Three Tall Women - Lyric Stage Company reaches new heights

Albee's 1991 Pulitzer Prize-winning play, directed by the Lyric's Spiro Veloudos, is simply quite stunning.

The biographically story of Albee's estranged, adoptive mother is told in snarling, senile, humorous, and at times, pathetic terms by the three actors who dominate the stage with performances that are astounding in their complexity and delivery.

Anne Scurria as the 92-year old version, dying from a compendium of ailments, gives a performance of acid vindictiveness and tragic decline that should be rewarded with a best actress award or two at year end. Please shoot me if I ever end up like this woman.

Paula Plum plays the 52-year old version of the same woman, who believes that now is the best time of her life, knowing what she knows and at ease with herself and the path she has chosen. Plum is at once sprightly and humorous and oozes a rich sensuality that the much younger version of herself comes nowhere near. Were it not for the presence and performance of Scurria, Plum may well have stolen the show.

Working hard not to be out done by the classy performance of two of Boston's best acting talents, Liz Hayes as the 26-year-old version plays her role admirably, imparting her character with a solid mix of naivety and hope, convinced that she can never become the two women with whom she shares the stage.

The fact that all three are on stage at the same time, convincingly playing the same person but at different stages in their life and discussing with each other what has become of them and why, is an amazing piece of writing from Albee.

The play runs until April 26 and for me this performance alone, compressed into the Lyric Stage Company's intimate setting, is worth the price of the season ticket for the all the other plays put together.

Lincoln Minute Men Muster

It's not every day that I get to interview figures from the eighteenth century and write about it from my perspective for publication.

Captain William Smith, woken at 2 a.m by Mary Hartwell, herself roused by Dr. Prescott after the capture of Paul Revere rides into the center of Lincoln to muster the militia.

The story as printed in the Lincoln Journal.

It is the time of year, with winter exhausted and taxes filed, when colonial militiamen recreating events from 1775, chase weary and outnumbered British soldiers back to Boston
Read more...

The real event - music and action

OK, here's the real event, I'm just sorry I did not capture the sound - perhaps you'll join us next year and hear it first hand?

Space invader - living in a world of your own

Sometimes words fail me, which for a writer is a wee problem. It happened the other day at a fife and drum concert in Lincoln, ostensibly a celebratory occasion in Pierce Park when marching bands play music from the revolutionary days.

Now you have to imagine a very large an empty field, with people scattered about and a smaller roped off arena where the bands play. Some people bring low-slung chairs, others, like us, spread out on blankets.

We left a respectable gap between the arena rope and our blanket, into which wandered a party of four, two women, one man and a younger girl. One of the women carried a garish blue and green umbrella that she must have got for free judging by the logos adorning its sides. It wasn't raining, nor did it appear likely. No this monstrosity was a sunshade (in April) and shielded the woman, and could have kept the suns warming rays of everyone in the party. Rays that would have meant she might have been able to remove the fleece blanket-like jacket she wore.

As she made herself comfortable a few feet in front of me I asked politely, or so I thought, if she intended to use the sunshade once the bands started to play.

"Aren't you high enough to see over it?" she asked without making eye contact, although that would have been difficult through her sunglasses.

"Well no, not really and I think it's a bit rude," I said.

What I wanted to say was, "Is this how your mother taught you? I this any example you set your daughter, to push in front, to have no regard for anyone else, to carry such an obnoxious glaring piece of Chinese produced crap and place it right in front of me," but she had already turned away, obscured behind the umbrella.

It occurred to me that perhaps the woman was unwell, perhaps a cancer survivor or undergoing treatment. I demurred and moved away, but it seemed that every angle, every photograph featured the umbrella. I have no way of knowing if she was ill or just ill mannered, but it added a sour note to an otherwise excellent musical event.

Eventful Patriots Day

Compared to last years rain soaked weekend this one was sublimely tropical. Somethings don't change though. like the bright colors, loud noises, enthusiasm of re-enactors and beer and chilli afterwards.

For those that couldn't make it, enjoy the show.

Spuds were never this heavy

When I were a lad I'd go to the farm with my dad and pick up a 56lb bag of spuds and waddle with it to boot of his old Austin A40. It were a right struggle and no mistake.
OK let's drop the Hovis bread accent. But that was and still is a lot of weight to carry, even for a short distance.

On Saturday I began my Alaska hike conditioning and since I figure I need to carry somewhere north of 5olbs, what better way to practice than to load up my backpack with 56lbs and start walking for a 7 mile round trip to Merriam's Corner along the Battle Road.
Thankfully an early Patriots Day event started shortly after my arrival at the historic site and the hour long ceremony provided adequate recovery time before the walk back.
Total walking time racked up - a measly two hours with an elevation gain and loss of a derisory 110 feet.
To put this in perspective, the 12-day Alaska hike has a gain of 11,956 feet and a loss of 13,512 feet - so basically it's a few thousand feet downhill, right?

Did I ache after lugging that load? Surprisingly only in my hip joints. But it did make me realize how important it will be to get in some 5-day (or longer) hikes with a full load well before this summer's big trip.

'Last Post' for winter hiking

It's over, done with, crampons sharpened and oiled, ice ax hung tenderly in the back hallway and boots dried and, of necessity, airing out as I write.

It was a great weekend in New England, especially in New Hampshire, where we took the opportunity to get in one last winter hike for the season - before the warmer weather turns the remaining snow to slush.
Mount Washington, home to wind speeds of up to 231mph - the highest recorded anywhere on earth – beckoned.
The Tuckerman Ravine and Lion’s Head trail rises 4256 feet to 6288 feet over a distance of 5 miles, with the last 1200 feet, a rocky, icy climb, in a little over 1 mile.
Out and back, carrying about 25lbs of winter gear and wearing 4.5lbs of mountaineering boots and crampons on each foot, took a little over 8 hours. Once again, the Lion’s Head winter route provided plenty of technical challenge, overcome by toe-pointing and a deftly swung ice ax.
Wind speeds at the summit were light at 33mph, with gusts up to 56mph and temperatures a balmy 22F.
A 32-mile drive along the Kangamangus Highway (a misnamed narrow twisty two-way road) and we were at the Franconia Ridge side of the White Mountains and set up after eight hours sleep (on the floor of our host’s cabin) for day 2 – a 12 miles round trip hike up Mount Garfield.
Garfield’s grade is less aggressive than Washington, with a summit at 4500 feet, rising from 1400 feet at the road and requires a one-mile walk-in along a forest road before the trail begins.
Five miles later, after a couple of rock-hopping stream crossings, tangling with the close-packed tops of fir trees poking through the snow and post-holing (sinking up to the thigh in softening snow) more than 20 times, the summit and its old fire tower base offers spectacular views.

Mount Washington photos:



Mount Garfield photos:



Roll on spring and the mud season - because then it's summer.