Lighting Up The Holiday Season

The holiday season officially kicked off in Naperville this weekend with the annual Hometown Holidays Friends of Little Friends Electric Parade. Hundreds of people crammed into the centre of downtown Naperville to watch around 40 floats chug by. In London such an event would be a haven for pickpockets and thieves, but being Naperville, I swear I found a couple of dollar bills in my pocket at the end I didn't know were there....

Naperville's home grown hero Gina Glocksen, a former American Idol finalist, sang the crowd some seasonal songs.

A Traditional Thanksgiving

With Thanksgiving being the most American of holidays, it's not really a festival I feel quite ready to host myself yet. So we were very thankful again this year to be invited to friends to learn how to do it properly. Being invited into someone's home to watch how their family celebrates is wonderful. This kind of event is very personal, and we feel very honoured to be invited into something so private.
This year we went to the home of my composer friend Mrs Hammerstein. I was slightly disappointed that we were weren't all expected to sing around the piano, but then again she has heard my voice!
All the traditional foods were there. A giant turkey, tart cranberry jelly, huge wedges of sweet potatoes, fluffy corn bread, stuffing (an entire dish of its own in this country), green beans and pumpkin pie. We ate in their back porch (extension to us English) which made you feel you were out in the woods. A little fire flickering in the corner. Auntie dozed at the end of the table when no one was looking, but I guess she can be forgiven because she did drive 130 miles to get there.
Perhaps not surprisingly for a composer/musician, Mrs Hammerstein has very theatrical children. In a speech I've only heard in movies, her son announced he was soon off to New York to try to make it on Broadway. He spent most of the evening wondering around the house singing show tunes while we played card games with the rest of the family. Also in attendance were three dogs, because everyone in the family seems to have their own which they bring with them whenever they visit.
Of course being America we ate dinner at 5 p.m. and were home by 9.45 p.m. But how else would you be ready to hit the Black Friday sales at 5 a.m.?

Back to the Future

From Our Theatre Correspondent February 28th, 2009:

Tonight was opening night for this year's Purim Spiel at Congregation Beth Shalom, Naperville. Holy Neuteronomy! is an original musical comedy featuring congregation members as the Third City Players. The show was much anticipated following on the success of last year's show, Passover: The Musical. This critic for one was not disappointed. The show was hilarious, a clever parody of last year's cast struggling to put on a new show. Their show was mixed up version of popular bible stories, mixed up because just before rehearsals began, the producer dropped the script and all the pages got muddled up.
Holy Neuteronomy!, which has 13 brand new songs, featured many familiar names. However, some new faces this year belong to the popular head of the synagogue's nursery school and the writer's dance teacher. Mademoiselle Pavlova was only meant to be the show's choreographer, but ended up with an important singing role when it became obvious at auditions there was no one else to do it. She stopped the show with her beautiful voice, a giant leap of faith for the writer/director who hadn't heard her sing a note before giving her the role.
Similarly Adam B. De Mille found that as well as being elevated from last year's assistant director to co-director, he also had to play the part of a comedian and King David.
For anyone who missed the show, they can catch repeat viewings on local television station NCTV.

So that's how the show will end up. All we have to do now is spend the next three month's getting it there.....

The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year?

It's not even Thanksgiving and once again Chicago radio station WLIT, commonly known as the Lite, is already pumping out nothing but Christmas music. With this in mind, here is my top ten songlist that may be more appropriate at this time of year.

1. I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus, although he looked suspiciously like the pool boy.
2. Deck the halls with boughs of hibiscus.
3. There's no place like home for the holidays, but I'd rather stay on the beach.
4. Rudolph the sunburnt reindeer.
5. Autumn Wonderland.
6. Hark the herald angels sunbathe.
7. I'm dreaming of a white Christmas; anything to escape the heat.
8. In the bleak mid-summer.
9. Rockin' around the maple tree.
10. The strawberries and the ivy.

Deja Vu All Over Again

It's only been eight months since I directed the Purim Spiel at Congregation Beth Shalom, yet tomorrow the whole thing starts up again! On Sunday afternoon we are holding auditions for the show Mrs Hammerstein and I have been working on for the past six months. It's not being officially unveiled until 2 p.m. tomorrow, so to find out more about it you'll have to blog in tomorrow.
If anyone has a number for Robin Williams or Sarah Brightman, please feel free to leave it in a message. We need all the help we can get!

