We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
One cool aspect of this production of the bawdy love, sex, and fantasy farce is that 5 actors play all of the roles - with no costumes. Thus the dreamlike confusion is created. No props, no set, so your imagination fills in the details like a dream.
The sober-minded (but rarely sober) Samuel Pepys saw the play in the early 1600s and thought it ridiculous. It is, sort-of, but it has had a long shelf life thus far for some reason.
The play within a play within a dream is so intentionally dumb that it's funny. Sheesh, the guy's plays were meant to be plain entertainment and not to be taken seriously. He just wanted to get rich by appealing to all levels of society and education from the Queen to the stable groom and he had a good enough grammar school education to do that. Once he got rich and maybe had his fill of girlfriends, he quit.
We had the usual fine post-matinee supper at what has become our favorite place in that neighborhood, The West Bank Cafe. The kids told us how much they enjoyed having seen - and met the author - of the clever musical Hamilton on Broadway. Since they are discerning and discriminating theater-goers, I'll listen to them. (That daughter is an ambitious playwright and script-writer. Actress too.)
I informed them that Hamilton's farmhouse still stands in far-uptown Manhattan. He used to ride his horse up the dirt road (an old Indian trail) Broadway to his farm on weekends.
Daughter informed me that she rides her new bike 30 miles/day to her various NYC activities and jobs, and is growing strong legs. I advised wearing a reflector vest because my kids are precious to me. Hamilton did not need one.
Mrs. BD overschedules me with social events and outings, but I man up and try to deal with it like a good, cheerful spouse: Happy wife, happy life.
My pic is the Pearl on the far west end of 42nd St. High-rise expensive housing is booming in that area and streets are full of happy-looking people of every size, shape, color, socioeconomic type, and ethnicity. What a city!
The late lamented Marianne Matthews - ex-NewYorker living in Houston - used to love my NYC posts. These days (except for Bulldog) I mostly get grouchy comments. I promise that if you spent a few days banging around the City with us you would change your tune.
You won't get grouchy comments from this Canadian: on every occasion we've been to NYC, we've loved it.
Back in 1998, I popped a surprise anniversary trip there on my wife. We flew in and enjoyed a long, glorious summer weekend, taking in Les Miz, wandering through Times Square, doing a couple of galleries and eating far too well.
One of my favourite photos of my wife was taken on the Ellis Island ferry with Manhattan in the background.
Sadly though, it shows my wife, relaxed and beaming for the camera in the foreground; in the background just to her right, there are the Twin Towers.
NYC was my last active duty assignment in the Navy and I really enjoyed it. After being on a destroyer at Pearl Harbor, NYC was like a vacation every day. When I got off the ship I filled out the dream sheet requesting shore duty in the Philippines or Japan and was sent to Naval Station Brooklyn instead. The people at the Bureau of Personnel obviously had a sense of humor.