Work break. Sort of.

Words I would like never to have to respond to again, in current order of loathing: "economic vitality," "diversity/inclusivity," "the underserved," "takeaways," "deliverables."

I am not at all opposed to the concepts underlying these terms. (For example, the arts do contribute economically to their communities.) I am, however, hugely opposed to the idea that in order to merit funding as a performing artist, I must somehow discern and then provide to funders information on the ethnicity, sexual orientation, and income level of every audience member I attract. I am even more opposed to the idea that art deserves funding only when people with certain targeted characteristics (whatever they are) encounter it.

I am truly in favor of finding ways to increase accessibility to the arts, but audience demographics are not a path TO artistic excellence. It works the other way around: if I make truly great art, more people of all types will be interested in coming to see it. But it shouldn't be my job to determine if my audiences match your desired target characteristics.

My "deliverable" is a performance. Your "takeaway" requires you to show up and see my work and then make your own decision about its worth. That job can't be outsourced. Funders, please stop putting pressure on your grantees to run Gallup polls on every audience. Try seeing our work instead.

In case you can't tell, I hate grant final-reports season. Six down, two to go...end of rant.

So good.

The Medium Chill

This week the T-bird spent about 48 hours in the hospital. We're all still bouncing back in terms of work, housework, sleep, and general sociability. Good things have happened--he is home, he is on the mend, we are all breathing, we have friends in town visiting, and Miranda saw her first professional play at the Shakespeare Festival with me--but right now I'm still spending my last fifteen minutes of downtime on surfing the web.

And this article is about a philosophy too attractive not to contemplate. We have already integrated parts of it into our lives, but haven't articulated it this thoroughly in explicit terms.

So much is happening at all kinds of levels that I need to process. Our archbishop is changing archdioceses--that will be a big deal around here depending on his replacement, and will mean interesting things ahead for Philly where I used to live. I've got an essay on the Tea Party and religion in America due in a few weeks. I'm taking an intensive French-for-scholarly-reading class that is kicking my butt in terms of homework and comprehension, and I'm trying to decide how best to pursue learning to speak and listen to it once this class is over. LiveMocha has been recommended by a few friends so I will look into that and Rosetta Stone.

It's because I have too much too say that it's probably better for me to take a break until my mind quiets down enough to focus on a single topic. But do check out the article, and comment if you like it.

Camping!

We took the T-bird and the bug up to Rocky Mountain National Park at the beginning of the month, for Tucker's first camping trip and major hike. The camping itself went remarkably smoothly; both children slept like logs and enjoyed sharing a tent with us very much. The hike up to Bierstadt Lake ran into a few snags, though.

This is the year of the slowest snowpack melt on record. As of June 1, the Peak-to-Peak Highway was not yet open because there was still over 13 ft. of snow on the road. So about 1.7 mi into our 2-mile mountain hike, we ran into a snow field, as shown. What you can't tell from the photo is that the snow was at least Tucker-waist deep in many spots, even though it was probably close to 60 degrees outside. So we decided to turn back a bit short of the lake, judging it preferable to losing our son somewhere along the path in a snowbank.

On the way back down, we ran into a couple of other hikers, even more inappropriately dressed and less intrepid than we were, who kindly got the shot below of our entire family.See, we actually do all exist in the same place at the same time occasionally!

We did several shorter low-land hikes over the following two days, flat ones around lakes and streams, saw elk, visited visitors' centers, and generally had a wonderful few days of family time before the summer workload began to hit. I think the kids had the most fun on the rocks quite near to our campsite, which Tuck promptly proclaimed "my fire truck!" and let his sister come along for the ride. Here they are, and someone has borrowed his daddy's hat:

June. Opera. Busy. But...

A lot going on in and around the homestead since Mother's Day, and since we're almost to Father's Day, I better catch up. Matt wandered afield to Boston and Chicago for various conferences in the past month, so with one hand for each child that left me no fingers free to type. But now he's home until our grand road odyssey begins in August.

My sister's family came out to visit around Memorial Day, and much fun was had by all, especially the cousins. My eldest nephew walked the Bolder Boulder with his dad and another aunt and uncle, and then most of the family came out for the big finale of the professional race, flyover with skydivers, and Memorial Day ceremony. It was really beautiful.

I ran the race myself earlier that morning, and finished in 50:13. I liked the new course although running it with 54,000 of my closest friends meant that some of the turns were a little more crowded than I would have liked.

