Vergil's Coffee Table

I woke up sort of whiny and slightly damp from the air conditioner. Because of the late night (or early morning) arrival, I had already decided to skip a morning run and do some stuff in the city. So I disrobed and stepped into the shower that didn’t have any shampoo, and turned on the water to “Hot.” Or at least that’s how I read the dial on the shower water control-thing. No hot water, so I figured that I was faucet illiteratre and perhaps there was some trick to summoning the hot water from the “Good Morning Traveler” gods, but no such luck or intervention. Then I thought I should just let the water pipes warm up (it seemed to have worked in my house and perhaps there were lots of showers this morning and perhaps all the hot water ran out.) So continued to stand there in my weary nakedness turning the dial back and forth, back and forth trying to feel with my fingers any degree of temperature change. None. So I called the front desk, or better yet, picked up the phone to dial the front desk, but no dial tone. Dead the phone was. I got dressed, walked down to the front desk and asked the question.

I suppose at this point I was wondering if this was payback for checking in late. I suppose I also wondered if the price of the room included warm water for the shower. I stopped and decided to try the bathroom sink. Cold. How about the kitchen sink? Cold. I was at the end of possibilities so I decided one more thing before I went to the front desk: I used my reading for information skills on a non-fiction text and scanned the “Guest Services” brochure for any mention of hot water included along with the working TV, microwave oven and alarm clock. I didn’t find “hot water” anywhere so I was seeing how I could pay for an amenity that I thought came standard at any hotel.

“Oh,” front desk woman said. “They’ve shut the hot water off to work on it.”

“Oh,” I replied, waiting for some type indication of what I ought to do. So I asked/confirmed “Cold shower?”

“I guess so,” she smiled.

Fortunately I was prepared for the stark reality of a cold shower. Usually my body and lips spaz out and it’s reminds me of when someone shocks you with static electricity. I suppose, for me, I look like some guy (some sober guy like that CNN reporter) getting tazed. The shower wasn’t that dramatic and because our pool water has slowly uncolded from +68 f to a balmy +76f, I actually soaped and rinsed without any blubbering complaints of it being too cold.

I like Kansas City, Missouri and on my way to stop for coffee and a place to type, I kept wondering if this was really the Midwest (if Missouri claims to be a part of the states between the coast). I suppose I’ve been used to a town such as Cleveland or South Bend that are attempting to redefine their respective downtowns but the economy keeps getting in the way. In Kansas City there were all the trappings of a town that seems to know itself and seems to be thriving. Sure there were the parts that seemed uncomfortable at night, but the overwhelming tone was that there’s stuff to do here.

I need to pause for a moment and come out of the closet about something and perhaps, this is my greatest obsticle: I don’t get out much. When I do get out, it’s to the same places over and over again. It’s not so much a phobia as much as a reliance on consistency. Some call this tendency “boring” or “homebody” or “unadventureous.” I admit it, but sometimes think that the oppositte is just plain overrated. But recently, since a trip with some teachers to a conference in Atlanta, I’ve started to order different things besides chicken. I’ve also delved into the world of sushi and I think Lori is happy that we can share some of that seaweed wrapped morsels that once, just the mention of sushi, would turn my stomach. And that’s how it is, isn’t, most of the times? We have heard that something isn’t interesting or doesn’t taste good, or, possibly more accurate: we don’t have a frame of reference to experience the thing in a positive manner.

And that’s what I knew I would be facing during this summer: traveling to different, newer places with no real frame of reference and allowing the experience to be a positive one. The plays I knew would be the easy part. My experience with that art we call literature or classical plays is that if you are patient, all the stuff from the first half will make sense and will make for an interesting ending. The traveling, the new rooms and the possibility now of no hot water, was the thing that I knew would stretch me in a different direction.

That doesn’t keep me from eating at Panera (that haven for free wifi) or typing at Barnes & Noble. I simply don’t have the extra money to make this a cultural reflection of each new city I drive into. I’m not Anthony Bordain nor am I Bill Bryson. I am Chris and I’m seeing what happens when you see all of William Shakespeare’s plays in one summer in the States. In short, I’m still trying to figure out what to do besides see plays and write about them. All I know now is that I’ve seen five different plays in five different places and no venue has been a repeated experience. I guess then, my idea was to create many frames of reference for myself.

