin’s sister is blinded in one eye as a result of a suspicious accident; an unknown person plants incriminating evidence in the lockers of popular students - evidenced that suggests that they are budding terrorists or racists. Kevin acquires a “friend” who appears to be as maladjusted as he is, and the two boys create a plot that involves accusing a teacher of sexual improprieties; the local police show up inquiring about an alleged “prank.” Someone is dropping rocks and bricks from an overpass onto motorists.

Unfortunately,Eva’s growing distress is not shared by Franklin. What she sees as danger signals, Franklin sees as the robust vitality of a growing boy. When Eva confronts Kevin, Franklin invariably springs to his defense and assumes the role a tolerant father who encourages his son’s interest in hunting by buying him an assortment of weapons ...including a crossbow. Franklin also promotes a series of father-son activities such as camping and visiting historic sites...including Viet Nam! Perhaps the most poignant aspect of this relationship is the growing evidence that Kevin despises his father and will create a special punishment for him.

As the fateful date approaches - April 8, 1999 - Eva becomes increasingly anxious. Later, she will recall in detail the last family breakfast. Especially noteworthy is Kevin’s remark about his mother’s affectionate goodbye to Celia, the sweet and timid daughter. “Sure you don’t want to say goodbye to Celia one more time?” In the years to come, she will wonder if Kevin was hinting about the unthinkable acts that were to come.

We Need to Talk about Kevin will probably become a celebrated and hotly-debated book in the coming months. The fact that there is already a movie version in the theaters, featuring the brilliant actress, Tilda Swinton, suggests that Hollywood is mindful of the fact that both the film and the book may prove to be “significant.” Eva, faced with the decision of hiring a lawyer to defend Kevin in court observes that “We live in a time where lawyers see trials as games, not morality plays.” She is right, of course, when she continues, “We live in a country that does not discriminate between fame and infamy.”

A number of critics are comparing We Need to Talk about Kevin to works such as “Rosemary’s Baby,” and admittedly, I was reminded of a Ray Bradbury short story, “The Little Assassin” and a marvelous book by William March (circa 1950's), “The Bad Seed.” However, Lionel Shriver’s novel is no mere “spook” tale. Although it is a disquieting work with a “Grand Guignol” ending, there is more here than a momentary scare. It poses a provocative question: why are these massacres happening? Is there a hidden cord, a motif that bounds them together? Is it, as Shriver suggests, a desperate yearning to become “special” in some way in a world where they feel both purposeless... and anonymous?

LIARS BENCH ON FEB. 16TH AND 23RD AT MOUNTAIN HERITAGE CENTER.

FOLKS, AS MANY OF YOU KNOW, WE HAVE BEEN PROVIDING LIARS BENCH PERFORMANCES FREE OF CHARGE. WE PAY THE PERFORMERS BY PASSING THE HAT. WE HAVE DECIDED TO TAKE A CHANCE AND CHARGE ADMISSION ($10) FOR THE FEBRUARY PERFORMANCES (TWO OF THEM) IN ORDER THAT WE CAN PAY A MODEST FEE TO PERFORMERS AND PERHAPS HAVE A BIT OF MONEY TO DEVELOP FUTURE SHOWS. THE NEXT SHOW WILL INCLUDE A ONE-ACT PLAY....."COY" WHICH I WROTE ALMOST 20 YEARS AGO. THE REGULARS WILL BE ON HAND....LLOYD ARNEACH, PAUL IARUSSI, WILLIAM RITTER, BARBARA DUNCAN AND ERIC YOUNG (AND THE YOUNG'NS.
HOPE TO SEE YOU THERE.

FIVE PLAYS AT HART STUDIO IN WAYNESVILLE

Kind Hearts, the HART theater in Waynesville is doing five of my monologues, the majority of which have never been done. (There is probably a good reason for that!) At any rate, Tom Dewees, the director all all five plays (he also stars in "Coy") has told me that the plays are running on the designated dates in January and February. You will also note that they misspelled my name, as usual. I intend to go and may even
attempt to defend the plays in a dialogue with the audience at the end of the show. Please read the information below.
Gary


"Land's End and Beyond"
“Jesse Racer,” “Coy,” “Philoctetes,” “Jimmy Du,” “Signs and Wonders”
January 27, 28, 29 at 7:30. Sunday Matinee: 3:00.
By Gary Cardin
Directed by Tom Dewees
With John Winfield, Jack Ross, James Bradley, Holly Ann Harmon Jeremy Bridges and Tom Dewees
This is an evening that will feature five short plays by local playwright Gary Cardin. Cardin is best known for his play “Nance Dude,” which we presented a few season back and he is a chronicler of stories with a local spin and resonance. This will be a very special event which will connect you even more to the WNC mountains. Gary lives in Jackson County and is well known as one of the regions finest writers.
Adults $10, Students $6
(Hold Over Dates: February 3, 4, 5)s For additional information, call Tom Dewees:734-5169.

THE LIARS BENCH ON "LIVING IN THE CAROLINAS"

KIND HEARTS, PLUS NOTE THAT THE LIARS BENCH WILL BE ON CARL WHITE'S "LIVING IN THE CAROLINAS" ON JANUARY 15TH AT 2 P. M. THE SHOW WILL BE BROADCAST ON CHANNEL 40. THIS IS ACTUALLY A SHOW WE DID LAST OCTOBER AND WAS ENTITLED "BOOGERS, HAINTS AND BELLED BUZZARDS." PLEASE COME AND ENJOY!