Aw shucks, thanks

I "liked" the website www.ticketprinting.com on Facebook and voila, won $500 in printing products which I know I can put to good use. Ticketprinting.com's blog writer, Monica Friedman, subsequently called me, conducted a very engaging interview and published this story. Let's hear it for the arts, education and the power of a beautiful ticket in the hand!

Contest Winner: Solange De Santis

by MONICA FRIEDMAN on DECEMBER 17, 2012

 

 

Solange De Santis published Life on the Line in 2000.

Journalist and Theater Critic Praises the Power of Arts and Education

Let it not be said that Solange De Santis fears getting her hands dirty, plunging into a story, or taking a risk for a cause in which she believes. She may be a writer by trade, but her love of knowledge and education marks her as a modern Renaissance woman. An accomplished journalist and theater critic who once took a job to assembling cars in a doomed GM factory in order to learn, first-hand, the plight of the blue-collar worker, she is also a dedicated educational booster, volunteering her time to support the arts in schools.

“The arts are my passion,” De Santis explains. In addition to directing and running sound for community and school theater, “I play the piano, I sing in the choir at St. Thomas Episcopal Church in Mamaroneck, I’m a judge in the Theatre Startsplaywriting competition in Ontario, Canada, I am doing communications consulting for Westchester’s St. Thomas Orchestra.” Plus, she finds time to help organize dances and other arts-related activities atHommocks Middle School in Mamaroneck, New York.

Arts, Communication, Education, and Tickets

A firm believer in the power of education, De Santis attributes her accomplishments to formal schooling: “I explored the worlds of literature and drama in my undergraduate study at Barnard College and journalism at Columbia’s Graduate School of Journalism. Much later in life, I went to NYU for an M.A. in educational theater, graduating in May 2011.” Communication, she believes, is the key to success, and the arts are the most profound way to communicate. True communication, she feels, “leads to understanding and that means a lot less conflict in the world.”

In the past, De Santis has used TicketPrinting.com to produce tickets for Hommocks’ 8^thgrade dance and “found the service to be fairly easy to use…and very reasonably priced.” Rather than choosing “small, flimsy raffle tickets you can get for $11 in a roll,” which had been used in the past, she “was able to design a much larger ticket with a raffle stub and heavier-weight cardboard with wording customized for our event” for about $80. She found the numbering made “management of the ticket list and the raffle…a breeze. It was an excellent solution.”

Solange De Santis, 2007, with award for Best Sound Design from the Association of Community Theaters-Central Ontario

$500 in Free Printing and a Warm Emotional Glow

Having recently won $500 in free printing from TicketPrinting.com, De Santis is exploring her options and will most likely dedicate the prize to St. Thomas Orchestra’s May concert. Since the orchestra does “not yet have a digital purchase option,” she is also considering Ticket River’s online box office as a solution for Internet sales. She likes the idea of “total solutions,” offered in Event Kits “such as the tickets-poster-flyer package in the classical music section” and finds the service “so useful for schools or amateur/community organizations with limited budgets and people like myself who are not necessarily ticket management professionals.”

In spreading a love of art and music, ticketing options become an important part of creating access. De Santis recognizes how all the details come together create results, and sees that, “the easier the process, the better you can focus on the event itself and [the] better your relations are with your audience.” To her, “a ticket is an essential print product that is part of the overall communications environment.” It’s not merely a way to count heads or push an audience through a gate, but rather, a “little representation of your event,” that can be held in the hand. “Ticket stubs are often saved as souvenirs, pasted into scrapbooks…even in the digital age,” she reminds us, and, “A nice-looking ticket creates a warm emotional glow.”

The Rev. Garrison's revival meeting

What tall white man from Minnesota could possibly keep 65 virtuoso musicians waiting as he rambled on about his high school girlfriend?

Garrison Keillor, of course, whose appearance last night with the New York Philharmonic turned Lincoln Center's Avery Fisher Hall into an extension of the studio where he's hosted National Public Radio's A Prairie Home Companion for almost four decades.

Garrison Keillor

The format of the program, a benefit for the Philharmonic's pension fund, was quite intriguing and nothing like Prairie Home's country-tinged variety show. Along with conductor/pianist Rob Fisher, pianist Richard Dworsky and soprano Christine DiGiallonardo, Keillor loosely organized the program on the theme of music that has influenced his life.