I took a long, warmer shower at my newer hotel. This room cost $10 more that the previous night and I honestly almost cried when I opened my 1411 room door and saw the King size bed and the little towel bunny-thing on the sitting chair to the right. I like saving money and I like being frugal, but every once in awhile, it is just nice to have a decent room and people asking you–in all sincerity–“Is there anything we can do to make your stay more comfortable?” I stopped by a Jimmy Johns for my carry-in dinner and found parking on one of the back streets near Southmoreland Park.

As I walked to the south gate, I got to over hear a preshow speaker addressing 50 seated people about the historical context of the play. I was going to give a “yeah, right” smirk as I walked by, thinking the speaker man was going to start talking about the authorship of the play, but I refrained from being a know-it-all and I don’t really think he was going in that direction. The south gate entryway had English-speaking, Shakespearean-time folk asking so politely if we’d like to lighten out wallets as we walked into the grounds. “And you young man?” referring to me on fellow asked. “Of course, sir” and I gave my donation and he slapped a “I Gave of My Own Free Will” sticker my shirt and gave me a retangle pin bearing the same message. I think this was the first time thus far that I was given something besides a “Thank you very much” for donating to one of these free performances. It’s a good idea, you know. I still have the tangable reminder of my time and my donation and if I lived in the area, I would probably stick these reminders on my refrigerator. Mine goes on my program and I’ll probably keep the pin or give it to one of my sons.

And then it’s more Renassainse Faire-like with more tents and more signs bearing some play upon Shakespeare and people in full costume. I didn’t get to see the puppet show, but the whole area felt festive and the seating area on the hill ahead was filling up fast. I found a place toward the back, but in an aisle and by the time the performance began, there were people in chairs five or eight rows behind me. I got the guy who talks during movies sitting next to me (a doctor from the local university I guessed) who gave commentary to his friends over sliced meats, beer and wine. I didn’t think you can drink alcohol in public areas such as these venues, but you certainly can in Kansas City, Missouri. I think the people to my front left went through many a bottle of various white wines and were taking “kissing pictures” by the end of intermission. I suppose since it was Friday, it was a nice way to unwind. And perhaps that is the better way to see Shakespeare live (especially a comedy such as “The Merry Wives of Windsor” with its much drinking on stage): a little disinhibitor takes the edge off reality and allows for the illusion of art to work its way into your soul. Or, if anything, you’ll laugh a lot.

This stage was a little tighter than last night’s production in Omaha and the hill that we sat on sloped a little more steeply that reminded me of the seating for “Cymbeline” in Harrisburg, PA. The effect is a little more intimate and there really isn’t a bad place to sit in the area.

I laughed a lot during this production as I should since it is a comedy. If you remember the story, Jack Falstaff (possibly reused from the history plays because he was such a popular character) is running out of money and he decides to woo two women, who are both married, for the cold cash. Falstaff is overconfident in his “loving” ways and is sure that both women, Mistress Page and Mistress Ford, will fall for his inspiring words and fat looks and thus give him all that he wants. Not to belabor the story, but no one can keep a secret in the play and every one is ready to play Jack Falstaff the fool. What we’re left with is a wonderful set up for a completely ridiculous ending with fake fairies, spirits and a Jack Falstaff with antlers on his head.

The play really seems to hinge on how well Jack Falstaff is played and equally how well the Mistresses are played. What suprises me about this production is how well all the main and minor characters play. Even from the opening scene, where we have the problem that will be worked out in the end, the comedy begins…right away. We have a running gag introduced (Slender raising his hat with both hands quite frequently) and characters who have defined mannerisms (such as Shallow sort of skip/hopping with his cane much like that of a monkey). The costumes were vivid, funny colors on the Misstresses, Anne Page, Slender and the Doctor Caius. The stage portrayed a time in Shakespeare’s day, as each of the plays that I’ve seen have been classical in nature (that is, trying to reflect an interpretation of the age as opposed to the popular changing of the setting: time and place).

Jack Falstaff (Phil Fiorini) played the audience and so did most of the characters when they would do their asides. But it was really Fiorini that worked the crowd through his lines. And I suppose that’s what make a comedy a comedy. It’s not so much in the funny situations or lines; it’s in the saying and in the delivery that makes the situation or lines funny. I don’t think I’ve realized this before, but the same stand up/improv ideas that I wrote about “The Complete Works” production, also could apply to performing a Shakespearean comedy: perform for and with the crowd. At one point, Fiorini says a line that has a completely body part reference and he pauses for the audience and sort of gestures “know get it?” And there was that interplay with the audience with other cast members. I like that idea. How can you do comedy when the actors don’t acknowledge the audience? I think there is some debate over this and that “breaking down the 5th wall” thing. I don’t think it was overdone in any respect, but this comedy with and for the audience–I think–honors the text and allows us the audience to catch up with the puns before they get away.

