Something Not Rotten At All!

If you are a regular reader, you know I love Broadway musicals. For me, there is nothing like escaping from reality for three hours while a talented group of musicians and actors transports you to another world where people burst into spontaneous song and dance.

Some friends and I have been season ticket holders for the Broadway Series at a local theater for several years. We have seen great performances without needing to take the three hour train ride to New York City. Each year, we speculate about what shows might be featured in the coming season. As soon as we heard about Something Rotten! we put it on our list of “must sees” and hoped the tour would stop here. So we were all excited last year when it was announced that Something Rotten! would be part of this year’s offerings. I had hoped to see the show in New York City, but knew that wasn’t going to be possible once I broke my leg last year and travel became more difficult.

Because things have been very busy these past two months, and since I spent most of December withdrawn from the world due to my father’s death, I missed much of the publicity about the show. I also did not take any time to research the cast or read reviews, something I normally do. I knew the show would be funny, based on this sneak peek from the 2015 Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. That was all I really needed to know.

Since I did not pay attention to any of the pre-show press, I was surprised when I entered the theater and saw Adam Pascal’s name on the cast list. To say I have had a mild infatuation with Adam for more than twenty years is like saying some cats like catnip. Not sure who Adam Pascal is? Maybe you’ve heard of a little musical from the mid-1990’s called Rent? You know, the one with the the song upon which I based Thursday’s blog post? Yeah – that show! Adam was the original Roger. He’s since gone on to star in other shows, such as Aida, Memphis and Disaster!

Let me put aside my obsession feelings toward Adam and offer my opinion on the show. It was FUNNY! You don’t have to be a Broadway musical geek to enjoy the show. But if you are? You’ll love it! I tried to count the many musical and lyrical references to other musicals and gave up after thirteen. Cats, Evita, The Fantasticks, Phantom of the Opera, Chicago, Sweeny Todd, Rent, South Pacific, Annie – the list goes on and on. I know I missed things because I was laughing, which only makes me want to see it again. If the show is coming to your city, I recommend you go. Three hours of fun and laughter, song and dance, plus a hot man who can sing who struts around with his shirt open for part of the show! Who can’t use that right now?!

While I loved the show, the highlight of my day happened after the final curtain. Knowing we had time to wait before the bus home, I told my friends I was going to try to get to the stage door for an autograph. Believe it or not I have only waited at the stage door after a show once before – when my friend Lauren’s brother Matt Meigs was in town with the tour of Mary Poppins. (Matt is currently performing in Holiday Inn and you should absolutely go and see the show if you are in New York!)

I held back as the crowds cleared the lobby outside the stage door, scoping my best course of action. After a few minutes, it became clear who was still trying to get out of the theater and who was waiting for autographs. I stealthily rolled around the crowd, doing my best to avoid running over toes while gradually inching my way between people until I was at the front, to the right of the stage door. I was just in time because once I got into prime position, the door opened and the first cast member walked out.

I waited patiently, preserving my space by occasionally moving my feet from side to side so nobody stepped in front of me. Then Adam came out and was greeted with loud acclaim. I was the first person he saw before people started shoving Playbills in his face. He autographed Playbills for everyone, graciously accepting their compliments and posing for photos as he turned towards me. When it was my turn, I simply smiled and handed over my Playbill as he leaned over and said, “Let me take care of this young lady.” Swoon!

He continued to stand next to me, signing Playbills and taking photos, thanking everyone for coming. I told him there was no way I could move out of his way because of the crowd.  “Oh, no, don’t move. You’re helping to give me space!”

Who said a wheelchair wasn’t useful?! I totally played the disabled card to get to the door, and it worked! When he was done, I moved out of the center of the crowd, which gave him a path so he could get to other people. Free from the crush, I finally brought out my phone and asked for a photo – which is how this came to be.

Selfie of a white man with blond hair and goatee next to a white woman with glasses and brown hair. The pair are smiling and are back-lit by hallway fluorescent lights.

Sure, the lighting is not perfect. But I got a photo! This theater geek is a happy girl indeed.

Sometimes, when we meet the people we admire, we are disappointed because they don’t behave the way we think they will. Or, perhaps they are rushed for time or having a bad day and the encounter is not what we wished for. Yesterday, I had the best celebrity encounter I could have imagined. Adam was kind, generous, gracious and appeared genuinely appreciative of the fans who waited to meet him.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m about to go listen to the Something Rotten! soundtrack yet again to see if I can catch more of those musical references. Feel free to stay and drool over that smile for as long as you like!

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How Do You Measure a Year?

My world changed a year ago on January 13, 2016. That was the day one of my former Personal Assistants (PAs) did not follow my instructions, resulting in her dropping me to the floor during a transfer and fracturing my left femur.