That music includes hymns and with the perspective of a man who has turned 70, matters of the soul were also addressed, resulting in what amounted to a gently-led revival meeting in the heart of secular New York City.

Fisher and the orchestra opened the program with Emil von Reznicek's Overture to Donna Diana, a speedy work that was, in part, used as the theme to the old radio and TV shows featuring Sgt. Preston of the Yukon (and his "trusty dog," King).

Keillor then ambled out, dressed in suit, red bow tie and signature red sneakers. He has a stage presence like few others. Six feet, three inches tall, he seldom looks at the audience, in fact often turns his back, apparently addressing the orchestra. Possibly he is overcome by Lutheran shyness - the desire not to make a spectacle of oneself. He is not a graceful figure, at times resembling a man whose joints have been glued into one position.

Keillor noted that Philharmonic concertmaster Glenn Dicterow will be retiring shortly and mused on the indignities of age - "people take your elbow." He recited seven sonnets, mostly on love, some on existential themes. (Addressing God - "When I die like other folks/I don't want to find out you're a hoax.") Who else would rhyme "Zhivago" with "Chicago" in an ode to Julie Christie?

The world of faith has always been a thread in Keillor's work and another poem lauded "Episcopalian/saving my love for you." Raised a member of the Plymouth Brethren in rural Minnesota, Keillor has outlined the foibles of Scandinavian and German Lutherans and currently attends an Episcopal church.

The orchestra interspersed various pieces, such as the Trepak from The Nutcracker and opened the second half with Stravinsky's Circus Polka.

Keillor continued his thoughts on age in an improvisatory section called "Over & Over & Ever Again." I was reminded that whenever I think I could hear the same ramblings from somebody's uncle in a living room, this extraordinary writer will create an image of surpassing beauty. And this was it: as you age, "the water that passes you by is full of music."

Proving the point, he and DiGiallonardo sang the hymn "Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing," which contains the lyrics "Tune my heart to sing thy grace/Streams of mercy never ceasing/Call for songs of loudest praise." Keillor's surprisingly supple baritone and intelligent harmonizing melded beautifully with DiGiallonardo's crystalline tone.

Here's Mumford and Sons' version of this ardent, lovely song:



Keillor then expressed what I think is about the profoundest, simplest expression of a man engaging faith in the modern world that I've ever heard. He recalled that his mother, as she was dying, "believed she would walk into the arms of Jesus." Then he said: "I have believed it from time to time. Not right at this moment. But maybe tomorrow."

In the entire audience of New Yorkers primed to hear a humorist, in a world where the sophisticated view is to laugh at mention of religion, absolutely no one laughed.

Oh, there was plenty of humor as Keillor and the musicians ranged over a landscape that segued from "Oh, What A Beautiful Morning" into Tchaikovsky's Serenade into the Erie Canal song into the Texaco jingle into the Coke jingle into Amazing Grace into the Oscar Meyer weiner jingle. (Although I have to say that having the New York Philharmonic play ad jingles is like having Shakespeare write your office memo.)

At 2 1/2 hours, the program could have been half an hour shorter, but it ended with "Come Thou Fount" again. Our hearts were in tune and the waters of forgiveness and blessing flowed over all.

The Public Theater shines its house

Attending the Public Theater's Oct. 4 celebration of its newly renovated Astor Place home in lower Manhattan, I had to marvel "who woulda thought it if you were there at the beginning?"

Joseph Papp founded the New York Shakespeare Festival (which became the Public Theater) in 1954 on almost nothing and in the early years of the festival fought municipal power broker Robert Moses over whether he could offer Shakespeare for free in Central Park. (Papp won and the Public has been producing free Shakespeare ever since.)

Today, the $40 million revitalization of the 158-year-old Astor Library was cheered by New York Mayor Michael Bloomberg and a host of cultural officials from a municipality that put up a heroic $28 million of the total cost. Bloomberg noted that in 1967, the city rented the dilapidated building to Papp for $1 per year and "we have been richly repaid."

In addition, Ford Foundation president Luis Ubinas not only represented a major funding organization, but told a poignant memory of visiting the place as a young man and encountering Papp, who told him he was too early for curtain time but to stick around because he was welcome.

In its 58 years of existence, the influence of the Public Theater can't be overestimated, from the idea that great theater belongs to everyone (the Public's mobile unit takes Shakespeare to New York neighborhoods and such institutions as prisons); to the development of plays and musicals that speak to the times (Hair, Sticks and Bones, The Normal Heart); to the nurturing of African-American, Asian, female playwrights; to pioneering the workshop model of play development (A Chorus Line).  