It was a good crowd, like the others I’ve seen so far. There were the many families, the new and older couples, the cross-dressed guy and his girl friend in front of me, and there was the teenager who told her also teenage friend over the cell phone “I’m suffering here because of Shakespeare” (an obvious reference to the mom-figure “dragging” the kids to see free Shakespeare in the park). This was also a smart crowd who got the more obscure puns enveloped in late 16th century English references.

I haven’t realized this before, but aside from last weekend’s trip to Greenwood, Indiana and Richmond, Virginia, each of the other four plays (along with tomorrow night’s in Iowa City, Iowa) were in university towns or a city with a major branch of a state university. I don’t know how that impacts a Shakespearean Festival, but it sure helps having an audience of higher education in giving donations even if the venue is labeled “free.” I also wonder if it is in those university towns that the arts are held in higher esteem that, say, a sports team (not that the two can’t co-exist). Either way, university or non-university audience, it will be an interesting question to unravel over the rest of this summer: how accessible is Shakespeare to the average audience in the States?

For now, though, I was looking forward to a comfortable place of reference in a bed that had a choice between “firm” or “soft” pillows back in my hotel room. And, I was going to sleep in tomorrow.

I’ve had sort of a trend-setting edge on my father-in-law since I started dating his daughter 20 or so years ago. A pattern emerged from our relationship. I think I was the first person in Indiana to drive a Ford Festiva (a fact that I am quite proud of…that “little, big car” of a thing). Granted, I bought the first model in 1987 when living in California and then drove the silver bullet to college in Northern Indiana the following year. After Lori and I got married, Ken and Doris bought a Ford Festiva and thus began a trend of us being the beta testers and my in-laws realizing the waters were okay and then buying something similar. But it’s not all on-sided. Ken teaches me about stuff around the house: electrical work, assembling various stuff in big boxes and other activities around the house that required things called “tools.” We share a slight disregard for all-things-plumbing but recently Ken announced that he was actually enjoying a particular pipe project and I now am left alone to brood over activities requiring water on the floor and a thing called a “pipe wrench.”

Ken purchased his Garmin GPS about a year ago, partially for his trips but mostly for geocaching with our boys. I thought it an amusing little device but didn’t see much point to having something tell you what you could find on a paper map or on GoogleMaps. So, it was to his slight glee when I asked him what Consumer Reports said about GPS units and which was the better to buy. He was probably grinning when I told him that my Garmin came UPS the other day and that my Garmin had some interesting features. I think he might have even said it then: “So, you’re following me on technological purchases this time?” to which I responded “Yep, I guess I am.”

We both smiled.

My Garmin 265 GPS (I don’t have a name for it yet and if you must really know, I’ve settled on the “Karen” [Australian English] voice) was about the only company I had from Louisville, Kentucky to Richmond, Virginia. I was listening to my first Jodi Picoti book Mercy and I was getting a bit lonely for people. And I realized that this was the first time the summer that I had felt that way and that this was a bit early on in the process to get all “human contact” emotional. I blame much of this on the book, where the husband and wife are going through some marital situations and the dialogue sounded a bit too real for a book. Another part of my feeling this way is that I was on unfamiliar territory, on I-64 traveling through the Eastern part of Kentucky and then through West Virginia. The scenes were incredible, with the Blue Ridge Mountains and just constant reminder that though we think the States are crowded, there are still places that seem untouched by television and the internet and even my cell phone service carrier. That part of the drive, through West Virginia, crowded out humans and emphasized Nature.

I also knew that I was in a different part of the nation, a part that wasn’t so much of the “Northern” values that I was used to in Indiana. A “Comrade Obama” bumper sticker reminded me that this was a part of that dividing line of a time called Civil War. I was apparent to me that many people still cling to state-control instead of federal-control.

