L. Frank Baum, the author of the Wizard of Oz, spent a short time here in town as a student at the Peekskill Military Academy. (Being a loosey -goosey creative sort, he hated it.)
At this point in the city’s history, the roads were paved with bricks. Yellow Ones. Peekskill was a somewhat serious port in those days, and Belgian ships would bring over yellow bricks as ballast, before they headed home with their iron products manufactured here in Peekskill. (I’m sure you can see where I’m going with this.)
When the pavement wears through and large potholes happen, we frequently get down to the yellow brick road.
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Well, you can imagine. Many Peekskill folks have claimed Baum’s inspiration for the yellow brick road as local. There’s even a Wizard of Oz themed event every year at our local restored movie palace, The Paramount.
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A section of preserved road, on private land.
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I’ve thought a few times about producing a musical at the Paramount. However, the things I like to do are more suited to a black-box or a parlor theatre. The Paramount is a football field.
All is going along nicely here.
I’m visiting Florida in a few weeks. Principally to spend time with my Mom, but I’ll also get to see my dear friend K! It’s so nice to be in close touch with a few folks from high school.
The teeny-tiny 1920s musical about a person whose name has a Z in it is finished and ready for a first read. However, one needs performers for such things. We are going to wait until after the school year starts to announce auditions. Seems prudent.
To start, I’m fine. I believe I mentioned earlier that I had an infection at a surgical site which went away and then immediately came back worse. Very bad. Approaching sepsis. (During this, the bathroom renovation went belly up and two vacations were canceled.) However, it is gone now, I’m getting my strength back, and I feel better than I have in a very long time. I mowed our postage stamp size front yard yesterday. =)
I think I might’ve mentioned I was working on an adaptation of 1728’s The Beggar’s Opera. Didn’t work out. I was enjoying the work, but the details, places, people, customs and occupations of 1728 London are all things that would have to be very clearly explained to a modern audience. That would result in a well-over-two-hour musical, it could possibly prove tedious, and that’s not what I’m after. I’m after small, meaningful, and fun.
So I’ve started something else. At this point, I’ll say that it is a two person musical (plus the non-speaking pianist character) based on the local stay of a very famous, very fun, very complicated person from the 1920s/1930s. The first 15 minutes is currently being read by a few people. Interestingly, it’s revealed itself to me as about 75% sung and 25% spoken. I’m having a good time.
The garden is at peak!
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And of course, I’ve already got a good amount of herbs in hanging and drying. A few stalks of sage, basil, oregano, and thyme so far.
Since I recently updated my ancient Facebook account (I only look at it once or twice a year — Marketplace.) At any rate, probably best not to post anything to me there. I’m on Instagram as well if you’d like.
Since we’ve already had a lot of folks joining us here that I haven’t spoken to in quite a while, I thought I’d do a little bit of a catch up. (Yeah, this is going to be a very long post. I’ll intersperse some photos.)
J and I now live in Westchester, in a charming downtown, short walking distance from the train station and less than an hour from midtown Manhattan. A few blocks from the Hudson River. We bought this 1100 ft.² 3/1 project-house cottage just about six years ago.
The original part of the house was built in the 1840s, it was extended in the 1880s, and I’ve been renovating since we moved in.
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(A fun photo in the cellar!)
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It is truly my avocation. When we bought it, the first thing I did was tear the front room of the house off and rebuild the original covered porch. Every board, rail, and post — hand cut, all wood, all me, no pre-fab whatsoever.
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The day we closed, and a few months later.
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There was a big initial construction push; but then … two bouts of cancer, several operations, and finally a quadruple 10-hour operation with four Columbia specialists last July. This sidelined reno for about three years. I have my challenges, but I am absolutely fine now. I am nearing a year in complete remission. I’m officially disabled with the tag, parking spot in front of the house, etc. But, you probably wouldn’t know it just to look at me. It’s a neuropathy and chronic fatigue situation, besides the fact that they removed a lot of my insides. (Seriously.)
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Renovations resumed just recently in full! While we were on vacation, we had our close friend, nextdoor neighbor, and contractor tear down the 1 inch thick plaster-and-lathe ceiling in the large kitchen to expose the huge 180-year-old beams. (This was something I was never going to do on my own. Too big, awful, and unpleasant.) I’m now in the process of doing all the finishing work and putting the kitchen back together the way we want it. Very cottage-core, or course. The work is challenging, very creative, very satisfying, and I’ve learned to pace myself. Updates will come on that soon. It’s looking gorgeous.
I am, as always, a Director of Music and Organist at a local church, which I love. I’ve been there six years as well. My friends there were an enormous help during my very serious health challenges. I also teach piano and other instruments privately, but I’m very selective about who I teach, and only have seven students over three days, 30 minutes each.
