We had a lovely evening at the Taproot Theatre and I received a number of requests for a list of the readings performed by our stellar cast. Here they are in order:
‘Christmas in Qatar’ by Calvin Trillin (read by Paul Dorpat)
‘You Better Not Cry’ (an excerpt) by Augusten Burroughs (Jean Sherrard)
‘Christmas Every Day’ by William Dean Howells (Kurt Beattie)
‘A Christmas Spectacle’ by Robert Benchley (Kurt)
‘The Three Wise Guys’ by Sandra Cisneros (Bill Ontiveros)
‘Christmas Cracker’ by Jeanette Winterson (Marianne Owen)
Our wonderful house band, Pineola, performed intro and interim music. I’ll update their set list when I can get it.
There’s only one more chance to catch this program: next Saturday at the Rainier Arts Center in Columbia City. But this show’s only available to Town Hall members. What a fine time to show your support and join Town Hall – then join us for the party on Saturday!
Greetings, all! FYI, this evening’s performance will not be held at the usual Town Hall location, which is closed for remodel and reconstruction! All Town Hall events are now sprinkled throughout the city in many different venues. Ours is at Greenwood’s Taproot Theatre. For direction and info on parking, please click here.
Thanks for the suggestion to clarify this, Clay Eals!
Once more, into the merry breach, my friends! Join me and Paul, Kurt Beattie, Marianne Owen, Bill Ontiveros and Pineola for our annual evening of roguish cheer, short stories, music and delight. Although Town Hall is closed for reconstruction, the show must go on! We’ll be in full celebration mode at the Taproot Theatre, tomorrow at 6PM.
So Karen, our son Noel, and I joined the hordes and drove to a rest stop just north of Lime, Oregon, arriving about 4:30 Monday morning. And any lingering doubts we had about the advisability of the enterprise were put aside after the event. Following are photos documenting our conversion.
Afterwards, we had a picnic and then decided to drive south a few miles to visit Lime, where Paul Dorpat told us an abandoned cement factory still loomed. We wandered an apocalyptic moonscape of graffiti, art, and lost children – a perfect aftermath comprising melancholy reflection and an exquisite sense of mortality.
Perhaps you came for the Now & Then, which, never fear, is just below. But a couple of days ago, I came across a moth the size of a mouse, in its final hours, resting in a doorway. What a gift of watchful shadow and light.