One of my all time favorite things to do in Tucson is to attend a Gaslight Theatre production. Every November my family flies out to celebrate my mother's birthday. For us it's a tradition to to go see a melodrama where the audience participates enthusiastically, cheering and clapping when the good guys enter and then booing the villains who behave like Snidely Whiplash on steroids.
The part I enjoy most is when the actors suddenly begin to improvise, throwing off their well-rehearsed team-mates. They deliberately try to make the other actor's lose their lines, crack them up and surprise them with their silly unexpected comments or movement on the stage. The audience roars with laughter and without missing a beat the surprised actor rallies with outrageous come-backs.
But, before the fun begins, the Gaslight has a band that plays oldies and encourages the audience to sing-a-long. I never sing on-key. It's just the gene I never got, so I tend to mouth the words to spare the family with my vocals. The wait-staff is busy filling round checkered tables with big baskets of popcorn and taking orders for those who need more sustenance. My family and I always have their pizza which is dish that is always delish.
The following is a story I wrote on my blog: tatteletalesfromabroad during one of our traditional birthday celebrations for my mother at, of course, The Gaslight Theatre. Before the story begins, I must tell you that her birthdays are like the proverbial Polish Wedding. We celebrate my fab mom for an entire week of fun activities and food. And without further ado...
When we finished gambling at Casino del Sol, my family returned to my mother’s house, probably for more snacks, while I dashed off to teach. I wondered how I would be able to make it on time to The Gaslight Theatre for the seven o’clock show because I wasn’t finished with work until six thirty and was more than thirty minutes away from the theatre.
See, this is the reason why I need a Porsche 911 Turbo. It’s not because the car is drop-dead gorgeous, mind you, but for emergencies like getting from point A to point B on time. Not buying that line of goods are you? Okay, well, I’d settle for a Ferrari because of my love of all things Italian, but do or die, I would get to Part 2 of the festivities on time to celebrate Mom’s birthday at Gaslight without the aid of a race car.
I had been running on fumes all day as I raced from the casino, to home, to work and then flying directly to the theatre. I was Mario Andretti on steroids.
In my head, I heard the Theme to Barber of Seville, which made my heart pump faster and made me drive like I was in the Indy 500 to get a ticket at the Will Call window. If traffic wasn’t too bad, I’d have about 1.2 minutes to spare before lights down-and on with the show.
Eureka! I made it on time and was ushered up to the balcony where I greeted my family~ the party animals. I felt like I had been shot up with adrenaline. Celebrating Mom’s 90th birthday was like a Polish wedding; it began with her Surprise Party and the family arrival on day one then more surprises with my giggling niece’s surprise visit, food in abundance including: Richie bringing 40 lbs. of Danish from L.A., to Bob bringing homemade cookies and zucchini bread, gambling at the Casino and the icing on the cake ~ The Gaslight Theatre: a musical melodrama where every character is Over-the-Top; the villain gets booed by the audience and the good guys and gals always get cheered. Full audience participation is not only welcomed, but expected. And with the cast of characters in my family-not exactly the shy and quiet type, we would be raising our voices to a feverish pitch.
All of this by day two. Not too bad for a family that isn’t Polish.
Seating is really tight at the Gaslight Theatre. Even an anorexic would find it difficult to squeeze between little round tables big enough for only a Barbie sans Ken. The only thing missing was space in the darling theatre. But, cozy and charming it definitely is.
Somehow as I was maneuvering between the table and two seats, I had to squish my ever-so-girlie hips to get half a thigh on my chair and nearly flopped onto the guy to my left. I seriously doubt Houdini could have contorted his body with as much <ahem>grace as I did.
Taking pity on me he said, “Can I help you?”
“Only if you’re a psychiatrist,” I joked, giddy from all the excitement that lead up to the evening.
The stranger was caught off guard for a minute and then roared with laughter.
When I was finally seated, he whispered to me. “One time I asked a friend, “How are you?” And he said…”What do you mean by that!”
I giggled non-stop. “How funny! I’ll have to use that line with my friends some time.”
“I was being serious.”
Oops! Here I thought we were doing a George and Gracie routine.
“My friend has been in therapy for twenty years and is suspicious of every question, even, “How are you?”
I howled again. It just tickled my funny bone. You know when you’re slap-happy, everything sets you off, cracks you up and you just can’t stop laughing? That was me all night long.
“How are you?”
“What’s it to you?!”
So much for politeness.
We ordered a large pizza, sipped cold beer, nibbled on the endless baskets of popcorn on the tiny table and then the show began. It was: Scrooge, their Holiday Show and hilariously funny.
My brother Bobby is an easy laugh. I laugh just hearing him laugh. And laugh he did all night long, making my mother, Rich, Erika and I giddy with laughter for the entire show until tears ran down our cheeks.
If Bobby ever comes out of retirement, he could be hired as a shill for any show that needs authentic sounding belly laughs that are robust and infectious. He cracks up easily and I love to hear him go from a giggle to a big burst of laughter. He’d make a killing if he had an agent. If Hollywood only knew!
The show was a rootin', tootin', hootin', riot! The set designers out-did themselves, and so did the cast members who sneakily improvised off the script to throw his fellow actor off balance with the goal of messing him up, by cracking him up, if possible. The band set off to the side was fantastic. Linda Ackerman played stride piano mixed with honky tonk and suspenseful music throughout the melodrama, revving up both the actors and the audience. Oh! What a Night!
At the end of the evening, the announcer called out the names of the birthday celebrants who were supposed to raise their hand so that a waiter could bring them a complimentary ice cream cone.
“Mary Jones from Phoenix…where’s Mary? She’s seven years old today!”
Cheers.
“Matt Thompson from Chicago. Matt’s thirty-five.”
More cheers.
This went on for awhile.
“Betty Green from Iowa! Where’s Betty? Give a round of applause. Betty is eighty years old!”
She stood up and waved, sporting a proud smile. Everyone clapped.
Eighty, I thought. Big deal, Betty, my mother’s got you beat by ten years! Sit down!
And then
the Kasha Queen,
Queen of Razzle Dazzle,
The Jazzy Lady who is Naughty But Oh-So Nice
was called:
“Helene Goldman from Tucson, AZ. Tonight is Helene’s 90th birthday, Folks! Give it up for Helene!”
People in the audience gave her a standing “O” and I wolf-whistled in my girlie outfit like I was a truck driver from the Bronx. Even the guy next to me was stunned to hear a whistle loud enough to summons all the dogs in the US to come running. I must admit it was deafening. A killer whistle that was taught to me by Rich, to execute at football games or momentous occasions like Mom’s 90th…although I don’t think when he taught me the piercing whistle he had this in mind…but Loud and Proud I was as I watched Mom glow from happiness and probably the ice cream cone, too!
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The Star of the Show: Helene Goldman and her cast of characters:
Rich, Heidi Goldman, Bobby and Erika |