Last Words

This is really for any friends and family back in England, or friends unable to visit during the shiva here in Naperville. It's the eulogy I wrote and read at the shiva last night. It's surprising how very ordinary beginnings can become almost exotic when viewed across the Atlantic.

Frances Decent was born in London, England in 1931. She was a true cockney because she was born within the sound of Bow bells, the bells of St Mary Le Bow church in the city of London. She lived in London her entire life.
She was the eldest of two sisters, and perhaps unusually for that time she was mechanically minded. She was the first girl in the family to learn how to drive.
Frances met her husband Bernie when she was 20 years old. She was introduced to him by her sister at a Remembrance Day Parade in London. Like her father and brother in law, he was a licensed black taxi cab driver.
Frances and Bernie had three children, Lorraine, Ross and Craig. You might not believe this, but as a middle child, Ross is actually the quiet one of the family. They also had eight grandchildren together and Frances later had four great grandchildren. The Decents are a fiercely tight knit family, who I like to fondly, and sometimes not so fondly, refer to as the Mafia. Fortunately it has only taken a mere 27 years for me to finally be accepted. (I think).
Unlike many women of her generation, once her children were at school, Frances returned to work. By the time she retired she was the office manager of a building society, which is the British equivalent of a savings and loan company, not a construction company. Like most Jewish mothers, Frances was renowned for her culinary skills, but alas not in a good way. We retain especially fond memories of her signature dish, brown stew, made with the British equivalent of two bottles of steak sauce. In 1997 the family was devastated by Bernie’s sudden death. A gregarious, fun loving man, his passing left a huge gap. Soon afterwards Frances became ill and was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s Disease when she was 73 years old. Frances spent the last two years of her life in a Masonic residential care home in Hertfordshire. Bernie had been master of his lodge and both sons and a nephew were master masons. Such was the strength of family Frances instilled, her children, grandchildren and sister continued to visit her long after she had forgotten who they were. When we returned to London last Thursday, Ross joined them in a round the clock bedside vigil. Afterwards staff commented that they had rarely seen such devotion from an entire family at such a time. On Tuesday we had to head straight for the airport from the cemetery, leaving our family to grieve without us.
The fact that we have received such wonderful messages from so many people here in our new home has been an inspiration to us. Although we obviously miss our family now more than ever, we are richly blessed to have found a new family here in Naperville. May her memory be a blessing.

Down Memory Lane

Thought I'd just share a couple of photos. Here are Grumpy's parents on their wedding day.
And here is Frances as a little girl with her parents, Ann and Morrie. Morrie was a London taxi driver, and the vehicle is an old British black taxi cab.

Live Long and Prosper

We've obviously noticed quite a few differences between the American culture and the British culture since moving to America. Americans speak differently, they drive on the wrong side of the road, (paid the ticket just now, by the way) they actually want to be with their families, that kind of thing.
There's probably even more of difference in the way we practise Judiasm. Services include more English than Hebrew, men and women sit together and musical instruments are sometimes used.
Yesterday we found some interesting differences in the way we mourn. We left our family in England this week to sit shiva for Grumpy's mum. That means her children and sister have to sit on low hard chairs for up to a week receiving visitors wishing to pay their respects. Every evening prayers are led by a rabbi or representative from a mourner's synagogue. Visitors usually bring food for the mourners, and although there is always a table groaning with cakes and biscuits (what would you expect, we're Jews?) we were brought up to believe that you shouldn't eat in a house of shiva because food is only for the mourners.
At the funeral, the mourners' clothes are ripped to signify their grief, they are not meant to wash or shave while sitting shiva and mirrors are covered so a) they cannot see themselves in their grief and b) they shouldn't see the spirit of deceased reflected.
At the end of the prayers when people leave, it is traditional to shake hands and say to the bereaved "I wish you a long life."
Although some of the rituals are the same, many are not. For a start, although the rabbi was there, Grumpy had to lead the service himself. It wasn't that he couldn't do it, just unfortunate he inherited his mother's singing voice, or would have if she had had one.
Certainly around here no one usually uses a shiva chair. Grumpy got some quizzical looks as people arrived when they saw him trying to fit on a tiny chair from the synagogue nursery. Everyone brought food, but only a little was eaten, no doubt because they were confused as to whether they should eat it or not. Apparently in the U.S they are told that they must eat in a house of shiva as a sign that life goes on and food is essential to that.
It was the "long life" thing that really got them. I had people say it to me instead of Grumpy, while others told him to "live long and prosper", which is only appropriate if the mourner is a Trekkie, I'm afraid.
We had about 35 visitors yesterday, with more expected tonight. Very touching considering that we are still comparatively new to this country and were unable to give very much notice.