I’ve written many posts about my progress this past year. I explained how it all happened in this post, then provided an update from the rehabilitation hospital in this post. I blogged about my transition home, and the challenges I faced as I struggled to prioritize my needs as I continued to heal.

There have been many gains this year. After months of therapy, I was able to successfully transfer into my driver seat in my van in April. Granted, performing that transfer requires such a high amount of my limited energy so I only drive when absolutely necessary. And I still can’t independently transfer back into my wheelchair when I arrive at my destination, which means I must have someone meet me so I can get out of my van.

That’s not entirely accurate. I CAN transfer out of my driver seat if I am parked on an uphill incline. Gravity still works, and when parked uphill, it gives me a boost when I slide back to my wheelchair. However, if I’m parked on an uphill incline, I can’t get back into my driver seat so I can drive back home. Stupid gravity – who said it was a good thing?!

I am still pursuing a new vehicle which will be modified with a high tech driving system. This will allow me to drive while seated in my wheelchair. The evaluation process is stalled for the moment, thanks to matters that deserve and will get their own blog post. But, eventually I will be fully independent for driving again and it WILL happen in 2017.

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes. Anyone who is a fan of the musical Rent, written by Jonathan Larson, knows a year contains 525,600 minutes. But as the opening song in the show tells us, time is just one way to measure a year.

I can measure the past year in the number of hospital admissions (2), the number of new internal permanent screws in my leg (8), the number of new PAs I’ve hired (4), the number of months absent from work (4) and the number of address changes (1). I can also measure the number of new great nieces and nephews born (2), the number of visits with my best friend (5), the number of blog posts (72) or the number of funerals (thankfully, only 1).

But when I think about this past year, the one word that keeps repeating itself in my head is the one thing Jonathan Larson encourages us to measure most – love. This year, I have been blessed to be the recipient of so much love from friends, family, and readers. When I first started writing about my fracture and rehab, I received cards and letters from around the world. I had at least five visitors every day for the month I was hospitalized. People called, sent Facebook messages and Skyped when I was unable to leave my house.

Although I need assistance every day in order to survive, I am bad at asking for it. I would rather do just about anything else than ask someone to help me when a PA has called in sick or has quit. However, this year I had to repeatedly ask the people in my support network for their assistance and you know what happened? Almost 100% of the time they said yes! Whenever I asked for help, I received it. If that isn’t love, I don’t know what is.

So while 2016 was full of more challenges than I’ve had to face in quite some time, it was also full of love. I’d rather measure the love.

I searched for a good video of this song and was overwhelmed at how many hits came up. Then, I stumbled on this one with ASL interpretation and knew this would be the one to share.

Day 365

Tomorrow, September 7, will mark the one year anniversary of DeeScribes. Today is the 365th day of my renewed writing adventure. Aside from January 24 when I spent the day having an adventure with my friend Tara, I have written at least 500 words per day for a complete year. Knowing this milestone was approaching, I have been reflecting on the past twelve months and all I have learned since I started sharing my writing dreams on a public platform.

Thanks to the Broadway musical Rent, I know a year consists of five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes. We mark the passage of those minutes in many ways. Twelve months, four seasons, one birthday – all ways to mark time.

You can measure a year in numbers. Thanks to the WordPress statisticians, I know the past year for DeeScribes has consisted of 173 posts, 4,342 visitors and 223 followers. Not bad for someone who was scared to publicly admit her writing dreams prior to last September.

But while I kept an eye on the numbers from time to time, I have never been too concerned about them. To me they are not an indicator of success. Instead, I have measured success in the number of authentic interactions I have had with fellow bloggers and my readers.

I am thrilled to have a small audience of regular followers. Their comments provide encouragement and make me consider different viewpoints daily. I am appreciative of the meaningful interactions with so many of you, my faithful readers. You have supported me when I tried new challenges or techniques. You have welcomed me into your lives and I am richer for the experience of our virtual interactions.

Writing a blog has given me a new network of peers. I traveled internationally twice during the past year and both times I had the privilege of meeting fellow bloggers I now consider friends. Each day I learn something new from the online community at My 500 Words. I have realized I am not alone in my fears related to sharing my work and discovered new ways to be productive during stressful times. I am encouraging other writers who are struggling to find their voices, celebrating their accomplishments as they respond in kind to mine.

I am grateful for the connections I have made with other bloggers in the disability community. Each one of them uses their platform to advocate for change, forcing me to explore my own feelings towards issues which matter to me on a personal level. I am honored to have new relationships with writers who produce work I had previously read. I am still blown away by events which happened in December when a mutual online friend helped me connect with the amazing Stella Young just three days before her unexpected death.

Whether you were here from the beginning or have just joined me on my writing journey, I am grateful you chose to spend some of your time at DeeScribes. I am excited to discover what the next year will bring. I hope you will stick around as I continue to pursue my writing dreams. I AM a writer – and I’m not afraid to say it any longer.

THANK YOU for reading!