Ampersand Gazeette #19
Welcome to the Ampersand Gazette, a metaphysical take on the news of the day. If you know others like us, who want to create a world that includes and works for everyone, please feel free to share this newsletter. The sign-up is here. And now, on with the latest …
“Until very recently, America was a place where fresh starts were celebrated, championed, romanticized, rooted for (if sufficiently earned). The idea of second chances is a centerpiece of rehabilitation and renewal programs, with organizations named for it and even a month devoted to it by the White House. In restorative justice circles—in which those who committed an act of harm may sit down with their victim or a broader community to try to make amends—one of the core principles is that people are never the sum of their worst mistakes.”
from an Opinion Essay by Jessica Bennett “Lea Michele and the Question of Second Chances”
in The New York Times
September 6, 2022
Indeed, the very founding of this nation [the US] was based on the notion that certain religiosities needed a fresh start, somewhere new, and not mired in how things had always been done. Ms. Bennett is right: until very recently, America was known for offering fresh starts to every- and anyone who needed one.
We prided ourselves on being a “melting pot” of all different nationalities, religions, ethnicities, even languages, that learned day by day how to muddle along together. What’s happened?
People ask me this all time: how did we get where we are today?
They’re referring to all sorts of public issues whose trajectories they don’t like. To name a few: the policing of women’s bodies, gun violence, what’s being taught in schools, book banning, political polarization so dramatic that no one can see where it resolves, the care and feeding of transgender kids, even who gets a chance at a Broadway comeback.
It might be said that Lea Michele’s entire career, from the time she arose in the wider public eye as Rachael on Glee even though she’d starred in Broadway musicals before then, was hellbent on the role of Fanny Brice in Funny Girl. No one can argue that she has the chops. No one. Voice? Check. Comedic timing? Check. Dance 10? Check.
But does she have the character?
A much younger, less prudent, Lea Michele was less than kind to her co-workers on Glee, particularly those who were persons of color. When she landed a lucrative endorsement contract, the wronged parties spoke up. Her contract with the sponsor was cancelled.
By then, Ms. Michele was married with son, Ever. She was still working—making albums, doing concerts—but she kept a low profile, focused on her new mothering status.
The long-anticipated revival of Funny Girl was announced with Beanie Feldstein in the title role. Beanie had most of those chops, but not the vocal one. The producers knew it, too. Some of them, it has turned out, were already talking to Lea Michele about taking over once the show opened, before Beanie ever even set foot on the stage as Fanny Brice. Speaking out of both sides of one’s mouth, anyone?
Beanie gave the role her all, but I mean, all. She was funny as all get-out, but she couldn’t hold the vocal strength through the show. The critics panned it. Beanie was stalwart, leading the company despite the bad reviews. She was a true leader.
What do you do when you have the starring role in a so-so production? You carry on. You inspire others. You buck up. You stay with your discipline. You show up. Eight shows a week. Because the audiences were there wanting to see the show that hadn’t been on Broadway since Barbra had won a Tony for it.
The grosses [Broadway code for weekly income] started to fall. Slowly but surely. More of the producers started longing for Lea Michele. Eventually, a hugely elegant Beanie Feldstein bowed out of her contract saying only that the producers had “decided to go a different direction” with the show.
Enter Lea Michele. Here was her fresh start, her second chance.
And from the same essay …
“The researchers argued that effective second acts include three primary elements: remorse (which, Dr. Bies noted, should be genuine and include an apology), rehabilitation (whether the public figures are taking steps to better themselves or, in the parlance of the internet, do better) and restoration (the ability to integrate what they have learned into public life).”
Was Lea remorseful about her treatment of her castmates on Glee? She sure was, and she was publicly apologetic, and genuine about it. I do not know whether she was courageous enough to approach those colleagues directly.
Was Lea ready to “do better?” I might hazard a guess that the years of mothering and enforced quietude caused a certain amount of soul-searching, and that Lea most likely had and took the chance to revise her definition of ‘ambitious actor.’ [There is, of course, the standing myth that if a performer isn’t cut-throat about her competition, she won’t succeed. Not true, but the myth persists.]
Was Lea ready to practice what she preached? If another article in The Times is correct, she began speaking more about what it is to be a leader rather than what it is to be a star. That says to me, yes, she was.
And so second-chance queen, Lea Michele, duly chastised and ready to lead, arrived on Broadway as Fanny Brice. She did three performances to wild ovations. They grossed a million dollars more in one week than it had before.
Then she got a questionable COVID test result. Not a yes, not a no.
The Lea Michele who played Rachael might have insisted on staying in the show till the results were unmistakable, but second-chance, chastised Lea Michele took herself out of the show—no matter how disappointed she must have felt.
Is that proof of her transformation? Sure. If you want it to be. Why not?
