Breaking all the “Rules”…

February 22, 2017annegribbins Leave a comment

Remember that time….when I went to my Company’s annual team meeting, sat down at a table to eat dinner with three great colleagues, and we broke all the rules?

I believe it was my Dad who first told me: Never talk politics or religion with people you work with. But it is the unwritten rule, right? Kind of goes right along with not ever discussing your salary. But let me say that I nearly always retreat from talking about politics – (particularly in places I don’t consider “safe” spaces) – at parties, at family dinners, with friends. I’m the one that will shove an entire cookie in my mouth and run the other direction.

Well, the other night, I learned a whole lot by NOT running away from talking about difficult or controversial things, and was also reminded that I work with the finest, smartest, most compassionate, amazing people in the world. Yes, the world. It all started with a sticky note, as we were supposed to write down some things about ourselves (the “ice breaker”) – which sometimes is kind of goofy, but again, with really smart people it’s kind of amazing. The sticker in question was: “I am an activist”. The conversation started from there.

I could also call this: “Three democrats and a republican” – or “Three women and a white guy” – or even “Three liberals and a conservative walk into a bar…” so you get the gist.

The four of us who had a seat at the table together (Mara, Margaret, Chris and myself) are colleagues, but also ( I would say) friends. There is definitely trust among us, and I believe the coolest thing to be part of was how we could rationally discuss our differences, and how Chris could articulate his thoughts reasonably, and yet also listen to the three of us share our deepest concerns, and empathize, and also freely admit he did not agree with everything our current President stands for. It was comforting and amazing that we could have this open dialogue, without yelling, without criticizing each other, and without any hard feelings at the end of the night. And he was not intimidated in the least by us. And we are strong, opinionated women. No dishes were thrown. No one got up and left. Even when my friend Margaret pointedly said: “I love you Chris, but your privilege is showing.”

We also (of course) talked about our kids – How Chris had a “biter” (younger kids) – and I had a new driver (my older kid) – and everything in between. So naturally, it morphed into a conversation about religion too…because, why not.

I am so grateful. Grateful for the conversation, grateful for the whole dialog restoring my faith in people and humanity and goodness. Because we can talk, and maybe more importantly, we can listen, and we can dig down deep and see all points of view. Though I won’t always agree, I didn’t feel angry or despairing about it this time. I felt hopeful. Thank you Mara, Margaret, and Chris. Cheers, and let’s do it again soon. We definitely don’t need the sticky notes.

Reflections on the Women’s March

January 22, 2017annegribbins Leave a comment

I’m going to start out by saying…I am not an activist. I have never been an activist in my entire life. Not that I don’t believe in anything, but because it somehow didn’t rise to the top of my priorities – (and I didn’t like being cold or uncomfortable, ha ha). But today I attended the Women’s March in Trenton, NJ, not to become an activist, but because I was just trying to be a good mom.

Like many of my friends, I struggled after the election with sadness and frustration, and it was also the first time that my kids were of an age during a presidential campaign where they cared, they talked about it with us, and they needed reassurance. Shannon is a caring, emotional, and kind teenager. She cried on election night. She could barely go to school the day after. She wanted to take action, and desperately wanted to engage, so when we heard about the Women’s march in Washington, we talked about going, but I hedged. I travel so much already, I couldn’t commit to it. But I had that feeling- you know that feeling – that I needed to pay attention. I saw the sister marches popping up, and that some friends were going to Philadelphia, New York, and Trenton. But here is what went through my mind:

How will we get there? I have to plan everything out. I hate crowds, there will be crowds. What if it isn’t safe? Could we stay overnight? Where would we stay? I have so much to do….no….there’s no way I can make this happen.

I was in Kentucky all week. I flew home on Thursday night and arrived home at 1AM. I had lamented to my colleagues David and Christy who were with me during the week: I know that Shannon really wants to go to this march. I just don’t know if I have it in me. They were empathetic, knowing how hard it is to travel and squeeze everything else in on the weekends, it just sometimes feels… too much. In my mind, I had already written it off. We’ll do something else. Volunteer, get involved. Something.

On Friday, Shannon asked me: So, are we going to Washington?

Me: Uh…..No….? (Guilt, Guilt, Guilt, I’m a crummy mother, I am lazy, self absorbed. I just want to lay on the couch in my fleece pants.)

Shannon: Oh. (Disappointed.)

Me: Well, maybe we can go to Trenton, let me look into it. (Hedge, hedge, hedge).

By Friday night, I had convinced myself I could do it. (Yes we can!) Who needs a clean house? Who needs groceries? Logistically, although I was a little concerned about parking, Trenton is literally ten minutes from our house, and the size of it felt OK to me, not overwhelming, I could handle it. I will not be a lazy mom!

I can’t say enough about how happy I am that I had this experience, and that SHE had this experience. From the moment we approached the steps of the Patriot’s Theater in Trenton where they were kicking off the event, you could feel the energy, the unity, and the feeling of just “togetherness.” There were women, there were men, there were babies and children, there were grandparents. Some carried signs, some wore pink hats, a few wore purple coats, all were wearing big smiles. (Shannon and I chuckled at the sign one young girl held up: My country voted, and all I got was this lousy President.)

Shannon, armed with her own sign, breathed in: This is so cool.

Even though we had to stand outside for almost two hours, and couldn’t completely feel our toes by the time the actual marching began, we cheered, we chanted, we talked to people around us, and like most things we do together, just enjoyed each other’s company, and felt connected in that we cared about the same things. Equality, diversity, decency, just being a good HUMAN BEING. We passed the police at the intersections, people were calling out to them: Thank you! They smiled, and waved back at the crowd, appreciative.

