June 17, 2016
Dear Everyone:
Speaking for
myself, we all had a lovely time in
New York.
Lots of lazy days doing pretty much nothing.
Lots of occasional side trips to picturesque little
New England
towns in the middle of nowhere for very little reason.
Lots of knitting (“Jeannie”) and
crocheting (me) while shaking
our heads over pontificating politicians on the TV.
And then there
was the
Hudson Valley Shakespeare Festival, celebrating its 30th
Anniversary. For three
nights in a row, six of us piled into a car and drove to a spot
overlooking the Hudson River where they hold the Festival.
Instead of a big
theater, they had a tent over bleachers and a central sand-covered
stage. Set decoration
consisted of a few props and some moveable lighting fixtures.
Actors changed roles by the simple maneuver of adding a hat, or
dropping a cloak. The entire
cast of Macbeth consisted of three actors, all of whom happened to be
female.
The other two
plays were
As You Like It and
Measure for Measure. All
three were delightful, as expected.
“Jeannie” commented that the smaller size and relaxed atmosphere
were reminiscent of the
Oregon Shakespeare Festival when we first
started attending in 1974.
We even chatted with a member of the Company during the Intermission one
evening.
What was
decidedly not expected was the weather.
It was June. In New
York. In other words, it
should have been hot and humid.
Instead, we just about froze to death.
Even the actors were bundling up in between scenes.
That bone-chilling wind blowing off the Hudson River didn’t help.
Ironically, while
Ashland was sweltering in the low 100s, New York was topping out at 63
degrees, with a definite wind chill factor.
This precipitated an emergency trip to a picturesque little New
England shopping mall, where we loaded up on light jackets.
I had brought a crocheted poncho that I suspected was going to be
too warm to wear for more than an evening.
It was no match for the remarkably-cooler-than-usual weather.
“Alice” and “Kelly” had to remove the brand-new
air conditioning
unit from my bedroom window and replace it with a space heater.
Nevertheless, we
all had a really good time.
The return trip
was marginally marred by the fact that our plane sat at the gate for
nearly two hours before we could leave the airport.
Something about “missing paperwork”.
We finally got home fairly late on Tuesday night.
Since then, I’ve
had to replace no less than three boxes of
Kleenex.
It’s not that I was going through tissues that much, just that
they all seem to run out at the same time.
Bedroom. Bathroom.
Kitchen. Living room.
Doesn’t matter where.
It seems like they all belong to the same
union, or something.
What I want to know is:
How do they communicate with each other?
Love, as always,
Pete
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