Like revisiting old friends (and in some case, friends with whom I no longer have anything in common), I have recently gone through two volumes of old poems, throwing out what I could not bear to put back in circulation and completely rewriting others. A few were still good enough to be left intact - a very few.
I think it's called "building a platform," this releasing of old writings to pave the way for new ones. So far it's been fun, albeit sometimes poignant to read things written for or about people who were very much alive and now aren't.
I'm writing this from The Villages, where I did Chautauqua last night, combining two of my most popular characters for snowbird season in Florida: Laura Ingalls Wilder and Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings. The Lifelong Learning College actually made money on me, with nearly 200 paying customers. My groupies were there to fill up the first couple of rows and take me to dinner. Many thanks to Beth Willoughby and her "On the Go Girls" for always making me feel like a celebrity. As usual the "cast party" after the show was full of lively conversation and delicious food.
Much appreciation to Dawn Tripp, who has been bringing me to The Villages for years, always with good humor and patience, since I nearly always get lost. The population up here has grown to 85,000. It's bigger than Ocala, fronting on three counties. I can't explain it - all I can say is that people sure seem happy here - not a bad way to sprint into the dying of the light. Might as well, eh? (Nice to see some Canadian friends in the audience last night, too.)
Now waiting in my room for a reporter from Sarasota to call for an interview about the world premiere of "Marjory and Marjorie," coming up at the end of the month. Or is he calling about "America at War," also in Sarasota, next week? I guess I'll find out.
Life is such a mix, of darkness and light, sunshine and rain. The drive up here last night was arduous, through slippery rain and winter traffic which produced a couple of serious accidents and made a two-hour drive last closer to five hours - lots of rehearsal time. I always run lines in the car, glad to no longer get strange looks from other drivers. I just put my earpiece on and they think I'm talking on the phone.
I've enjoyed having my hair a little longer, especially when I was in Omaha recently for the planning of the Free Land Chautauqua, in celebration of the 150th anniversary of Homestead National Monument. But now it's make way for Gertrude Stein and people calling me "sir" at the checkout. I must remember to pack the dangling earrings.
I think it's called "building a platform," this releasing of old writings to pave the way for new ones. So far it's been fun, albeit sometimes poignant to read things written for or about people who were very much alive and now aren't.
I'm writing this from The Villages, where I did Chautauqua last night, combining two of my most popular characters for snowbird season in Florida: Laura Ingalls Wilder and Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings. The Lifelong Learning College actually made money on me, with nearly 200 paying customers. My groupies were there to fill up the first couple of rows and take me to dinner. Many thanks to Beth Willoughby and her "On the Go Girls" for always making me feel like a celebrity. As usual the "cast party" after the show was full of lively conversation and delicious food.
Much appreciation to Dawn Tripp, who has been bringing me to The Villages for years, always with good humor and patience, since I nearly always get lost. The population up here has grown to 85,000. It's bigger than Ocala, fronting on three counties. I can't explain it - all I can say is that people sure seem happy here - not a bad way to sprint into the dying of the light. Might as well, eh? (Nice to see some Canadian friends in the audience last night, too.)
Now waiting in my room for a reporter from Sarasota to call for an interview about the world premiere of "Marjory and Marjorie," coming up at the end of the month. Or is he calling about "America at War," also in Sarasota, next week? I guess I'll find out.
Life is such a mix, of darkness and light, sunshine and rain. The drive up here last night was arduous, through slippery rain and winter traffic which produced a couple of serious accidents and made a two-hour drive last closer to five hours - lots of rehearsal time. I always run lines in the car, glad to no longer get strange looks from other drivers. I just put my earpiece on and they think I'm talking on the phone.
I've enjoyed having my hair a little longer, especially when I was in Omaha recently for the planning of the Free Land Chautauqua, in celebration of the 150th anniversary of Homestead National Monument. But now it's make way for Gertrude Stein and people calling me "sir" at the checkout. I must remember to pack the dangling earrings.
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