As a parent, I have always just wanted to raise my kids to be good people who are humble, kind, and empathetic. Sometimes I have to push myself off the couch and get out of my fleece pants to make sure they get the experiences they deserve. This was a good reminder of that. I am encouraged by how engaged my teenagers, (and their friends) are in what is going on in the world. I would never have asked my mom to take me to a women’s march, I barely paid attention to politics, candidates, or issues at the age of 17. Bravo to them – they are the future, and we should make sure they care. A lot.

Thanks to all the people in Trenton today who were so uplifting, inspiring, and good-natured. We felt something very special today. Now let’s keep reflecting upon our own humility, empathy, and act upon what we truly care about. I believe that is being an activist, right? So what do you know, maybe I am one.

Driver’s Ed

January 9, 2017annegribbins Leave a comment

A couple of weeks ago, my daughter Shannon got her driver’s license, wrapping up a six month adventure of driving lessons, parking lessons, laughter, tears, and talking (or not talking) in the car. I wanted to revisit my blog to not only thank the village of folks that helped get us to this milestone, but also share some of the hilarity of the journey.

To begin with, we felt that in the spirit of good parenting, she should drive an old car. Because Joe and I were not handed a brand new set of car keys when we got our licenses, we wanted to pass along the love to our daughter, you know, for character building. (And, yeah, we don’t have money to buy her a new car.) I originally drove my mom’s yellow Chevy Citation, which had only AM radio, was not in any way a luxury car, and I’m pretty sure was most definitely a lemon, considering how often it broke down.

Queue the mission to “make sure the Jeep Cherokee is in good shape.” Joe, being the handy guy that he is, has had this car for a few years, and diligently fixed most problems himself, replaced the entire engine a couple of years ago, and if it made a noise, well, he figured out what it was, (mostly). So……let’s just say it still had some problems. We spent (insert a comma and a few zeros here…) to overhaul a lot of it, but it still had some of those “old car” quirks. Since I began doing most of the “practice” driving with Shannon, I would try to not jump uncomfortably when I heard a bang coming from the back of the car. We shall call this Problem #1.

What was that??! Shannon exclaimed. Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing. [Bangs again]….Uh, OK, let’s pull over for a second. [Calls Joe.] Conversation goes as follows:

A: UH, there is a terrible banging noise coming from the back right of the car when we go over any bumps. Is the tire going to fall off?

J: No, I’ve looked at this, there’s nothing wrong. Don’t worry about it.

A: OK, we’ll keep going. Are you sure?

J: Yep, I’m sure. I’ll figure it out, but it’s totally fine.

A: OK, we’ll keep going…(to Shannon) – go slowly over bumps.

We keep driving. The noise, thankfully, seems to subside as we get off the bumpier road, and also the longer we are in the car. I begin to breathe normally again.

Problem #2: The “check engine” light was continually on. Joe tried to fix this, to no avail. We paid mechanic #1 to fix it, but it kept coming back on. Joe googled it, and tried everything that was suggested. But it was persistently still on. This leads to:

Problem #3: We can’t get the car inspected if the light is on. The car must have passed inspection, or she can’t take the test in it. See where I’m going with this. This leads us to mechanic #2, who assures Joe that they will fix it, AND inspect the car once it’s off. Hurrah! We are home free, (I think).

So, folks, this is where the fun starts. For those of you who know Joe, he is a man who needs a deadline. Shannon’s test was scheduled for a Monday morning in mid-December. He had the car at mechanic #2 the week before she was scheduled to take the test.

On FRIDAY, they tell him that they got the engine light to turn off, but when they restarted the car, IT CAME BACK ON. So they can’t pass it for inspection. They assure Joe that it will go off, but he has to drive it around to get it to reset itself. OK, fine, but meanwhile he is at work, and will be working overnight Friday into Saturday. Which means that we only have until noon Saturday to get the car to an inspection station, or Shannon cannot take the test as scheduled on Monday.

I try not to freak out. Really. On Saturday morning, he gets home from work at 8:30am, and says he’s going to just go drive around. I begin texting friends and family who may know how to help, pleading for advice. The last time we had it go off for any period of time, it was raining. I tell him: Pour water on the engine. He kind of listened to me – and went through the car wash. Which worked!

Made it through inspection with maybe a half hour to spare. This left time on Sunday for practicing parallel parking and a brief drive through the driver’s testing course.

Monday came, the day had arrived. Shannon and I drove to the test, which is about 20 minutes away from our house. A nice young man comes out to the car to greet us, and I hand over all the paperwork, except….we don’t have her passport. Oh. My. God. I ask…can we come back? He says: Yes – just be back within two hours and you’ll be good.

Off we go – back home to get the passport. It’s extra driving practice, I say.

Fast forward to the end of the test, and unfortunately, Shannon hit a cone on the second attempt at Parallel parking, which is an automatic fail. The man administering the test told her she was too far away from the curb the first time, made her do it again, and then he waved at me across the driving course for me to come out and meet them there. (Which I thought was really weird.) But OK, we schedule another test for two weeks later during Christmas break.

There were a few tears, she was not terribly comforted by the fact that I, too, failed my first time (and for parallel parking!!) Do I have to go to school now? She asked. Yes. I said.

For the next week and a half (before we were out of town after Christmas) – we were on mission #2 to make sure she could pass parallel parking. Joe looked up the exact dimensions of the parking space. He brought giant cones home and we put wooden dowels in them, and set up the space in front of our house. (Nice perk of living on a non-through street…) Joe spent a couple of hours with her, some tears were shed. He’s mean. She tells me.

