Spoke by Coleman

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On working with people who are better than you (redux)

10/14/2015

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Roughly six months ago, I wrote a column with this title - referencing several actors who were so damn good that they challenged the heck out of me and consequently made my own work better.

Well, here we are again.

This time the culprit is an actor name Sean Langenecker. ​

Sean's a little, well, off-kilter - at first glance. But that's just an illusion. He's definitely in a league and often a world of his own. He's high-spirited, zany, energetic, handsome, and like many actors - actually rather shy. He's playing the eccentric Christopher Wren in Strollers Theatre's current production of The Mousetrap. And with every line, every movement, every entrance and exit and even when he's sitting still on stage - he pushes the envelope. On opening night last week, it felt like when Sean was on stage all the oxygen in the room was being taken up.

I suppose it would not be unnatural for a fellow actor to resent his powerful presence. I liken it to what I imagine it would be if I could act with, say, Carol Burnett. Carol Burnett worked with a lot of great talent, but when she was on stage, no matter who else was in the scene - the stage belonged to Carol Burnett. She had that magic.

So does Sean. ​​​ I hope he has some inkling of how good he is.

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On the Pope, my mother and Dorothy Day

9/25/2015

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Dorothy Day was a most ordinary woman. If you encountered her on the streets of New York or any other city, you would likely not have cast a second glance. Soft spoken, she seemed to me to walk through the world simultaneously resolutely and cautiously – as if she always knew just where she was going, while always sensitive to whatever or whomever she might encounter. She had a strong, firm handshake, which matched the steady gaze from her kind eyes when she looked at you.

My mother was fortunate to live the last year of her life at the 1st Street Catholic Worker in lower Manhattan, in Dorothy Day’s own quarters. I’d gotten to know Dorothy in the previous couple of years, through my friendship with Daniel Berrigan, and I had visited many times. I also had three friends (Bonnie, Barbara and Dale) from Oklahoma who had moved to New York and were now regular volunteers at the Worker.

Of course I was aware of Dorothy’s history and her importance to so many people. I knew how her Catholic Worker “House of Hospitality” had been replicated in more than a hundred communities around the world. I knew how simply she herself lived.

Still, when I think back on it, I must not have appreciated fully the gift I had been given – to spend time in her presence, to engage her in quiet conversation, to break bread with her at the 1st Street soup kitchen where my mother volunteered.

I was not surprised that this Pope honored Dorothy Day by acknowledging her words and her life in his address before Congress yesterday. Pope Francis is after all a Jesuit, and it always seemed that the Jesuits “got” Dorothy Day, more than other Catholics especially the various Popes in Rome during her lifetime, to whom Dorothy was often a thorn in their side.

So here’s to you, Dorothy Day, for some long-overdue ray of recognition for your service and your example.

And thank you, for being so good to my mom.


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Welcome to my cellblock, Mr. President

7/14/2015

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This Thursday, President Obama will become the first president to visit a federal prison.

I hope he gets a chance to see where I bunked in July, 1968, when I was imprisoned there after being sentenced to five years in prison for refusing to fight in Vietnam.

But more than that, I hope he gets to meet with inmates sentenced to 20 years or more for minor drug offenses.

Thank you, Mr. President, for shining a light on a human rights tragedy of major proportion and vowing to do something about it. May your leadership inspire others to help us discard this heinous system of warehousing millions of American men and women, costing us billions of dollars and wasting millions of lives.
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On Public Works

6/26/2015

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I believe in government. How could I not.

Government is what we all accomplish together. It’s not one sect or another. It’s not this community or that. It’s all of us. Working together for the common good.


It sickens me that there is such naysaying about government, and such little attention (and even less funding) to public works – the physical expression of what we can do together for each other.

Maybe that’s why I’m so excited about the 606 – Chicago’s new 2.7 mile elevated bike/running/walking trail. Last night I walked the trail, and this morning I biked it four times back and forth.

Wow. Elevated above the city and winding through city neighborhoods, it’s a zen paradise in the midst of urban madness. The 606 has become my favorite new Chicago destination, and I plan on trekking of biking it on every visit.

We need more public works. We need old infrastructure repaired and we need new visions, like the 606, realized.

Congratulations, Chicago. Do more. Let’s hope we all do more.

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On Lame Excuses

6/12/2015

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This afternoon I attended a one hour talk-back session with our state representative, Todd Novak. The topic was the egregious education policy changes written into the proposed Wisconsin state budget, poised for approval by the state legislature. This budget will effectively transfer millions of dollars of tax dollars from public to private education, stripping public schools of desperately needed funds, and filling the coffers of for-profit private enterprises that are currently universally religious in nature.

Approximately thirty concerned citizens attended, including parents and administrators and school board members from a number of schools in this legislative district. Not one person spoke in favor of the proposed changes. The attendees came armed with facts and figures, detailing exactly how much money each school in the district stood to lose as public funds, collected locally, flow to private schools located outside our district. These private schools will also, according to the policy written into the ‘budget’, not have to answer to any standards or tests, which are required of the public schools. They can teach anything they want. They can teach nothing at all. They have to follow no standards.

Add to this the unimaginable proposal to eliminate even minimal requirements for teachers, and you have a clusterfuck of major proportion. The current proposal before the legislature would allow anyone to teach, without any teacher training, without a bachelor degree, hell – even without a high school degree. This proposal has made Wisconsin the laughing stock of the country, even the world. Rep. Novak said that the language for this section of the budget is being ‘pulled back’ because there has been some outrage over it – but it’s only being pulled back in part.