I was reminded of this last week on our way to Pennsylvania and the trucker in front of me looked over at a hat-wearing guy donning a t-shirt with a confederate flag. “Amazing how people still can’t let go, you know?” half talking to me. “Yeah” I said. The trucker was black; the hat guy, white. And I’m not sure I want people to “let go” or to tell everyone to just “hold hands and imagine a world of peace and love.” People have backgrounds and have deep-rooted stories, much like the background of Cameron (Cam) McDonald in the book I was listening to. Sure, we like to think we can get over our past, but sometimes that’s easier when we’re the side that won. Cam McDonald isn’t always keen in embracing his position as Lair that he has inherited from his father, but Cam finds it difficult to define himself without his past.

My one stop in West Virginia was in Huntington and the people at the Krogers and the Hardees and the Rite-Aid were all kind to me. They weren’t the stereotypical notion that I had of those from the Appalachian area, but then again, perhaps Huntington was different than other parts of West Virginia. And then again, people are different in the various areas of Indiana, so I shouldn’t be surprised. I got some traveling munchies from Krogers (Vanilla Waffers, Ginger Snaps and a wonderful sale on snack-size Nutter Butters: 10 for $10…I got two), a cheeseburger meal at Hardees (underrated fast food, in my opinion), and deodorant from Rite-Aid (something I’ve forgotten on my last two trips and the last time I forgot, I ended up with Women’s SpeedStick and I smelled powderly-fresh for the rest of that day in St. Louis). After getting gas, I was back on the road and stopped only for a scenic spot picture off the road in Virginia.

Priceline.com came through for me again and I was at the Sheraton West for the night–a great location off the interstate and a wonderful room with comfortable beds. I was pushing time as I wanted to make the opening night toast at 7:15 p.m. and I was a bit concerned about what to wear. Lori will tell you that I’ve come a long ways since meeting me in college (a time when I thought kelly green pants and navy blue collarless shirts were the happening thing). Last night was easy: outside community theater. Tonight was a bit more upscale and it was a bit warm and humid out. I ironed the long sleeve shirt, put on the nicer jeans and had a sports coat in the car. That all changed when I walked outside and was knocked by the wall of humidity. Perhaps I spend too much time inside an air-conditioned classroom, but I said “Ah, no way” and changed back into shorts and my signature orange polo shirt.

I had a verbal volley with the lights on Malvern Avenue. Tonight’s venue was only 5 miles away and I had stopped by the Target on the way for an umbrella thinking that 1.5 miles wouldn’t be any problem (the GPS was saying that I would arrive at my destination at 7:05 p.m.). But that time would get later and later as every block had a stoplight and every green would turn to red before I could speed to the next intersection. The Malvern Avenue lights were winning the volley and I think they were gloating a bit.

I did get to the Agecroft Hall on time, but couldn’t find the place where the toasting was to be happening (and, there was going to be champagne). So I picked up my ticket from the box office and walked around the grounds a bit watching the people of Richmond enjoy this royal-feeling green place. I got a bit self-conscious with the whole “what to wear” thing, but eventually accepted myself as I was, bought a Coke and had a seat in the bleachers. I say bleachers not in the high school football game bleacher sense–these were the nice baseball park ones and after deciding not to block people’s view of the play with my six foot five frame in the aisle, I wandered up toward the back and found something a bit less distracting.

Three women were on stage, singing traditional songs and sewing an English flag…possibly one from the time of Henry V. The seating arrangement reminded me of last week when I saw Complete Works at the Pennsylvania Shakespeare Festival: two sides of few rows and deeper rows for center stage. I was about nine rows back. This all took place-this play about this “Star of England”–against the backdrop of the tudor Agecroft Hall and with the music and the torches and the women on stage, it was easy to be transported to the story of Henry V.

Of all of Shakespeare’s play, this one–Henry V— is the one I know best. I had read it as an undergrad, saw the Lawrence Olivier version and was wowed by its cinematic transition from the Globe into reality going into Act II. One of my favorite papers I wrote was about the relationship of then Prince Hal and his father, King Henry IV, and I also have watched the 1989 Kenneth Branagh version on VHS and DVD several times. I saw a stage version in Stratford, ON a couple years back and thought that that Henry had a delivery that somewhat resembled a cross between Peter O’Toole and William Shatner. It’s not that I didn’t enjoy that performance and it’s World War I setting, it’s just that I wasn’t used to the voices. And I think that’s a problem to work through if you’ve seen or heard the same version of anything–a play or a musical or a song–how can you allow for another interpretation?