There are moments in life when you know that you are not the best person to teach your child. This was one of those moments. I know that Joe was most certainly not mean, but there are emotions that run between family members that just don’t with people not related to you. After spending the evening with a good friend lamenting the horrors of parellel parking, we wisely engaged the help of John Baer, a very dear friend who has known Shannon her whole life, to teach her. I can do it in 20 minutes, he said. OK, we said!

Two days before Christmas, he generously gave up a couple of hours of his time to help her (and us) out. At the end of that time, she was starting to figure out how to correct herself if it was going wrong, there were no tears shed, and she didn’t run to her room yelling: I will never get in the car again! I considered this a huge success. He also provided some classroom instruction.

Take 2 on the Driving Test. What if I fail again? She asks. You won’t. I say. It was a very quiet drive to the DMV.

This time we are so prepared. We pull up to the stop sign at the start of the course, passport in hand, paperwork in order, and off she goes. I try not to watch through the window of the little building where I wait. I see the car go by as she starts on the course. As she gets to the parallel parking space, I peer around the wall. I think: Looks good, she hasn’t hit any cones, she is going slowly, angle is right, straightening out…” The car stops. I get ready to go out the door in case I am waved to run across the driving course. Nothing happens. The car stays put. Then I see her start to pull out of the parking space to execute her “K turn” and I try not to pump my fist in the air and yell YESSS!!!! YEESSSS!!!!! I calmly walk outside the building, looking ever-so nonchalant, waiting for her to finish the course. The nice guy gets out of the car and gives me the thumbs up, and encouragingly adds: She nailed it!

As I walked towards the car, I couldn’t help but give a little Gene Kelly click of the heels, a la Singing in the Rain, to which Shannon shook her head at me probably thinking, Good lord, Mom. But she was smiling!

To all the people that supported us, responded to my texts about the stupid Check Engine light, boosted Shannon’s spirits, and joked about getting off the road when she got her license, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. We couldn’t have done it without you. And if you want to get off the road, or move to another State, now is the time.

Rigging up the lights….

December 14, 2015annegribbins Leave a comment

When I was a kid, I remember driving through Princeton, NJ, where I grew up, during the month of December, knowing where all the familiar outdoor Christmas lights could be found. I looked forward to the house a few blocks over that had a smattering of blue lights in a tree in their front yard, and the twinkle lights around the bushes right down the street. When they appeared, I knew it was really time for the holidays. One year the neighbors across the street had *gasp* – blinking lights on the front of their house.

I also grew up thinking that outdoor Christmas lighting was only for other people’s houses, as we didn’t do it. We had our Christmas tree in the big living room window, and that was really the extent of it. I believe that this was mostly due to my Dad not being, uh, the most “handy”,or even really interested in having outdoor Christmas lights. But one year, when I was around ten years old, I think perhaps in response to my mom declaring: Dear, wouldn’t it be nice if we had some lights on our bushes?… He rigged up some blobs of colored lights clumped together on our two round bushes by the front door, no doubt with a mountain of extension cords running all over the place. I didn’t honestly pay much attention to how all of that worked, but given the fact that they were actually lit only about half the time, and it was only one year of blobby bush lighting, I gather that the electrical challenges were probably insurmountable. I remember wondering why it would be so difficult. Well Dad, now I understand.

Fast forward a few (OK, 30) years, when suddenly outdoor lighting is way more elaborate than a few blue lights in a tree – or a small cute reindeer lit up by the garage. I’m talking about houses that put the Griswold’s light display to shame. There are blow up snow globes, multiple trees with blinking lights, the ever popular “icicle” lights, and a multitude of other yuletide arrangements.

When we were first married, my husband Joe and I had an apartment on the second floor of a barn way out in the country. It never occurred to me to think about any outdoor lighting – it just wasn’t possible. We put our little Christmas tree in the window, and since that’s how I grew up, I was completely happy.

When we bought our house fifteen years ago, we have continually faced the same challenges as my father had 30 years prior, as in we really don’t have the electrical power access outside to do anything easily. My husband, who, (thank the lord) is VERY handy, rigged up some lighting on our post lamp by the front walkway so we could make it look like a candy cane. Very subtle, understated, yet original. LOVE IT, and I thought: I finally have outside Christmas lights! (Pumps fist in air.) Then, I got a little greedy, and one year I asked for a little Christmas tree to be lit up on the front porch. He was very creative and figured out how to run extension cords around so that they weren’t dangerous or something we would trip on, and even rigged the tree so it wouldn’t blow away in a strong wind.

But, getting these lights up each Christmas season is still a struggle. I feel as though I am gently reminding (yup, nagging him) to deal with it on a semi-warm day prior to December 24th, and knowing the pain-in-the-neck effort that it is, I really feel bad. And this is for about three strings of lights. No reindeer, no blow-up snow globe, nothing on our ROOF, nothing on the garage. This year in particular, the rope lights that we so carefully packed away had half the white string burned out, so the understated candy cane became completely pathetic. Our dark front yard now looked like a comedy of Christmas. It was so sad, yet we kept laughing every time we looked at it. So, Joe went out and hunted for new rope lights, only to discover that no one makes them anymore. Eventually we went with the traditional lights, which he valiantly wrapped around the post, all whilst humming The Twelve Pains of Christmas.