Sad, But Glad To Be Back

We arrived back in Naperville last night, after having to leave for the airport directly from the cemetry. I'll get back to blogging in the next day or two. Thanks for checking in.

Interlude

Sorry for the break in transmission. On Thursday we unexpectantly returned to England because Ross's mother is in the final stages of Alzheimer's and not expected to live for very much longer. We always knew this kind of nightmare would one day be the other side of the coin in living our American dream. Fortunately we have been able to return in time for Ross to say goodbye. Many thanks for the warm wishes we have received from friends around the world at this time.

Driven To It

Yesterday I sent a friend in England a birthday card. The card cost me $2.99. The stamp was 94c, yet the entire project cost me just under $80. I can only hope she appreciates it!
I have no one to blame but myself and possibly the criminals of Naperville. Criminals? In Naperville? Surely not! Of course not, but because there aren't any, it frees the local police up to do other things like hand out $75 citations for teeny driving misdemeanours.
Technically, I'm sure the police wouldn't call blocking the road while attempting to turn left from the wrong lane in busy traffic a "teeny" misdemeanour. But coming from somewhere like London, I made far worse mistakes on a daily basis and was only stopped once in more than 30 years for driving with my seat belt under my arm instead of across my throat. I can see driving in the U.S is going to be more difficult than I thought. I'm already really careful not to drive more than 25 mph in residential roads, even though sometimes I have to get out and push the car to make myself go so slowly. Now I'll actually have to ensure I'm in the right lane before turning. Honestly! All I can say is it's lucky I don't drive more than a radius of ten miles of my house if this is what it's like.

This posting is dedicated to Grumpy's colleagues, who tell me I only write about the bad things he does and nothing about me. I don't think that's true at all. It's just he's usually a much richer source of material!

Aquari-fun

Yesterday we checked out the Shedd Aquarium in Chicago. This is what we discovered.

" Sorry buddy, your escape plan's been rumbled. It's back in the tank for you!"
The tank guard looked a little crabby.

The day of the iguana

This nasty shark tried to cut into the line.

"You lookin' at me kid?"

"Who's a pretty boy then?" (Or is it girl?)

Remembering, Remembering...

Remember remember the fifth of November,

Gunpowder, treason and plot.

I see no reason why gunpowder, treason

Should ever be forgot...

So says the old English rhyme. Today in England it's Guy Fawkes Day, when we remember the successful overthrowing of the Gunpowder Plot.

On the 5th November 1605 Guy Fawkes was caught in the cellars of the Houses of Parliament with several dozen barrels of gunpowder. He was subsequently tried as a traitor with his co-conspirators for plotting against the government. He was tried by Judge Popham who came to London specifically for the trial from his country manor Littlecote House in Hungerford, Gloucestershire. (Amazing what you can find out on the Internet). Fawkes was sentenced to death and was hung, drawn and quartered,quartered which reflected the serious nature of the crime of treason.

The event is celebrated with bonfire night, when traditionally we enjoy firework parties. Nowadays people tend to go to organised displays, but we usually held our own. This would involve standing outside in the freezing cold with only a jacket potato to keep us warm (for American readers that's baked potatoes. We didn't actually wear them).

Grumpy would be in charge of lighting the fireworks at the end of the garden while the rest of us clung to the back of the house hoping he wouldn't go up in flames.

The children would be given sparklers to hold, which they would wave in the air making neon like patterns before they burned out and were thrown into a bucket of water. (The sparklers, not the children, although some years I wish we could have).