Sometimes I’ll tell my colleagues at school that I’m “aiming low.” My meaning is that I try to approach my days in the classroom not with a sunny disposition, but with preparation that everything might just go wrong. So at the end of the day when most of us are decompressing in the hallways, I can say that the day went better than I had planned. I don’t do this all the time, but it is a way to deal with those things which I have little control of (mainly in this case, my students and their behaviors). And perhaps, that’s how I’ve approached this project: not high expectations for live theater, with its countless variables (the weather, a man mowing his lawn, air traffic patterns, an ambling old man getting up from his chair during a performance) let alone the actors and their lines and cues on sound and lighting. It’s quite a lot of coordinating and sometimes things happen and recover, and sometimes, from the audience’s point of view, the play goes on with any distractions.

This audience at this production had high expectations for this play’s performance. Sure there were the friends and family of cast members who are excited to see someone they know be transformed into one of court of Henry V. This crowd also included people who had seen a lot of professional theater and this crowd, most of them, knew Shakespeare and knew the history of Hal and his father. Some in this audience could even translate the French spoken between Katherine and her handmaiden. These people in this audience grew up with Shakespeare and I think most were happy with what happened on stage this night.

I liked how the three women on stage became the Chorus and also a few of female parts in the play. I think the decision to use a toned-down royal wardrobe for King Henry and his court served as a reminder that this was a time closer to a traditional Robin Hood era than a stiff, classical one. For a history play, it’s nice to have some lighter moments. Aside from the comedy between the religious men in Act I and between the commoners of Bardolph, Nym and Pistol, who else can you over-emphasize in this play? That’s right: French royalty. Sure it was a bit prissy (especially the Dauphin) but the text supports an overconfident French that eventually lost the day at the battle of Agincourt. The audience also liked the exaggerated character of all-things-by-the-book-Welsh Fluellen, who helped to transition the play during the “glove” confrontation–from the winning at Agincourt up to the wooing scene (a stretch in the play that the Branagh edited out in his film version).

And now onto King Henry V (Phillip James Brown). At first I wasn’t a fan of his longer speeches, but I came around as I backed down from how I heard the “Upon the King” and “St. Crispin’s Day” soliquoys and found myself refocus on the character of Henry V. I think Brown helped me, more than the last production I saw of this play, “feel” for this once “giddy youth” as he assumes responsibility for his country and his people and for his God. The play is about a transition of power and Brown helped this be a play about all of the factors and people involved–the common men, the loyalists, the French–not just about the King himself. Interesting as I think of it now: though Henry has the most lines, I don’t remember thinking that this production was only a chance for us to see how much or how well Brown could say his lines. Instead, his lines were in the context of the others on stage and for me, that created the illusion that the Chorus reminds us of in the end:

Thus far, with rough and all-unable pen,
Our bending author hath pursu’d the story,
In little room confining mighty men,
Mangling by starts the full course of their glory.

We the audience gave the cast and crew a standing ovation (a practice that I know some purists think we in the States do too much–praise a performance too quickly). And I think it was justified for this opening night of Henry V. For me I learned a bit more about a character and play that I personally enjoy. Also, this was one of those venues that you just don’t get to experience very often and the time with the Richmond Shakespeare Festival on the grounds of Agecroft was an extra treat for the long drive here and back home.

I couldn’t find any real food for dinner on the way back to the hotel, so I settled on Taco Bell and got to sleep around midnight. The Garmin 265 took me a route contrary to GoogleMaps, but the Karen voice lead me by Washington DC, toward Breezewood, PA, back to the Ohio Turnpike and home in the 10 or so hours promised. I finished Mercy and listened to a little more of the Mamma Mia soundtrack until I pulled into downtown Goshen. Relatives were there at our house, from out of town, and I took my stuff inside to see people eating Jimmy Johns.

Because the trip to Indianapolis wouldn’t take me much time, I was fairly relaxed about getting on the road. I had been looking forward to this venue as much as Cymbeline and Love’s Labours Lost would be the only performance that I would see in Indiana. And, along with Cymbeline, this was one of the first plays that I planned on attending. As an added bonus, I would be meeting up with former students now English teachers in the Indy area. Andy and Cristen were both students of mine in English 10 and Beginning Journalism and then Newspaper (I’m making sure I include this information because I didn’t get it right in my post-play review on utterli). Andy and Cristen dated their junior and senior years and really this couple flies in the face of my “don’t date in high school” speech that I give all classes.