It was a wretched way to spend an hour – tormenting oneself with the harsh realities of what a Republican governor and a Republican State Senate and a Republican State Assembly want to do to public education in this state.

But the worst of it was not the endless list of calamities that this legislation will inflict, bad as they are. What offended me the most was Rep. Novak saying, no less than eighteen times in one hour: “Unfortunately, the train has left the station …” And then he would shrug, and smile and pretend to commiserate with the parents and educators who universally – to the very last person in the room – opposed the proposed changes that promise to eviserate public education in this state.

The train has left the station.

And with this glib statement, Rep. Novak washed his hands, again and again and again, of the problem. When an attendee challenged his hiding behind this phrase toward the end of the hour long meeting, he intoned that he only meant to say that the move toward privatization in education started before he was elected to the Assembly, and that it’s not going to be stopped now. His response was hardly a response at all. It doesn’t matter whether this travesty was initiated ten years ago or ten minutes ago – shrugging your shoulders and meekly smiling is not an acceptable answer to a constituency that is outraged by the back-door dealings of private school profiteers and legislators in Madison.

We deserve a better answer. We deserve a better state representative – one who will represent us and not simply vote the party line. We deserve (our children deserve) better schools.

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On Writing

6/1/2015

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By now I've used up every possible excuse for not writing. It's simply to time to give up, pick up a keyboard and go to work.

My most recent excuse is that my 3 year old Surface PC died, and I do my "best" writing in bed with my mini-computer, or at the doghouse with same. Well, now I have a new Lenovo mini-computer (much better than that frigging Surface, which is shit, in spite of what the ads say) - and I've downloaded all the software I need and got it all set up.

So what am I waiting for?

Nothing.

This is Monday. Tomorrow is Tuesday. Tomorrow I start a regimen of writing every morning, first thing when I wake up.

We'll see if it works. It did before. It might again.
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On Being in the Doghouse

5/23/2015

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By choice, I am spending part of each day in the doghouse, and once a week, or so, I try to sleep there as well.

My doghouse is located deep in our woods, almost a half mile from our house. It is perched on a trail carved by deer and hangs over a spring fed creek.

Yesterday, as I sat on the wooden slatted bench under the covered porch, an elegant form circled twice over my head before landing in a branch about ten feet from me and at eye level. A great blue heron. I sat motionless for several minutes while it preened its feathers, then it majestically spread its wings and floated off down the stream.

The doghouse is a technology-free zone. It was built without electricity and that is how it stands. Inside, there is a sleeping loft, a small table and two chairs, and a small pot bellied stove. There are huge windows on three sides.

All day and night the creek gurgles loudly as the water rushes over the stones. In the day, a thousand birds chirp. In the evening, a thousand frogs croak. At night, I snore.
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On ending things ...

5/14/2015

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Everything ends.

Life itself. A flower. A moment. A heartbeat. They all have an end.

This weekend ends the run of my three month association with a fine, fine crew of artists who collaborated on Death of a Salesman. And I admit no small element of distress. When one is embraced in a luxurious blanket of creativity by a cadre of artists who are universally generous and talented and kind, well, it's just not the sort of thing you want to end.

There's only one thing to do. Well - two things, actually. First, enjoy the hell out of this last weekend. Second, hope that around some unforeseen corner there might lie another opportunity as rich and fulfilling as this one has been.

Thanks Matt, Chris, Ned, Paula, Jaimie, Jordan, Chris, Joshua, Joe, Jo, Katie.

Thanks.
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On contemplating suicide

5/4/2015

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Spoiler alert: I am not going to kill myself.

But as Willy Loman in Death of a Salesman, every night I have to crawl into that dark hole. I have to take the time before the lights dim, to commit to the idea that I, Willy Loman, am going to kill myself.

I've always intellectually understood suicide. I've experienced it as a family member and friend of others who have committed suicide. But it's never been part of my DNA. I'm in favor of assisted suicide for the terminally ill (that makes sense to me, (rather than a prolonged and pointless suffering). But personally - I really, really like breathing and all that comes with it. The laughter, the tears, the pain, the pleasure.

Death of a Salesman is a three hour play. I need at least two hours before the performance to prepare, and at least two hours after to decompress. That adds up to seven hours every performance night that I am wallowing in contemplation of my (Willy's) suicide.

Ultimately even Willy is only able to make the commitment by lying to himself - by convincing himself that his death will benefit his favored son. Every night, Willy walks resolutely off to his own demise, simultaneously pleased and disturbed, proud and afraid of the decision he has made.

From the first line of the first scene, Willy is considering his own death. That colors the delivery and shape of every word Willy speaks, every event and person he dredges up from his imagination and memory, every reaction he has to what happens around and to him.

I guess I'm not making this sound like a 'fun' performance to attend - and fun is not really what we are aiming at. And yet - there is an exhilaration that comes from exploring so intimately the darkest thoughts of this iconic American stage character. And my fellow actors are so good - they push and push and push back at me (at Willy). Every night they make me see a line, a word, a scene in a different light.

It's a hell of an experience.
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On working with people who are better than you

4/29/2015

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If you are lucky, you get to work with people who are better than you.

It's intimidating, sure. It can even be a bit depressing, to think (or know) that you aren't quite up to their remarkable standards. But it's only when you work with people better than you, that you get the opportunity to really stretch yourself. To push way beyond boundaries you didn't even know you had.

That's what working on Death of a Salesman has been like to me. In particular, Jamie England and Jordan Peterson. Jesus Christ, these animals can act. I've learned so much from them, and each night they challenge me to dig deeper.

I'm still digging. They're still challenging. We've three weeks to go.
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