The Public Theater's newly-renovated lobby with artist Ben Rubin's "Shakespeare Machine" - a chandelier with lighted digital blades that will be programmed with quotes from the Bard.

The building now houses four theaters and the successful cabaret venue Joe's Pub. Remarkably, the theaters remained open during the four-year renovation. Last spring, when I saw Gatz (click HERE for that blog post), I walked on planks and stepped around construction equipment.

Ubinas recalled that the Public's current artistic director, Oskar Eustis, in fine Pappian spirit, started the ball rolling by saying, "I have this impossible-to-renovate old building. There are no [original architectural] plans. The building could fall in for all we know once we open it up."

What's resulted under the leadership of Ennead Architects is a spectacular re-thinking of the lobby and exterior. On the sidewalk, the main entrance now embraces the street with a glass canopy and wide granite steps and ramps. Historic preservation work restored the brick work and decoration on the facade.

The lobby gleams with a unified box office, "library" area and balcony on the mezzanine, restoration of historic moldings and a digital chandelier that will run quotes from Shakespeare in unique patterns. The Public has brought in some excellent chefs, starting with Joe's Pub, to create unique menus but it doesn't quite seem in the egalitarian spirit to serve $14 cocktails.

Work done in the theaters themselves involved heating, ventilation and air conditioning upgrades, addition of fire sprinklers and electrical upgrades. I was a little disappointed to see that the pathetically uncomfortable seats in the Newman Theater which I encountered at Gatz are apparently remaining in place.

But Eustis said the space is truly "open to the public," and you can walk into the lobby "go to that fountain and get a drink." The spirit of Papp was present as Eustis said "the greatest art belong to everybody and it is made greater if it belongs to everybody." The Public has always been founded on that idea of communication and community, that theater isn't just a one-way street.

Vanessa Redgrave reciting Shakespeare as Oskar Eustis looks on. 

In a heartfelt directorial stroke, performance was part of the celebration and Vanessa Redgrave, Mandy Patinkin, Liev Schreiber, playwrights David Henry Hwang and Suzan-Lori Parks, Bloomberg and Papp's widow Gail, among others, took turns reading appropriate excerpts from Shakespeare:

"I have lived to see inherited my very wishes and the buildings of my fancy." Coriolanus

"There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple." The Tempest

When we mean to build/We first survey the plot." Henry IV 1

And Eustis wrapped with "I can no other answer make but thanks/And thanks; and ever thanks. (Twelfth Night)

And to leave us with a rousing song, the young cast of the recent Broadway revival of Hair sang "Let the Sun Shine In" from the mezzanine. It was a fitting sendoff for another half century, at least.

The cast of Hair 

Definitely not Sesame Street

Mamaroneck, N.Y.'s Westchester Sandbox Theatre continues to score the premiere regional runs of major Broadway musicals. As I was able to catch up with Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson (see blog post here) several months ago, having missed it in Manhattan, I was similarly able a few days ago to see Avenue Q, the puppet drama that is decidedly not Sesame Street.

It's the same idea -- a group of characters hanging out in and around an urban apartment building -- but with a decidedly adult twist. You really haven't lived until you've seen two "naked" puppets having sex.

The story begins with naive young Princeton (Todd Ritch), who sings the witty opening song, "What Do You Do With a B.A. in English?" which is as resonant now as it was ten years ago when Avenue Q opened. He is, of course, looking for an apartment -- the eternal Manhattan quest -- and finds one at a building where the janitor is Gary Coleman (Kenney M. Green), "the" Gary Coleman formerly of TV fame.

The other residents are unemployed (this really is relevant today!) Brian (Jeremy Geller), giving voice to his circumstances in "It Sucks to Be Me." But it doesn't wholly suck to be Brian, as he has a fantastic Asian wife (Alanna Chuyan) named, inexplicably, Christmas Eve.

Princeton meets an insecure teacher's assistant, Kate (Triona O'Callaghan) and two guys who are roommates, Nicky (Jake Mills) and Rod (also Ritch). An odd fuzzy fellow named Trekkie Monster (with a passing resemblance to Sesame Street's Cookie Monster and also played by Mills) lives upstairs.