I realize that our house is older, and therefore not equipped with “easy access” for outdoor lighting, (meaning – no outlets) – but I still find myself in awe of people who have little lights in their windows, or window boxes with greens and twinkle lights. HOW DO THEY DO THIS? I can’t even get a battery run CANDLE to stay lit in the window. Each year, when we pull out the lights for the little trees for the kid’s rooms, they NEVER WORK. This year, I puzzled over why the front porch tree lights kept going out sometimes, while the post lights stayed lit, and finally realized that they were actually plugged into the BACK PORCH outlet, so when I turned off the back porch light, they went out too. Two days (Two days!) it took me to figure this out. Forehead smack. Perhaps my Dad’s electrical challenged karma has rubbed off on me.

Alas, I have come to terms with the fact that I will never have a plethora of Christmas lights in my yard, and I’m really OK with that. I just want the little tree on the porch. But can I just bring it outside and PLUG IT IN?

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good light.

So, How is it…working from home?

November 23, 2015annegribbins Leave a comment

At the end of September, I started a new job with the Tessitura Network, a company where nearly all of the employees work out of their home. My particular job involves some travel as well, but now that I’ve settled in a little bit to a new routine, I think I can finally provide some answers to the ever-popular question: So how is it working from home?

Quiet

I left my job at McCarter Theatre, where my office was like a train station. People coming and going, sometimes actually forming a line outside my door, there was noise in the hallway, noise in the marketing office next door, colleagues “popping in” – pretty much a continual stream of conversation. Now, there is no one. Well – except my husband Joe when he is off from work, which as fate would have it, is more than he used to be, since as a fireman, his shifts recently changed to 24 hours. But Joe is a pretty quiet guy, so it’s usually me yammering away about something while he nods and drinks his coffee. And then he wants to go take his nap after he gets home from working 24 hours. I am learning to adjust, and even appreciate, the quiet house.

My cats love me

We have 3 cats, who have now decided that clearly I have decided to stay home so that I can let them in and out. All. Day. Long. And when I am on the phone and can’t get up, they will knock over my cable modem, jump on my computer, or start scratching papers up in the office. I can say that I have never have had office mates that were as furry or as needy.

The Fed Ex man scared me to death

One warm October afternoon, I had the window open next to my desk, when I heard a man talking outside. My heart literally stopped – I listened intently, crouched under the window, then stealthily darted from window to window trying to see who it was without being seen myself. I was sure there was a serial killer in Titusville who must have known I was working from home all alone and he was coming to get me. (And he was right outside my window!) Finally when I bravely looked out the front door and saw the Fed Ex truck, (which I never heard pull in the driveway…) And I then saw him scratching my cat Maxine’s little head on our front stoop while talking to her, well, forehead smack. #thefedexmanisnotanaxmurderer.

No, it’s not a person coming down the stairs

One of the most difficult things that I’ve found about being home alone is sorting out the various noises in the house. I keep trying not to imagine that every little thing I hear is not a ghost, or that someone hasn’t snuck inside the house while I was on the phone with my headset on. After the first couple of days, I finally stopped jumping out of my chair when I heard our littlest cat plodding down the stairs. For a cat that’s literally the size of a kitten, she is very heavy on her paws, and she absolutely sounds like a person. But she’s a cat.

My kids are chill

My son Joseph, a 7th grader, was at first just a little disappointed that I was now occupying the space where he was used to playing his X-box when he came home from school. He now has to wait a full hour and a half before he can watch TV, etc. in the office. But, on the flip side, he no longer has to wait for me to commute home from work to start dinner, and I think he is digging this. My daughter Shannon, a 10th grader who really enjoys some quiet time alone in her room after school, has adjusted to my existence, (even though she used to regularly call me at work when she got home) – I don’t think she wants to admit she sort of likes my being there. Anyway, Joseph said, I keep forgetting that you’re going to be here when I get home, but I kind of like it. Hey – I’ll take it!

Nothing happens in our neighborhood. Really.

I knew we lived in a quiet neighborhood. It’s one of the reasons I love it so much. But somehow I thought, maybe some exciting things happen during the day – like the senior citizens on our block had a dance party, or I would see moms and their small kids walking, or maybe there was a secret spy ring on our street that I would uncover because I now worked from home all the time. Well, there’s none of that. I believe we live in the quietest, most uneventful corner of the country. The deer tromp through the yard and eat our apples, the lady across the street picks up her leaves one at a time…(seriously), and evidently anyone with small children is keeping them inside. But that’s OK.

I have to put a sign on the door when I’m on the phone

Since everyone in my family assumes that I am always available to start a conversation anytime they’d like me to, and since I have a headset on and they can’t really tell that I’m on the phone – (talking to someone else), the easiest way to avoid the kids bursting into the room while talking loudly is just a simple post it note on the door that says: I’M ON THE PHONE.

We’re all adjusting

The real answer to So, how is it working from home?…. is, I guess, a mixed bag. It definitely has its great aspects, I enjoy walking down to the Delaware river, or taking a bike ride when I have a chance at lunch, I sometimes get to have a meal with my husband (when he’s not napping) – and I really like being able to check in with my kids after they get home from school. Even when they don’t really want to talk, they know I’m there. I no longer feel the stress of trying to leave the office on time and get home in rush hour traffic so that I can get dinner started (and eaten) before we have to dash off somewhere. I get to drink my own coffee, and work while looking out over my nice little yard. What do I miss? Well, I have to admit that I didn’t actually mind my office being a central repository of people. And I like Wawa coffee. And sometimes I wish I could walk into the town of Princeton to get sushi or ice cream. But, for now I’ll take my quiet neighborhood, my needy cats, I won’t kill the Fed Ex man with a baseball bat, and you’ll be the first to know if I uncover that spy ring.