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I suppose if I haven’t spoken to you in quite a while, I’ve also developed quite a travel bug. I was in London a few months ago, we were in the Catskills a week ago, I’m in Orlando in a week and a half, and in July I’m visiting my mom for a week in Tampa.
While I’m in Tampa, our contractor is tearing out the fiberglass tub/shower situation and putting in a huge, deep, wide tub. Also tiled walls, and vintage shower fixtures. (The tub will be a big help for me. One of the things that helps me most is doing my PT exercises while in hot/warm water.)
It’s the old story I suppose — feeling a little better but acting like you feel a lot better.
I noticed today that pretty much every time I was home this week, I was sleeping. Like, all the time. So I reviewed my week.
Sunday is a five hour day, and much of that is playing the organ, hyper-focusing, teaching some parts, handling social anxiety when in a group. Blah blah.
Monday, I didn’t have anything going on officially, but I had errands to run and a bunch of music stuff to do at home. I wrote an arrangement for one tune and started on another.
Tuesday was a palliative care doc appointment and a run to the store on one side of town, and then a run to a store way on the other side of town. Then, 90 minutes of teaching and some house cleanup stuff.
Wednesday was a nutritionist appointment, and a bit of teaching. In between, I did some leaf blowing and dug up and replanted the three plants in the front yard. (Unknowingly, I originally planted them in a very buggy spot. The bugs were eating them.)
Today is Thursday, and of course, I woke up exhausted. I had a prescription to pick up, and a few things to grab at the store, so I forced myself out and did all that so I’d have the rest of the day with no commitments. Ugh. I was getting to the point where I was unknowingly dragging my feet and tripping every once in a while.
Real Life of course, does not go away. Adding to the usual tasks, there’s medical stuff that has to go on in between times, my food to be monitored and cooked, and pills to remember to take on a schedule. Not a huge deal, but another set of things to think about that all take time. Never mind liaising with Jonathan and getting basic household stuff taken care of. At least I moved the plants. 🪴
Yep. It takes a bit of time and effort to keep me standing, alive, friendly, and looking like I can accomplish something. And now, of course, as I’m reading this weekly roundup, I’m thinking, “What’s wrong with you?!” Simmer down!”
I had to pick up a prescription (it’s nearly my hobby at this point), so I grabbed a cup of my favorite coffee and grabbed some ice cream for a sequestering treat . (Recommendation – Oreo brand Cookies & Cream.)
I can’t believe it’s 2 o’clock already, however, now we rest for two days! If an asteroid hits the planet or the Hudson River breaks its banks, Tell Jonathan. He’ll wake me up. 😴
I’ve been writing to pass the time — I have a half+ draft of of a very Dickensian chamber musical written. If you’re familiar with Dickens and/or the Romantic Poets; it’s principally about the Micawbers, Nell Clenham, and Thomas Gray.
Its usual fate would be this: Printed out, bound, and put in a drawer unproduced. That’s 100% okay. I have a few of these unfinished on top of the upstairs piano. It would sting a little to banish this one though, because I think it’s quite good.
The last time I produced a musical I was swimming in actors and theater people. Since moving, I don’t have the theatrical friends I used to, we’re all spread out now. After a point, I don’t work very well alone. Eventually, you need to make demo recordings, bounce ideas around, and read out loud with another person.
I decided I’m going to be actively on the lookout, but I haven’t decided quite how. I’ll be looking for a baritone-tenor to work with, who could then take the role of Thomas as things progress.
I looked at the rates and specs for the Paramount theatre around the corner. It’s beautiful, but it’s way, way, way too big. I knew it would be. It’s a good thing — if it were 50% the size and didn’t have a balcony, I’d have been tempted to get out my checkbook.
The Peekskill Paramount
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There’s a super-cute small theater about a sixty-second walk from our house. (No kidding!) It’s a “nope” though. It’s marketed as a wedding/events/catering venue. Of course, its rates reflect that.
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I think I probably gasped when I was given the dollar signs for this beautiful, quirky little place. But, being what it is, it would cost several thousand dollars for just one afternoon/evening. Plus, no piano. (And I don’t need canapés at intermission.)
My peculiar little five-person musical play would be most at home in a small 19th century lecture hall or an old stone meeting house, even the large parlor of a grand home. So, that search continues.
But first things first. If you know a “Thomas” candidate, send him my way! We’ll do a video submission. He’d be late 20s/early 30s, handy to Westchester, theatre experience, baritone/tenor, perhaps a bit awkward. I imagine an Adrian Brody type.
Sit Still Phill 