The original concept by Robert Lopez and Jeff Marx (also responsible for the book and lyrics, respectively) cleverly included a video screen with various animated scenes commenting on the action. One can also see why Lopez was chosen to work on Book of Mormon, as characters that recall the squeaky-clean puppets of Sesame Street live in today's f-bomb reality.

Trekkie Monster enthusiastically sings about how "The Internet Is For Porn." Rod is so far into denial of his sexuality that the realization that he's gay is liberating. Nicky may or may not be gay (we all did wonder about Bert and Ernie, didn't we?).

There's a youth-TV type of social lesson - the "monsters" (Kate is one) are discriminated against and Kate forms a special school (the "Monsterssori School") for them.

The scenic design by Bob Butterley makes the most of a simple apartment block facade. I liked lighting designer Nathan Gray's choice of shadows for the opening. Stephen Ferri's small band was tight and bright and Bryan McPartlan and Jon Hatton's sound design able supported the players.

Overall, the songs and Jeff Whitty's book are so jaunty and good-natured that where I found Book of Mormon to be leering and not particularly amusing, I was perfectly willing to go where Avenue Q's troupe wanted to lead. 

Sandbox in the garden

Theater companies need to keep moving - like sharks in the deep ocean - in order to live. By that I don't mean change for change's sake, but movement that is a logical outgrowth of what's gone before.

The Westchester Sandbox Theatre, coming up on the fourth anniversary of its founding in November 2008, last weekend produced its first outdoor show in its home base of Mamaroneck, N.Y. - a production of You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown.

This follows by a few months the theater group's first partnership with the town's primary theatrical venue, the Emelin Theatre, on a production of Smokey Joe's Cafe (see that blog post here).

The Sandbox is primarily a youth theater, but also produces adult shows (such as Smokey Joe). Executive director Dan Ferrante, partnering with the Village of Mamaroneck Arts Council, staged the show in Columbus Park, a venue next to the Mamaroneck Metro-North train station, but separated from it by a river and trees that buffer the train noise. That's the 19th-century station in the photo below, now a restaurant called Club Car.  

You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown in Mamaroneck, N.Y.'s Columbus Park featuring, from left, Ben DeMarco (Schroeder), Andi Rella (Lucy), Ross DeMarco (Linus), Hanna Lankler (Sally), Keith Pagnani (Charlie) and Brian Craft (Snoopy). 

Although stagehands were still hammering the set together at the scheduled start time of 3 pm on a gorgeously mild Saturday afternoon, things got rolling shortly thereafter and this free community show became an experience of pure pleasure.

The young cast (see above) brought to charming life the stories of characters in the Peanuts comic strip: hapless but hopeful Charlie Brown, classical pianist Schroeder, bossy Lucy, blanket-hugging Linus, bouncy Sally and everyone's favorite beagle, Snoopy (that's his red dog house on the right).

They were all fine singers and exhibited a brisk level of professionalism that was really tested when a gust of wind blew over Lucy's blue "the doctor is in" stand (she gives psychological advice). The cast vamped and supported the stand until a couple of helpers ran over and got behind it to hold it up.  

Ferrante and a drummer (there was no program) ably provided the musical accompaniment, the body mics worked and lyrics were clearly heard (often a problem with an outdoor gig). Since the weather was cooperating, families brought folding chairs, blankets and snacks.

Little girls dancing during Charlie Brown.

These little girls (see photo at right) never stopped dancing during the hour-long show and I greeted several friends and neighbors, including a couple who had brought their one-year-old daughter.

However, the performers onstage were doing their jobs so well that they held the attention of an audience potentially distracted by sunlight, afternoon bustle, kids and rustling chip bags.

This was a beautiful and logical development of the Sandbox Theatre's youth and community mission and I hope it becomes an annual event.    

Play that Ragtime

Although I don't think Ragtime is a great musical, you couldn't find a better production that the one playing now through October 14 at the Shaw Festival in Niagara-on-the-Lake, Ontario, directed by the festival's artistic director, Jackie Maxwell.

The festival, currently celebrating its 50th year, began by focusing on the works of George Bernard Shaw and his contemporaries, then expanded to include contemporary works set within the timespan of Shaw's life. Good thing he lived to age 94 (1856-1950)!

Ragtime, set in the first decade of the 20th century and based on E.L. Doctorow's novel, premiered in Toronto in 1996 under the banner of producer Garth Drabinsky's Live Entertainment Company. I remember interviewing Drabinsky for a story in the Wall Street Journal, where I was a staff reporter at the time. It was at rehearsal and Brian Stokes Mitchell was onstage. "He's going to be a major star," I remarked and Drabinsky replied, "Yes, and I've got him."