More importantly, Lea Michele, as we all must do in order to survive here together on our small planet, has learned the lesson of Jewish theologian Martin Buber who wrote a book called I Thou. Lea put thou right up there with I, and we all must learn once again to think like this. All.
If you need evidence that any of us (and all of us) deserve a second chance, we’re actually given one every single day. It’s called sunrise, and each new day is a second chance for each one of us to do better.
&
“To the Editor:
“As an 85-year-old, I couldn’t agree more with Rebecca S. Fahrlander (letters, Aug. 17) that it is time to find a new term to replace the stereotyping and “touch of ageism” implicit in “retirement.” I would vote for the term “re-engagement,” which has worked very well for me during the 20 years since I turned 65.
“It is amazing what a difference it makes to wake up in the morning knowing that I will be re-engaged with life and the world, rather than slowly retreating from both. “Re-engagement” has worked for me. I recommend it.
Darrel Morrison
Madison, Wis.
The writer is a former professor of landscape architecture and the author of “Beauty of the Wild,” published last year.
“Out of the mouths of babes! When I retired from teaching at Indiana University in 1996, my then 4-year-old granddaughter announced that she was excited to be going to Grandma’s “recyclement” party. As soon as those words popped out of her mouth, I knew she had something there! “Recyclement” was the perfect replacement for that old-fashioned word “retirement.”
Like many “retirees,” I went on to a second career, cofounding and serving as artistic director of a theater company where I am still “recycled” today.
Audrey B. Heller
Bloomington, Ind.
“When I retired in 1993 from being in charge of worldwide art movements for the Metropolitan Museum of Art, I called it a “permanent sabbatical,” and have since written five books for well-known publishers.
John Buchanan
New York
“My solution has been to use the word “rewired.” For those of us who remain active, either in our professional fields or in new and innovative ways, the word “rewired” seems appropriate. We can continue to “rewire” our brains and learn new skills long after we “retire” from our old jobs.
Helen Ogden
Pacific Grove, Calif.”
From Letters to the Editor in The New York Times
September 6, 2022
I had a long-running discussion with a dear friend for many years about retirement. She was squirreling her money away so that she could retire. It’s what her parents had done. I had no trouble with that, but what I did want to know was … retire to what?
She, of course, was focused on retiring from, not to. She was retiring from working every day. I met her parents later in their lives, long after their retirement. What they did was sit in recliners day after day with the television blasting the news. For years.
It’s why I was so intent on asking retire to … and my friend never had an answer.
To retire comes from French roots that mean to draw back. That’s exactly what she wanted, to draw back from life, but now she’s in her early seventies with the likelihood of decades of life in front of her, and not a clue as to what to do about them.
I’ve never wanted to retire. From what? I always asked. Really? I don’t do anything that I desire to draw back from. In fact, almost everything I do, I want to lean forward toward.
The other association of the word retire that has stopped me from feeling enchanted with it is that it’s used to mean to go to bed. It also sounds to my ears like get tired again.
Is it any wonder that I liked reengagement, recyclement, permanent sabbatical [although this one the least], and rewired?
Retirement is for people who work at repetitive jobs they don’t like, wherein there’s no room for innovation or creativity, who long to make a sincere contribution to the world that their day jobs are preventing them from making. Ohhhhh. Well, that explains a lot of things, doesn’t it?
The other day a client wrote to me to say she’d just discovered the etymology of the word deadline and did I have a suggestion for something better because of where it comes from? Look it up—it has to do with firing squads, and isn’t that cheery? So I said yes, I did. I think of them as commitments to timelines, so I said how about commit-lines or time-ments?
Language is a living breathing thing, Beloved, and it’s up to each one of us to keep it breathing. Making up words is how vocabularies grow. Ours and those of everyone else.
If you don’t like the word for something, choose another one! People make up words all the time and why not? It’s our language to grow as we please.
&
“How to Nurse A Vulnerability Hangover” in The New York Times
September 18, 2022
There is no quote from this essay. I was just struck by the title of the article, which, it turned out, was about how we feel the day after we “over-share.” Well, right there there’s a problem for me. What’s over-sharing and who gets to decide how much is over?
Apparently, we tend to over-judge our own over-sharing and the vulnerable feeling in its wake whilst thinking that when others share their vulnerabilities, we think of it as courage.
No surprises there. Not really. What I want to draw our attention to, though, is the double standard at work here. Why is it that when I over-share, I’m vulnerable which is a code word for weak? But when you over-share, I perceive it as courage? How does that make a speck of sense?
The word vulnerable means quite literally woundable, and we humans go about our lives day after day telling ourselves we are not vulnerable, that we’re safe, that we have nothing to fear, ad infinitum. But that’s not really true. It’s an illusion we invest in maintaining so that we can go on about our daily business.
The real truth is … we’re all vulnerable all of the time. Just walking on a city sidewalk next to the two-thousand pound weapons we call cars makes us vulnerable. Viruses make us vulnerable. Enemies—of any kind—make us vulnerable.