A Fall Adventure to Spring Awakening

October 19, 2015annegribbins 1 Comment

As with many of our conversations, it starts with a nonchalant question. This time, my daughter Shannon asked me: Mom, can we go see Spring Awakening on Broadway? Since I worked in the Theater business until very recently, my inner voice was a little conflicted, first thinking: Oh, that might be cool! But then ….. Why? Followed by the bubble above my head with $$$$$!!!!! But my outward response was equally nonchalant. Maybe. We’ll have to see how much the tickets are. Thought bubble: Pray, pray, pray that we are too busy. Or too poor. Or both.

But here is the catch. And it’s a big one. I have let Shannon guide us towards many of our theater experiences lately, because I think it’s really amazing that I am raising a daughter who loves to go see shows – (ALL kinds of shows…), so I really do not want to squash the impulse in any way. It’s exactly what Theaters need, young audiences who are gaining an appreciation and understanding of the culture, and who will grow up to be supporters and enthusiasts. So, as long as it doesn’t bankrupt the family, and we’re all gaining something from the experience, why not?

Shannon recently befriended a young woman who is more enthusiastic about Broadway shows than any 15 year old I have ever met. She is also a mega fan of Santino Fontana, (you may know him as the voice of Hans in that little Disney movie, Frozen. He was also the Prince in Cinderella on Broadway). As all good teenagers seem to do these days, she maintains a fan page for him on social media, but she also sends him homemade cookies. When we went to see him in a show last spring, he greeted her at the stage door like an old friend. How are you? Good to see you. Loved the Maple Bacon cookies!

So, thanks to Broadway-friend, Shannon is now more informed than ever about what’s hot on Broadway, (and what’s not) – plus anywhere Santino Fontana may be appearing in the greater NYC area for the next year.

But back to the Spring Awakening question. I had to say “no” to the preview dates where tickets were $35 and she could go on stage afterwards and meet the cast, because it was a school night. But I found some reasonable tickets on a Saturday in October, and Broadway-friend managed to buy the seat next to ours.

I have always been curious about this show, partially because of the controversy surrounding it, and partially because I had been told once that McCarter Theatre (where I worked for 18 years) – had for a time, been in negotiations to produce the World Premiere many years ago. Ultimately it did not end up premiering in Princeton, NJ, but I felt a connection to it.

So, yeah, I knew loosely that it’s about teenagers…..awakening, shall we say, has sexual themes, plus a myriad of other rebellious teenagery story threads. BUT – I assumed I knew enough and didn’t really need to research it further. Which was sort of true. But uh, maybe not really. Here I was, with two high schoolers, absorbing some pretty intense threads within this show. SPOILER ALERT: It’s all in there. Sexual awakening, sex (on stage), depression, suicide, abortion, homosexuality, molestation, abuse, bullying, did I leave anything out? I mean, by the end of the show, I was crying like a baby. These two girls were more together emotionally than I was!

So my first lesson of the day, was that just because I worked in the theater business did NOT mean that I was all knowing, or more prepared in any way to absorb or discuss this drama. Broadway-friend had seen the show already, so she was making intelligent comparisons and observations based on her wiser-than-her-years knowledge of the material. Ladies and gentlemen, we may have a dramaturg in the making. I just kind of nodded and followed along in awe. Shannon had also studied up on the book, and chimed in with her own insights. Where. Did. They. Come. From.

If this wasn’t enough, perhaps the best part of this whole experience came after the show. Of course we waited at the stage door, and Broadway-friend is an expert at maneuvering her way out quickly and finding the best placement on where to stand……the entire cast came out, and I took photographs of Shannon with one cute boy (and girl) after another, all very humble and generous with their fans. Her program was scrawled full of autographs. (And I was just excited that I got to see Marlee Matlin).

Shannon and her friend had also pre-planned that we hustle around the corner and wait for the cast of “Hamilton” to come out after their show. For those of you keeping score, “Hamilton” is currently the hottest show on Broadway, sold out for months, literally you have to enter a lottery to get a ticket. Me, being such the rule follower, initially thought: Can you do that? Won’t they know you didn’t see the show? Well, I’ll tell you, of course you can, and no, they don’t.

We literally ran to the barriers on the street, where Broadway-friend posed this question: Should I ask them to sign my arm or my face? The mother instinct in me instantly recoiled and thought – not your FACE! How will you ever get it off?? But, I was not her mother. So, she asked them to sign her face. And they did. And it was awesome. The first woman who came out, said: NO! I won’t….. but I’ll sign your hand….And was very sweet. Then, enter the second actor out the door who plays Thomas Jefferson, and he was totally game for the idea, signing her forehead. The next couple of actors also courageously took their black sharpies to various spots on her cheeks, when finally, Anthony Ramos, who plays John Laurens and Philip Hamilton, caught sight of his cast mate signing, and exclaimed: WHAAAAAAAAT!!! Followed by: OH SNAP! Followed by hysterical laughter. And then he got out HIS phone so he could take a photo of HER! As he took it he said: This is goin’ on TWITTER!!!! (But pronounced more like TWITTAAAAHHHHH!!!!!).

As Shannon dutifully snapped photos of her friend with all these actors having such a good time with this fun but crazy idea, I couldn’t help but hand it to Broadway-friend for being so bold, so fearless, and so creative. When I was 15, I don’t think I would have even had the courage to say anything to someone who had been on stage in a Broadway show, let alone ask them to sign my FACE.