Thom Allison as Coalhouse Walker in Ragtime at the Shaw Festival

Not only did Stokes Mitchell create a huge impression, but so did Audra McDonald and Marin Mazzie. The production even featured a ten-year-old Lea Michele, later to star in Glee.

Doctorow - and the show - set out to create a sweeping sense of American life at the start of a turbulent era.

Fictional characters included a white family in the New York suburb of New Rochelle; a Harlem ragtime piano player and a Jewish immigrant. Historical figures also crowded the action - Harry Houdini, Henry Ford, J.P. Morgan, Evelyn Nesbit, Emma Goldman.

That's been my problem with this show. It's always felt like a preachy history lesson where the human stories are presented in frames - "now look at this" - rather than developing organically. However, Stephen Flaherty and Lynn Ahrens' music and lyrics find the passion and beauty of the stories: the New Rochelle family's Mother (as she is called) finds an abandoned baby and takes in him and his desperate mother, a black woman named Sarah; the baby's father is a ragtime pianist named Coalhouse Walker who eventually seeks justice through violence; and the immigrant, Tateh, tries to survive the poverty of the Lower East Side and make a better life for his daughter.

The dazzling score, featuring such wonderful melodies as "Ragtime," and "Wheels of a Dream," receives heartfelt interpretations from the magnetic Thom Allison as Coalhouse, sensitive Patty Jamieson as Mother, Jay Turvey as optimistic Tateh, stalwart Benedict Campbell as Father. Alana Hibbert as Sarah can't quite match the vocal power of McDonald (and it's probably not fair to compare anyone to McDonald), but brought out a fragile quality in the character.

Thom Allison (right) and the ensemble in Ragtime

Special mention should also go to featured player Nichola Lawrence who has an electrifying bluesy turn in the role of Sarah's Friend.

Sue LePage's scaffold-like set provides number of satisfying levels as Morgan, Ford, Goldman and Booker T. Washington all need to declaim at some point. Alan Brodie's lighting design, coupled with Ben Chiasson's and Beth Kates' projections (one that really impressed me was an impressionistic video of life in the tenements), really lift the show into heaven.

Maxwell's staging is so interesting - such as two wheeled frames representing ships, one of which is carrying Father to explore the North Pole with Admiral Peary - and the cast performs with such consistent style. But Ragtime, at two hours, 45 minutes, has always been too long. For instance, the song "What A Game" (about baseball) doesn't move the action forward and could be dropped. However, as I was thinking those thoughts during the song, I was simultaneously enjoying Campbell trying to tell his son about the game while shielding him from the raucous elements in the crowd.

I'm glad to see that Ragtime is a hit for Shaw, which hasn't done many musicals, as this luminous production certainly deserves to be one.

A couple of personal notes: in 1996, long before I came to live in Mamaroneck, N.Y., just a few miles north of New Rochelle, I took no notice of a line in the show spoken by a train conductor: "All aboard for Mamaroneck!" This time, it produced a moment of delight for me and my companion, teacher and director Ron Cameron-Lewis, a visitor to Mamaroneck this year.

A friend in the cast, Stewart Adam McKensy, continues to be one of the most talented tap dancers, singers and actors I've seen and ably anchors the ensemble (that's him in the center of the photo above). The Shaw audience will really appreciate Stewart's talents when he performs as Coalhouse for several shows this fall. Break legs, Stewart.      

Bad boys and books at Stratford

A recent day at the Stratford Shakespeare Festival in Ontario showed that Captain Jack Sparrow wasn't the first pirate ill-suited for plundering and that age can sweeten, not diminish, acting brilliance.

The festival is celebrating - like Queen Elizabeth II - its 60th season, in this case of an unlikely quest to bring Shakespeare to Ontario farm country. Like the venerable monarch, it has weathered a few crises through the years, but is now world-renowned and much-loved.

I have only been visiting Stratford since 1986, which makes me a mere pup among those with memories of a large tent in 1953 and Alec Guinness as Richard III - "Now is the winter of our discontent …"

There was no Shakespeare on this particular visit, which featured Gilbert and Sullivan's The Pirates of Penzance and Christopher Plummer's one-man show, A Word or Two.

