Have you seen this tree?

     

Somebody stole my Christmas decorations!
        I know that sounds like a poor imitation of a great Dr. Seuss classic, but evidently the Grinch is alive and well in the Florida Keys.
        The land of scraggly pine, leafy palms and plentiful poisonwood seems an unlikely setting for a holiday hooligan. I doubt the The Keys have ever seen snow. Even in the last ice age. That's what makes it so attractive to Michigan snowbirds. This is our third winter in The Keys, and our second year renting the same house. Since we knew we were returning, and the owner only rents to a limited number of friends and family, we decided to leave some bulky items -- a kayak and a  bait freezer -- as well as a small box of Christmas decorations. The kayak and freezer were waiting for us, but the Christmas decorations disappeared.
         This wasn't a box of rare German glass ornaments or crystal. Just a plaid tablecloth, a fake flower centerpiece, a lighted table decoration and a small wooden tree  I miss that tree. It was only a foot tall, but I purchased it at a craft fair 25 years ago when my son was just a little kid. It's a puzzle tree, made of carved pieces that fit together in several different tree-shape configurations.It was a conversation piece at many holiday celebrations. And now it's gone.
         Losing the Christmas decorations won't spoil my holiday. I learned the lesson of the Dr. Seuss story. Christmas isn't about stuff; it's about friends, family and faith. If someone out there is so deprived (depraved?) that they need my decorations to be happy, then I donate them gladly. I have my health, my guy and faith in God. And thanks to The Keys, I'll probably be enjoying beautiful weather on Christmas, too.
          So, enjoy my decorations, Mr. Grinch.
        

Lucky 13

I know Friday the 13th is supposed to be bad luck, but  this one has been pretty fantastic so far. We're enroute to our winter home in the Florida Keys. We left Wednesday morning in a go-back-to-bed blizzard. But Steve was determined to get on the road. Barely a half hour east of Grand Rapids the blizzard waned. We still had a little snow off and on all though Ohio and into Kentucky. When we got up Thursday morning it was a bone chilling 6 degrees. It was only a little better when we awoke this morning in Macon, Ga. A whopping 22. But as the day progressed, the sun came out and the frost disappeared. We visited with a friend in Jacksonville, Fla,where shirt sleeves were adequate. Steve changed into shorts and sandals for a tour trolley in St. Augustine. It feels so good to be warm again.

I am hopeful we've seen the last of frost, at least until April Fools when we return to Michigan!

And hopefully this Friday the 13th will be a lucky inspiration for me to finish the final chapters of Full Moon Friday, my next book in the Jordan Daily News series. It is set on a Friday the 13th that coincides with the full moon. I plan to release the book next June when the full moon will once again coincide with Friday the 13th.

Natalie times four

       

Excellent. Extraordinarily entertaining evening.
        I just can't say enough good things about the Natalie MacMaster/Donnell Leahy show I saw last night at the City Opera House in Traverse City.

         The very pregnant MacMaster -- baby #6 is due in April -- presented her usual high energy, fast fiddlin' of Cape Breton, Nova Scotia, complete with interludes of her high stepping jigs and her amazing knee spins. She was joined by her husband of 11 years, Donnell Leahy, whose fiddling style is more classical, with showy, broad strokes and long, lingering notes. Then for a real treat, three of their children came out and played their little violins and danced some pretty fancy steps. The oldest daughter is following the MacMaster tradition, and will be giving her mother competition before long.
          Add outstanding piano accompaniment and guitar picking by the members of their band, and it was a footstompin' fanfare of music as good or better than any I have ever seen. All this in the beautiful, intimate setting of the City Opera House. Extraordinary evening. 

50 Shades of Gray

OK. Maybe 50 is an exaggeration. But you can expect to see lots of shades of gray in the costumes and sets of Grand Rapids Civic Theatre's upcoming production "The Giver," which opens Friday, Oct. 18. Based on Lois Lowry's Newberry Award-winning book, "The Giver" is about a utopian world without pain or fear (and probably no wrangling Congress to shut down the government.) But there's also no real joy ...and no realization of color. It's kind of like an old black and white movie, infinite shades of gray, long before that title took on such a sexy implication.

Don't expect Civic's production to be as shocking as "Fifty Shades of Gray," but expect a story with surprising depth about the choices one must make when facing adulthood. Director Pamela Steers recommends the show for middle school and older. She is pictured above with Jim Chervenka in the title role and Jake T. Goldberg, who portrays Jonas, the young man chosen to learn The Giver's secrets.

Can't stop singing those songs

   

I never claimed to be a singer, but when I'm alone in my own home -- watch out. Doing the housework Wednesday it was an off-key "Sherry, Sherry baby, Sherry." Loading the car in the garage Thursday  it was "Oh, pretty baby! Now that I've found you stay. Oh, Pretty Baby, Forgive me when I say..." at the top of my lungs. And petting my  cat, a quiet "As long as love can survive, I thank God I'm alive..."
    It's all because of "Jersey Boys." I saw the show Tuesday at DeVos Performance Hall and it won't let me go. I had seen it once before in Chicago, but if anything this touring show was even better. More electric.
     I sang a couple bars of  "Big Girls Don't Cry" and "Walk Like a Man" for my mom on Skype and it was good enough that she quickly remembered the songs of The Four Seasons. "Oh, yeah, I know those songs," she said.
     Last night I woke up at 3 a.m. and all I could think of was "Late December back in '63, what a special time for me, as I remember, what a night."
     If you didn't catch this show, the good news is you have five more chances this weekend: tonight and double performances both Saturday and Sunday. But be warned, the music will follow you home.

Good multiplied

    

When I was raising my son in Toledo, one of my friends was Jane, a young mother from Kentucky. I remember she used to send her daughters outside to play with a kiss on the top of the head and the words "Be good." (You have to imagine a southern drawl for the full effect)
       I was reminded of Jane today as I left the day-long Ted -X Macatawa meeting in Holland. "Do good" people said to each other instead of  "goodbye." 
      The day had been overflowing with "good" ideas. Improvements in our education system, a company run by retired executives aimed at providing clean water for third world countries, tips for the perfectly "imperfect", breaking out from the 'hood, creating products intended for reuse instead of waste, telling our stories, helping injured veterans be creative.
      It's hard to decide what "good" to do first. Little things like taking my morning tea on the deck and watching the sunrise instead of at my desk reading emails. Finding that dulcimer I put away and giving it another try. Calling an old friend to see how I can help. I was inspired with several major project ideas that will take longer to implement, but today, listening to all that enthusiasm, my ideas sounded doable. 
       In the impersonal tech world of Facebook and Twitter, it's inspiring to see people coming together simply to hear people talk about ideas. And then to talk to other people about what they heard. Talk. Talk about good. Better. Now. We can.Good.
      
      

Crazy good

I've never been one for horror movies. I don't like to be scared silly. And if I anticipate somebody's about to get hurt in the movie I'm watching, I close my eyes.

But I couldn't take my eyes off "Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street," the latest offering at Circle Theatre. It's a horrifying story, yet there's an unspoken pact somehow between actors and audience that there will be no blood. The murders will be hinted, even laughed about, but never actually seen.

Instead we see the eyes. The fear. The hate. The greed and plotting. The helpless vulnerability. And you just can't turn away from it. It's mesmerizing. Oh, my skin is still crawling.

See it ... if you dare.