They’ve both finished their second year of teaching and as I pulled up to their house off 99th Street, I suppose I wasn’t surprised. See Andy and Cristen are about the best students you could have in class and they are also good human beings (a combination that doesn’t always go together). Andy and Cristen are the people you are happy to say “Yes, I’ve had them in class.” It’s not often that you come across good people in life and it’s pretty gratifying as a teacher knowing that these same people are now in the same profession as you are (not that I had any significant impact on their decision).

Andy greeted me at the door and I got to see the puppy that Cristen had been writing about on her Facebook page. We ate at a local restaurant (Bentley’s I think) and we talked mostly about teaching stuff. I think I got a little self-involved (I really do try and check myself when I’m asked a question about pedagogy) and Andy eventually reminded me that the play started at 7 p.m. (he had checked the time on the website, I had assumed that it would begin at 8 p.m.). Let’s just skip the part about speed limits on I-465 and just say that we were going with the flow of traffic in the left lane (for the most part). We pulled into the park parking lot and made our way down to the amphitheater.

The play had already begun. Bummer.

But we found a place on the right side among the other camping-chaired community people in this park in Greenwood, Indiana. It took me a few moments to get into the story– mostly because of the adrenaline rush of being late–but eventually I caught the line of the story. Whereas the seating in Harrisburg was almost a half-bowl much like smaller theaters, this venue was a bit more flat and the stage and the action felt further away. The actors were miked and it was a good thing for two reasons. First of all, there were many of the older generation and the sound would simply just die out after it would be spoken. And second, a man was mowing the property directly behind the pavilion for the first two acts of the play. It made me smile, really. (Oh, I should also add that the approach path for the local airport was directly above us).  All of which is standard for outdoor theater and most people just accept it as a given. I still find it sort of comical.

If you remember this play at all, Love’s Labours Lost is the one where men decide to make a bet and women sort of play around with them. At one point, disguises go on (veils and switching of accessories for the women, beards and Russian accents for the men) and promises are made and during the reveal, honest dedication and pledges of love are set. Unfortunately, and this provokes a “what were you guys thinking?” scream from me, all four couples decide to suspend their togetherness for twelve months and a day…perhaps as a cooling off period, or perhaps just to make sure that the couples really do mean business. Either way, this production stops the play at this point (they trimmed the play down to 90 minutes for their audience) and we’re left in disbelief.

This was yet another opening night performance (three in a row) and it was incredibly clean for this type of theater. In its in second year, the Greenwood Shakespeare Festival is looking to reach its audience with the magic of Shakespeare’s work and this night they hit it just right. All of the cast are people from the community with various levels of experience (from first performance to over forty years of experience).  I sometimes get a bit uncomfortable when there’s children or teenagers on the stage. Maybe it’s the many AFV (America’s Funniest Videos) shows I’ve logged in on Sunday nights or perhaps it’s the kids programs at schools or churches. But not here, not at this production in Greenwood, Indiana. And so I was able to sit back in my chair and enjoy this story where people misunderstand one another and reach a bit beyond their limits and we don’t exactly get the wedding at the end and live happily ever after.

I was a bit put off at first by the abrupt ending when Berowne says “That’s too long for our play” and it’s over. But really, I kind of liked how this production was packaged and edited for this audience. The weight of suspended love still hangs in the air and still I want to knock their heads together, all four couples, and tell them that they don’t have to wait a year and a day. Go grab some coffee and make the wedding plans. But I didn’t write the story and it’s a Shakespearean comedy and the Greenwood Shakespeare Festival did the play justice.

With the play over and people folding their camping chairs, I said good-bye to Andy and Cristen and went over to shake somebody’s hand in the production. I got to talk to one of the cast members and then to one of the co-founders (Andrea Lott) and we talked about my project and Shakespeare plays and audiences. Andrea mentioned about how she wasn’t sure this audience would be ready for a history play, that this audience perhaps didn’t have the background of Shakespeare to get the references. No matter how sophisticated this Greenwood audience was, this was a wonderful production by a community company that does not receive any outside funds from grants. Which brings me to a little aside: when you see a free production of a Shakespearean play or any of the arts, you should feel it your duty (and obligation) to give at least the price of a ticket to the local cinema movie-plex. If you are concerned about tax-deductions, then most not-for-profit theatre companies have a way for you to give and still get that tax-deduction.

And so I gave my donation in the can at the back table and headed toward my car, then to Starbucks and some gas and then on I-65 to Louisville for some sleep. Fortunately, my Garmin 265 got me there on time.