The cast of Hamilton, the hottest actors on Broadway, in the hottest show to come around in years, will probably be talking about Broadway-friend for weeks – probably while they’re in the green room at the theater getting coffee. Remember that girl who asked us to sign her FACE? That was amazing! Love her!

As we sat and talked on the train ride home, and I reflected on the amazing day I spent with these two wonderful girls, I thought about the real lesson here. Be bold, people, be bold.

Gribbins Go West

July 5, 2015annegribbins Leave a comment

I actually wanted to title this: We took our kids on a summer road trip and survived! or… We took our kids on a summer road trip and had a great time – and so can you! But I don’t want to be preachy or overly dramatic in describing this vacation. It was about 7 months in the planning, and I think our memories will indeed last a lifetime.

Last year, I had proclaimed that we were going to take a family vacation out west to see some of the country. We had taken our kids on great vacations over the years, but all of them were on the East Coast either in New England, the Outer Banks, or Florida. After some convincing, (yes, we promised, we would go back to the beach or a lake next year) – we acquired a gigantic map of the US, and rolled it out on our living room floor during a January snowstorm. We all took turns marking places on the map that we wanted to see. For me, Mount Rushmore and Yellowstone National Park were choice destinations. Joseph also liked the idea of Mount Rushmore but was otherwise non committal. Shannon was really interested in Yellowstone, but then lamented, “So many of my favorite books take place around the Grand Canyon, so I really want to see that!”

Joe, who loves the road less traveled, marked much more obscure things on the map, like World’s Largest Ball of Twine, and CATFISH. The ball of twine is somewhere near Minneapolis, and I still am not sure what “Catfish” he wanted to see between Minnesota and North Dakota, because I didn’t actually ask.

For a few months, we’d bounce ideas off each other during dinner conversations. Other places came up – the world’s largest potato, cadilac ranch, Santa Fe, the Redwood Forest in California. We had other suggestions from Facebook – Grand Tetons, Seattle, Colorado, Corn Palace. As winter melted into spring, I began researching our options for flights, and this is when we came to realize that trying to see Mount Rushmore and Yellowstone in the same trip, though it’s only a few fingers on this large map, was going to be days and days of driving. While our kids have done long drives before and are pretty good travelers, we didn’t want to spend the entire trip in the car.

The route that we ultimately ended up taking was dictated by the fact that I found flights to Las Vegas at very reasonable prices for four of us to fly, and Joe and I had both been to Vegas before, and felt that our kids were now old enough to appreciate what the desert city had to offer. (Like a roller coaster through our hotel). From there, we could easily travel to a few of the National Parks in Utah and Arizona and also make our way to the Grand Canyon.

With some exceptional planning – (Joe could seriously be a travel agent…) and some luck, which included two hotel room upgrades, one because our flight was delayed and we were so late getting to the New York New York Hotel in Las Vegas that they gave us a nice suite with a Jacuzzi and two televisions, (Sweet!) – and the other because Joe is a Holiday Inn Express “rewards member” -who knew? We checked in at Moab, Utah, with a kitchenette, sofa, free waters, and complimentary granola bars. (We are high rollers, right?) – We had a seamless trip with two kids who traveled well and thank the dear lord, got along fine about 98% of the time.

So, here are my top 6 favorite experiences from the trip:

6. Everything in the Desert is named after the devil: Some of the places that we passed in our travels had the most interesting and at times kind of threatening names – including: Buffalo Sage Bed & Breakfast, Hell’s Backbone, Box Death Hollow Wilderness, Monument Valley, and Mexican Hat – among many others. Shannon was pointing out that many of these places had “hell” or “devil” in their titles, and we responded that if she were a pioneer and came to this desert without knowing how hot it would be, or how harsh the conditions were, wouldn’t she name everything as if were from hell too? Uh, yeah.

5. Trading Posts. There were just so many. The Blind Coyote was my personal fave, but they were everywhere. You have to love these overflowing retail establishments brimming with Indian Jewelry, dream catchers, tacky postcards that say: Howdy from Arizona with googly eyes on a cactus, obligatory arrowheads, spirit animals, and the greatest assortment ever of Buffalo hot sauces and “cactus candy” – which I sincerely hope is not real cactus, because that might end unhappily for some poor child.

4. Families have different eating habits: Or, rather sometimes, not eating. My husband eats one meal a day. Yes, that’s right. This is not because he has some vain desire to be very thin, it is just the way he is. To his credit, he doesn’t necessarily begrudge that the rest of us who have to eat more frequently than that, but he occasionally shrugs with confusion when 5 hours after lunch, I might be complaining (just a little) that I would like to eat dinner. The true discovery for me on this trip was that Shannon is actually very similar to him. If she had a fairly large lunch, there was no need for her to eat dinner. So, one night in Las Vegas when the two of them were bewildered as to why Joseph (a growing 12 year old boy who eats oh, let me think. ALL THE TIME) – and I were starving at 7pm, we went ahead by ourselves and got “New York” hot dogs (yes, in Las Vegas) and enjoyed a conversation about soccer, basketball, and where he thinks he might like to go to college, while Dad & daughter lounged in the room, I suppose emptying out their hollow legs.

3. Car conversations: Put four people in a car for hours, and there are bound to be some good conversations, particularly when you have no cell service, no radio reception, and the very real concern about losing battery power of all electronic devices forces your teenager to shut everything down and talk to you! What did we talk about? I don’t even remember, but the point is it happened, and my kids are funny. And reasonably intelligent. And we could sit there and enjoy them without anything else to do, or anywhere to be except the next destination.