As Pirates opens, we are backstage at a Victorian theater, behind the asbestos curtain and the stage scaffolding that's crowned by a clock with exposed gears. During the overture, the actors stretch; when the curtain rises, they stride forward, turn - and we are there. Director Ethan McSweeny and set designer Anna Louizos have primed us for fun.

At the beginning, Thomas the Pirate King (Sean Arbuckle) meets an unusual problem - his apprentice, Frederic (Kyle Blair), is about to turn 21 and once free of his indenture (apprentice obligation), intends to become a policeman and pursue his former companions.

As Thomas, Arbuckle's swash and buckle is delightfully mannered though not quite a foppish as Johnny Depp's Jack Sparrow. These don't seem to be really tough pirates anyway, as they drink to Frederic's health with sherry. Also, he reminds them that, since they are all orphans and it is well-known they have a soft spot for other orphans, everyone they capture claims to be an orphan and goes scot-free.

Gabrielle Jones as Ruth, Kyle Blair as Frederic and Sean Arbuckle as Thomas, the Pirate King in  The Pirates of Penzance at the Stratford Shakespeare Festival in Ontario 

Frederic, played by Blair with wide-eyed earnestness, leaves his faithful nurse Ruth (the wonderfully vigorous Gabrielle Jones) and goes in search of the female companionship he's never known, having sailed with the pirates since he was a boy. He finds a lovely girl, Mabel  (Amy Wallis), in among a plethora of sisters lovingly looked after by their father, pompous but endearing Major-General Stanley (C. David Johnson).

Penzance contains some of Gilbert and Sullivan's best-known songs. Johnson (a handsome man nearly unrecognizable under grey mutton chop whiskers, mustache and eyebrows) nimbly skips through "I Am the Very Model of a Modern Major-General," with a verse interpolated that sings of Stratford's 60th.

I was surprised to realize that the tune "Hail, Hail the Gang's All Here" was originally in Pirates as part of the song "With Cat-Like Tread," where the pirates attempt to sneak up on a comical gang of policemen, making more noise than an army of cats. The song that stayed with me was the ravishingly beautiful love song, "Ah Leave Me Not to Pine."

All the voices in this Pirates are very strong, especially Willis' delicate soprano, with appropriate Victorian vibrato, and Blair's sturdy tenor. Paul Tazewell's costumes, layered intricacy channeling the steampunk modern Victorian ethic, are a marvel save for a misstep at the end featuring the girls in short wedding dresses. Marcos Santana's joy-filled choreography also deserves mention. McSweeny has created a Pirates for today, full of comic dash and wit, and we are the richer for it.

Riches of a literary sort are the subject of Christopher Plummer's homage to the books, plays and poetry that  have shaped his aesthetic, his dreams, his outlook on life. This 82-year-old master, who has played everything there is to play, from Hamlet to Prospero to a certain Sound of Music, was there at Stratford's start and is still going strong. 

Christopher Plummer

The set features a twisting stack of books, a couple of chairs and a lectern, but Plummer has memorized most of the material, as he had when I saw him last year in a program of excerpts from Henry V with music from the film played by the New York Philharmonic.

It is a charming and eclectic walk through a life in love with words, from his childhood in Montreal surrounded by women - his mother and aunts - to a great stage and screen career. Director Des McAnuff (also Stratford's outgoing artistic director) weaves in a bit of music and some video projections, but mostly the show is vintage Plummer. 

His boyhood companions were A.A. Milne and Lewis Carroll. The Bible surprised him, being "alive and rich in adventure" and containing such sensuous prose as the Song of Solomon -- "comfort me with apples."

Plummer has particular affection for poet W.H. Auden and recites with a southern accent Auden's version of Herod learning of the birth of Jesus. Just when I thought things were getting a little too campy, Plummer exclaimed, "Why am I doing this in a southern accent?" and getting a huge laugh, but the program also allowed him to show off his mastery of accents - American, British, Welsh, French.

The 90-minute show's energy seemed to flag a little around the one-hour point, though Plummer was never less than a charming host, companion and raconteur. His memories resonated with me, since I make sense of the world through words. My mother read to me and my brother, as Plummer's mother did to him.

The last words he gives to Emily Dickinson:

He ate and drank the precious words,
His spirit grew robust;
He knew no more that he was poor,
Nor that his frame was dust.
He danced along the dingy days,

And this bequest of wings
Was but a book. What liberty
A loosened spirit brings!