CU's opera summer program is still running--our performances are next week, and I go into tech rehearsals on Monday. Things are running a LOT more smoothly in our second year, so far, knock wood. This year's world premieres are excerpts from Kirke Mechem's "Pride and Prejudice" and Herschel Garfein's "Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead." Both literary works I like a lot, which aids me in general enthusiasm for the musical projects. :) The students and faculty are working immensely hard, and our designers are going to make them look good. Very good.

I may eventually post some photos, but would rather post than hunt for the camera cord right now.

Mother's Day race report.

This Mother's Day morning, bright and early, we went out to the Boulder Reservoir so that I could enjoy my mom's day present: a race entry for the Mother's Day Title 9+K (6.1 mi).

Last night was strike for the last show of the BETC season, so I was stumbling a bit this morning since I didn't get in until after 11 last night. Still, after a good cup of Matt's coffee we were dressed and ready to hit the road, and we left early enough to miss the race congestion. Here we are near the entry to the Res, before any of the day's events really got rolling. The event areas behind us were still being set up, and they had a ton of things for little kids to do, from hula hooping to arts and crafts to a jumpy castle, while older kids and moms ran the main race. The race was limited to moms and kids under 18, so there were a lot of dads hanging out while the women stretched and waited in line at the porta-potties. Which they needed twice the number of (hello, it's a women's race!).

And here is my fabulous cheering squad. You will note that the kids are also wearing race tags. A big feature of the Title9K is the RagaMuffin Fun Run for all kids under 8. The theory was that the 2-3 year olds would run in one wave, the 4-5 year olds in the next, and the 6-8 year olds in the last wave. Tuck thus has a tag that indicates he is a "Rumbling Red," and Miranda is a "Yahoo Yellow." They got to pick their own numbers. Tuck chose the same number I was assigned--42, for all you Hitchhiker's Guide fans!--and M chose 10, hands down the most popular number.

Here's Tuck at the starting line; I'm in yellow right behind him, and the first heat was actually all kinds of parents coaxing roughly 100 2-3 year olds to try to run forward in a straight line when someone gave the "go!" sign. Herding cats? Piece of cake. Herding confused toddlers who want to stay with their mommies and get scared out of their small minds by the starting noise? Um, a bit more challenging. Roughly 1/3 of the kids bailed in the three minutes between line-up and the starting horn, deciding they'd rather be with Dad, or in their jogging strollers. Another 1/3 burst into tears at the start of the race.
This included Tucker, as evidenced by the shot at left. The agony of defeat? No, just the agony of a complete lack of clarity about what the hell was going on. Why was everyone shouting and running and yelling and blowing horns and who WERE all these people who were not his mommy? Where was dad? Where was Miranda? Where was justice?

Luckily, justice was only about 50 yards away, and it was a quick scoop up off the pavement and to parental safety. The tears soon gave way to smiles as our little finisher proclaimed,

"I scared. I scared of race. But Mama chased me all done no more running now. Big kid time."

And so the second wave began, with slightly more success as the four and five year old runners seemed to grok the idea of rapid forward motion without their parents holding their hands and scaring the crap out of them with cameras in their faces all the time. The third wave was for kids Miranda's age, but there was a pretty significant problem right at the start: the kids began to run on an unofficial "Go!"

This was a problem because the volunteers in charge of establishing and holding the finish line had not yet taken their places after the second wave. But the runners were off...and none of them had any idea how far 50 yards was supposed to be. So they kept running through the crowd. And running. And got about 300 yards before they were finally all flagged down by the race organizers who finally caught up with them, sort of. This is a great action shot of M on the run, in the black-and-blue shirt in the middle.

My own race went well, thanks, and I finished at a quite respectable pace of about 8:29/ mile, 79th overall out of 1744 women. (Lots of walkers.) A woman in my age group won the race overall; as you might imagine the 35-39 group was just about the largest age group of runners in the field. And this time I beat the fastest 70-year-old and the fastest woman pushing a jogging stroller, although there was a 60-year-old finisher ahead of me. But the real prize was hearing my family cheering me on just before the finish line, and getting big hugs and "Good running!" from them at the end. And Tuck actually behaving himself at 11 a.m. church, and a post-race post-Mass lunch at the Southern Sun...Mother's Day was basically made of awesome this year. I am very blessed.