2. Our National Parks: They are unabashedly beautiful. I visited the Grand Canyon about 25 years ago, and it is immense, vast, and breathtaking. But I was so pleasantly surprised and overwhelmed by Arches National Park, which around every corner had another beautiful structure that was different from what we’d seen before. I couldn’t get enough of it. Or Zion National Park, where we didn’t actually do much hiking, because the kids had such fun mucking around and playing in the Colorado River, exactly the moments we’d hoped for – spontaneous, non scheduled, just enjoying the moment.

1. Everyone’s a comedian: You know those famous family quotes. We acquired some new ones.

Shannon: “Is there going to be an actual town at some point? Instead of just these ghetto trading posts?”

Joseph: “Arizona is just one long straight road. With some mountains. Look. There are some more mountains. Great. Haven’t seen those before.”

There it is. The long road. With some mountains.

Joe: (As we were leaving to drive across Utah, from Zion National Park to get to Moab, which is roughly was the same amount of time as if we were driving from New Jersey to Maine.) “Ok, guys, this is going to be a long-ass drive, but then we don’t have to go anywhere for two days.”

Yes, I woke up each morning and thought to myself, things are going so well! After which I would immediately think: Stop thinking that! But the reality is, it did go well, even when on the first day our Jeep Compass wouldn’t really go into gear properly and going up hills made the engine sound and feel like a lawnmower was powering the car – but we figured that out eventually. I would rank this in my top 3 best vacations of all time.

That’s not to say we didn’t have our less than perfect moments. Joseph quoted the sign in the restroom at Arches National Park, where we had been walking around in 100 degree heat all day, to Shannon: “It says if you are irritable and tired, maybe you need to drink more water…” which prompted her to spit her water all over him…yeah, Joe did the yelling and I walked away pretending I didn’t know them.

But there were lots of laughs, as well as fun discoveries – like the town of Bedrock with all the Flintstones in the middle of nowhere, we got to sleep in a tent under the Desert stars, we drove on twisty, windy roads through amazing scenery where Shannon told us her hands got sweaty because of he elevation, and all the “Dam” jokes at Hoover Dam. While they certainly didn’t love everything, that was also the point of this trip. They dutifully allowed me to take all the photos I wanted, they smiled and posed, and let me enjoy them – which is what family vacations should be all about. Yes, we took our kids on a road trip – and had a great time!

Next year – the world’s largest potato and the world’s largest ball of twine. Think of the pictures!

New Year, New Yoga

January 28, 2015annegribbins Leave a comment

I don’t usually commit myself to New Year’s Resolutions. It’s far too easy to give up on them and ultimately disappoint yourself. But I am committed to trying new things, and something I’d been wanting to try for quite some time (therefore I’m not calling it a resolution) – was to take my daughter to yoga class.

Shannon gave up taking ballet classes a year ago after nine years of study, and though she has gym class everyday in high school and we regularly take walks or bike rides together, she didn’t really have any physical activity that she could continue as an adult. She does not play soccer or other sports, and trust me when I say she is not likely to join a gym anytime soon. Actually, never. Ever. Given her ballet background, I figured that Yoga would be intuitive for her, perhaps help her deal with the stress of high school, and maybe it would be something she would like to continue practicing.

My own exercise habits have included various types of yoga and Pilates classes over the years, and I took Jazzercise regularly for quite some time before I had kids, but I am admittedly gym-phobic and prefer getting outdoors for walks or bike rides in the fresh air. I enjoyed yoga class, but with my background as a professional dancer, I have always struggled mentally with some aspects of it – that you’re not supposed to be “perfect”, the pace of the class could feel too slow, and I still find that the chanting of the word “ohm” makes me want to collapse into hysterical giggling. Seriously.

That being said, the mid 40-something-year-old me really understands (and enjoys!) the benefits of yoga, including the eye pillows (most amazing invention ever), the focus on just breathing in and out, and not being worried about breaking a hip or injuring myself by overdoing it. If you can’t hold the pose, just put your leg down. No one is judging you.

After I got Shannon’s approving shrug of: “Ok, I’ll try it…” I went about getting us introductory passes to a new local yoga studio. On a cold Saturday in January, we set off armed with our mats and comfy pants. The class was packed, (I mean, really PACKED! Darn those new year’s resolutions…) but Shannon did very well. The teacher was amazed and impressed that she had never done yoga before – let alone two inches from other mats and people. Ballet training reigns supreme again!

We attended a few beginner classes, then I got ambitious and signed us up for a “flow” class, which indicated that it was for mixed levels. I was sure that Shannon could modify anything that was too difficult for her. The minute we walked in, I could sense that the energy in the room was different. There were some serious yogis in there, not much talking going on. Let’s just say that the class moved….uh, quickly. We kept up, but there was a moment towards the end where we were going into the “Lizard Pose”, and I admit I felt a little desperate. I glanced over at Shannon, and there she was, doing a perfect job of being a lizard. Great. I literally couldn’t even get my forearms on the floor, and was awkwardly trying to maneuver these blocks (that are supposed to help you) – underneath my arms without falling over. Beads of sweat dripped onto my mat.

We limped out of that class (though we were not admitting that we were limping…) got outside and promptly said: “Let’s go get pizza!” Followed by hearty laughter. Then, over dripping mozzarella cheese, we decided that we should probably stick to the beginner “roots” classes for a bit longer, you know, so that we could walk the next day.

