A few weeks ago, we had a Christmas party. We started this tradition about a decade or so when we both left the full-time newspaper business.
We look forward to the event every year and never have a bad time. Even with the bad weather – it rained all day this year – the 2009 edition turned out as wonderful as ever. Except for one thing.
At no point in the party did we all sit around in a circle and break into an impromptu sing-along of holiday songs.
I enjoy making people laugh, especially my family. Several times a week, I express mock anger because Maria did not laugh at a joke or pithy comment.
But even I have to draw the line when I know I’m being made fun of.
When Bridget started school five years ago, we made an important decision to have as much involvement in her school life as possible. That has made the PTO an important part of our lives.
One night last week, I offered to help Maria with getting the presents to teachers from the PTO together. She has worked a lot this holiday season and needed a break.
So I started out with something simple – cutting string. I could totally handle that. I measured eight inches, cut and moved on. No problems at all.
Then I hauled boxes of t-shirts into the house. Again, something that was right up my alley. I felt very helpful and even cracked a few jokes in the process.
But the fun soon came to an end. Well, at least it did for me. My wife and daughter were getting ready for some serious comedy.
By now, everyone has probably heard about the Salahis, the couple which went to a state dinner at The White House without an invitation.
If you haven’t, count yourself lucky. This couple joins the ever-growing ranks of people intent on doing whatever it takes to become famous for no real reason at all.
They wanted to get on the latest incarnation of the “Real Housewives” franchise – something that is neither real nor features housewives, but that’s a whole different topic – and like to put themselves in the spotlight.
Which is how they ended up pushing and pushing for an invitation to the state dinner until some Secret Service agents basically decided they weren’t worth dealing with and let them in.
So what do we do now? There has been a lot of talk about punishing White House staff and the Secret Service guys who let them through. That’s all well and good. My first suggestion is that when someone shows up and isn’t on the guest list, but insists they belong, the first question should be “Have you ever been on or aspired to be on a reality show?”
Most of the time, I enjoy change. I like experiencing new things and seeing what I may have previously missed.
But there are kinds of change I don’t like. I recently discovered one of them when I had to travel for business. I hate changing time zones.
I’m not talking about heading to Illinois for a few days and having to remember that everything is one hour off. I went to Vancouver on the west coast and had to suffer through that three-hour swing.
Yes, I said suffer because not only did my body not know what time it was, all the TV stations were different, it rained the whole time, and I couldn’t access web sites like Hulu to entertain me in my hotel room. That’s just cruel.
I can do this.
That’s the thought which went through my head when the spotlight first hit me on opening night for “Miracle on 34th Street.” I had never really acted before – other than acting like a grownup for the past 20 years or pretending I knew what I was talking about in general conversation – but something felt right.
I could not have predicted this a couple of months ago when I initially agreed to play a small non-speaking role in the production at Hanover High School. As I wrote a few weeks ago, this all evolved into the role of Mr. Macy.
I may not have shown it in rehearsal, but I struggled at first. I knew I could project my voice since I have decades of experience trying to be heard above the crowd at family parties.
But I worried about succeeding beyond the volume. Would I get any laughs? Would I sound authentic? Would I remember my lines?