And therein lies a spiritual lesson. When we have no enemies, we are less vulnerable. Think on that. In fact, think hard on it. No enemies means just that no enemies: None. At all. Ever. Enemy is no longer a category, off the menu, kaput.
According to Brené Brown, who coined the term vulnerability hangover, when others see our vulnerability, they might perceive something quite different [from what we ourselves judge it to be], something alluring.
“A recent set of studies calls this phenomenon ‘the beautiful mess effect.’ Now that phrase too struck me. What is a beautiful mess effect? It suggests that everyone should be less afraid of opening up because when we don’t, we can miss what matters.
Consider what your vulnerability might do …
You might help someone.
You might have a learning experience.
We don’t always know the effect we wield on others. I personally think that if we did, we’d be totally paralyzed. Maybe the smile you give the elevator operator makes his day. Maybe the sharing of a scary diagnosis helps someone else deal with theirs. Maybe your vulnerability is the price for peace.
We’re still deciding whether it’s a price we want to pay. I, for one, do. Instead of bring me your tired, your poor, your downtrodden, bring me your vulnerability, Beloved. When I show you mine, together we can make a plan for the future. One that keeps all of us safely vulnerable.
What do you say? It’s Ampersand living through and through.
&
And in publishing news …
Podcasting wound down a tiny bit in late August as families (and hosts) were gearing up for back to school, but they’re scheduling gangbusters now, and I am quite happily in demand. It’s totally fun to have mastered the technology and to engage in depth conversation one-on-one usually for perennial content.
That’s one of the reasons I chose podcasting as my primary marketing strategy. The content, once posted, is evergreen. You can be found today on a podcast you did in 2015—I kid you not. And people do binge-listen.
This past week I met with Daniel Hanneman from Spiritual Rockstar; that ought to be up soon.
My visit with Jenn Dragonette on Feed Your Business With Love should come out tomorrow. That was a totally magical time. Jenn lives in Northern California in the same town where I briefly touched down. We bonded on that basis alone and, God help her, it was 117 degrees that day in a place where it’s never more than 80! She was melting but we carried on valiantly anyway.
&
Also this week, I’m doing a free presentation for OneSpirit Learning Alliance on How to Be A Chakra Detective. Here is the link to register:
https://www.1spirit.org/community/events/gathering-9-22-22.
We truly stick to the exact hour so join us to learn how to address any issue you might have for insight through the chakra system.
&
I’m still working diligently on my chakra correspondences documents. This is a compendium of chakra information that I’ve been gathering for more than 40 years! It’s all finally coming together because I learned how to use an Excel spreadsheet, believe it or not. It’s a whole load of fun compiling what will eventually amount to an abbreviated chakra encyclopedia. It should go a long way toward helping anyone who wants to learn about how to work with their chakras.
&
Finally, I was invited by a new website for readers called shepherd, com to participate in their author-recommendation based book reviews. They promote one of my books in a genre if I’ll write a brief, personal review of why I liked or didn’t like these books in the same genre. It was a barrel of fun to do, and I was able to do four pages for them!
One for mysteries to promote Oklahoma! Hex and The Mex Mysteries, one for romances to promote Attending Physician and The Boots & Boas Romances, one for historical fiction to promote Jezebel Rising and The Subversive Lovelies, and one for nonfiction to promote The Energy Integrity Workbooks.
One of the issues I had was deciding whether to recommend theatre books or mysteries for The Mex Mysteries. I ended up making both lists, so you get the blessing of the theatre book reviews that I didn’t use for The Mex Mysteries.
Shy: The Alarmingly Outspoken Memoir of Mary Rodgers by Mary Rodgers & Jesse Green
I knew Mary Rodgers Guettel in her later years. I met her when I worked for the Rodgers & Hammerstein Estates. She was charming, funny, smart as a whip, and she happened to be the author of my all-time favorite musical ever.
Many years later, I was invited to do a renewal of wedding vows for some friends on their 10th anniversary. Mary was in attendance. When a mutual friend reintroduced us, I said, “Oooh, you wrote my favorite musical!” She leaned forward and whispered, “Yes, but we try to keep that quiet in this crowd.”
That musical is, of course, Once Upon A Mattress, the story of Prince Dauntless and Princess Winnifred, and the kingdom with the talkative Queen Aggravain and the mute King Sextimus. The fifth Mex book is about Mattress; it’s called Mattress Police.
Anyway, her memoir is definitely alarmingly outspoken. She dishes with the best of them, and bends over backwards to disclose her own semi-, demi-, and hemi-truths. Her assessment of her parents is to break one’s heart.
And that’s the whole point of her memoir. Mary’s heart is in the right place. It was from the time her mother told her to her face, “We love you but we don’t like you.” Later on in life, Mary realized that, actually, the reverse was true.
Well worth your reading time.
And until next time, be ampersand, dear one, and include everyone,
S.