We have now finished our introductory class period, and I’m happy to say that we are going to stay with it. As I searched through the schedule, I asked Shannon if she wanted to try the “Teen class”. She responded without hesitation: “No way, too judgmental.” OK. I then discovered a class called “Restorative Yoga”. Shannon has mid-term exams this week, so I said, “I found this class where the description says you lie down in various poses on the floor in the dark. How does that sound?” She called from the couch: “PERFECT!!”

I think there’s a good chance that she will stick with this for awhile.

Dysfunctional family photos

November 20, 2014annegribbins 1 Comment

Each November, I begin the process of pouring through the past year’s photos to choose our Christmas Card-worthy shots – you know, the ones that will make the “cut”. I take a lot of photos. I mean, a lot. Of photos. This year, I have come across an unusually large amount of really dysfunctional, kind of awkward, and yes, some really bad photos, ones that I probably should have deleted long ago. Since it usually takes me several hours over a period of days to get the card put together and approved by my family, I am finding this a little cumbersome. Is 4 photos the right amount? Do I like the overlay? 6 is too many….oh my god, in that one, Joseph’s head awkwardly looks like it’s the same size as the soccer ball… and then I start to giggle, wondering WHY am I doing this? Or…What if I included these ridiculous photos in my card? In the era of Facebook and social media, so many photos are shared already, I mean, Does anyone really NEED this card from us anymore?

But then I remember: No, people really enjoy these cards, they put them on their refrigerator. They have told me this. I will myself onward. But somehow I keep coming back to the dysfunctional ones…..so what if Joseph is wearing his jacket as some kind of head gear? The selfie that Shannon was attempting at the beach with her beautiful hair all in her face, looking like Cousin IT from The Adams Family? The classic photo of me in mid-sentence, talking to whomever is taking the photo, while my husband Joe stands squinting stoically with a half smile on his face? This is us, after all.

It’s natural to want to show our best selves in our annual Christmas Cards, and surely you notice that most everyone’s social media posts always reflect happy faces and kids, turned just the right way, trying to look as wonderful (and for most of us, as thin) as possible. No one tends to “let it all hang out.”

But what I will admit that I love about these well, not perfect photos, is that they show what really happens in life, which as we know is not always big happy smiles. We might not be showing our “best side”, our hair might be messed up, I might be yelling at someone, (what,, me? Yes, it’s true….) and instead of that perfect soccer shot going into the net, maybe it was a frustrating game captured in a perfect moment…and this is life. What if I had a normal Christmas Card instead of a super perfect one? What if we all decided to show our true everyday selves, not our Christmas Card worthy selves? I imagine that some people might find it hilarious, some might be appalled, and others would think I had completely lost it.

Well, I’ll be completely honest, I might not have the courage to actually go through with it, so I’ve shared our fun photos here. Imagine these in a collage of mistletoe, with the nice holly border. Come on. It could be a new trend.

FOG MACHINE GONE ROGUE

September 24, 2014annegribbins Leave a comment

THE FOG MACHINE GONE ROGUE

Written for McCarter Theatre’s website as a story in the Backstage/Onstage horror stories portion of the resource guide for the production of The Understudy

When I was a young teenage dancer in The Nutcracker, Princeton Ballet Company used dry ice for the opening of the second act, “Land of the Sweets”. During intermission, they would start up the dry ice machine and fill the stage with fog so that the “sleeping” divertissements on each side would be shrouded in mist as the curtain opened. They were then revealed by the Sugar Plum Fairy as Clara and the Prince made their entrance. A nice effect, but it ended up being a bit of a hazard to those of us that had to dance as the “Crystal Candy Violets” in the opening scene.

The dry ice machine (I’m guessing it was probably not top-of-the-line) would leak occasionally—well, more than occasionally—leaving large puddles in certain areas of the stage, or a stream of water spewing behind it as the crew wheeled it off the stage into the wings. The problem was, you couldn’t actually SEE where the puddles were, because, well, they were covered in dry ice.

Dew Drop Fairy, 1986

After the first few times this happened, we became smarter and would arm ourselves with paper towels, and as the music for the overture started and the stage crew was leaving, we would mop up what we could see in the wake of their exit trail in the 5-10 seconds we had before the curtain came up. If we could actually see where the puddles were, we would wave to each other across the stage with hand signals like those guys on the airport runway to let each other know which panels to avoid so we wouldn’t slip and fall in our beautiful lavender tutus.

That’s me as a Party Child in the McCarter Theater wardrobe room, circa 1980

Polichinelles in American Repertory Ballet’s current version of The Nutcracker

Once the fog cleared, occasionally there would be small lakes of water left upstage near the scrim, and if it didn’t appear that it would dry before the Dew Drop Fairy or the Sugar Plum Fairy were going to dance at the end of the act, the ballet master or mistress would arm the Polichinelles, the younger dancers who came out from underneath Mother Ginger’s large skirt, with paper towels. Their dance was kind of raucous and fun, so the mission was to mop up as much of the water as they could (without detracting from their own choreography of course) – then the Principal dancers would not have to worry about slipping on the water. The funny thing about that, of course, is that there was no receptacle on stage for the wet paper towels once they had been used, (and I don’t think they wanted to hand them to Clara or the Prince as a present)—so kids would stick them back into their tights or costume, causing some odd looking lumps in interesting places.

Just a day in the life of The Nutcracker! (And thankfully they have long since given up on the dry ice).

Read more “Backstage/Onstage Horror Stories” (or submit your own!) here: http://www.mccarter.org/theunderstudy/3-explore/backstageonstagehorrorstories.html

For more information about McCarter Theatre’s upcoming production of The Understudy: http://www.mccarter.org/theunderstudy/home.html

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