We lit a bonfire onto which a guy was thrown to burn. A guy is an effigy of Fawkes, traditionally made by stuffing newspaper into old clothes with a mask on the top. When I was a child, we would wheel this somewhat forlorn figure up and down the street asking for a "penny for the guy" to pay for the fireworks. These days I understand all major credit cards are accepted.

The Only Way Is Up

The election campaign has been going on ever since we arrived in the United States last March. I can still remember Buffy telling me the name of the Democratic candidate because I kept getting his name the wrong way round.
There will be millions of words written around the world tomorrow about the country's first black president. I can hear the journalists' keyboards clicking away already. My thoughts are not really worthy of inclusion in such a historic event.
But on a personal note, not a day goes by when I don't think "wow, I'm living in America." So to actually be living a few miles away from the home of the next president; to be living here at such a remarkable time when Chicago will be for a short while, at least, the centre of the world, is very humbling. I can only hope the economy now begins to improve and the country pulls together as everyone says they will. After all, I'm not the only one living the American dream.

Will The Best Man Win?

In England TV stations at least try to be unbiased, even if they don't always succeed. During the general election, if one candidate for prime minister came from London, for example, the local newsreaders would barely mention it. There the political party is the important thing.
Not so in Chicago. Watching the local NBC5 news this evening, you would think they were watching the Miss World contest with fingers crossed that the American contestant would win.
Obviously it is exciting for them that the next President of the United States could come from Chicago. But as they show scenes of Grant Park filling up with Obama supporters the atmosphere in the studio is more like New Year's Eve than election night.
To be honest, I'm surprised anyone is able to quote any policies any more. Recent TV advertising has been so negative that it appears all candidates are crooks desperate to raise taxes. On second thoughts...

Up the Poll

Much as I love my role as observer here in the U.S. I do feel a little disgruntled today because I cannot get involved in today's election. Not even being a second class citizen means I have no vote, but it didn't stop me visiting what would be my local polling place (or station as we call them in England).

Most people are very keen to tell you their political leanings here, and signs like this are littering front lawns at the moment. Interestingly I found far more Republican signs that Democrat in my neighbourhood, but perhaps that's not surprising when you live in a middle class bubble like Naperville. Of course it could be that the Democrats have better things to do with their time than stick signs in their lawns.

The voting system is so complex you need to be a member of Mensa to fully understand it. As well as voting for the president today, various congress and local government posts are up for grabs.

Finally a sign even I could understand. For those not lucky enough to vote at a country club like the good folk of Cress Creek, other sites include local schools and police stations. Schools remain open while voters come and go, unlike in England where it is a welcome excuse for a day off.

I was surprised not to see long lines outside as people waited to vote. Knowing Naperville, it is probably against the law, so I imagine everyone was inside relaxing on leather sofas sipping champagne as they waited.

Another difference is the voting system itself, which seems to be done on computer or with punch cards depending on where you live. This would be far too complicated for the average British voter, so we are simply given a small piece of paper and a tiny pencil which voters use to put a cross by the name of their chosen candidate, assuming they have ever heard of them. This works well because if you cannot decide, you can always take it with you to Ikea.

Dancing On

Life is slowly returning to normal at the Hotel Decent after having waved goodbye to our latest guests yesterday afternoon. We nipped any sadness in the bud by doing what we normally do at such times - partying the night away. While Grumpy did the airport run, I went off to the hair salon to be Americanised. My bouffant curls would have put Sarah Palin to shame.
It was then off to a wonderful dinner dance at the synagogue. I'm pleased to report that months of dancing lessons really paid off. The good news is we can now foxtrot, waltz, hustle and rumba. The bad news is we can't remember which is which, so every dance we do has an element of them all mixed together.
Speaking of Sarah Palin, isn't there some kind of election going on this week? And you thought Halloween was scary.

Halloween High Jinks

The boys' first American Halloween went well. Griselda was out handing out treats to the local kids. In a brave move, she decided to go for a trick instead of a treat. The children were horrified. They had absolutely no idea what to do! Afterwards we went to a costumed dance where our gummi worm pumpkin won a prize for best snack. (That's what happens when your guests are hospitality graduates!)

Pirate Radio accepts a little help from Superneighbor.

Pirate Video, Pirate Radio and Pontius Pirate terrified the neighbourhood as the town's oldest trick or treaters. They sang sea shanties in return for a pillowcase full of candy - and beers.