The Weekend in Foolish Attention

Bits and bytes of the week

BOOKENDING. I like to see my life in chapters of a book and this season in the park provided an almost pre-planned beginning and ending. The first event of the summer was GospelFest and it rained consistently from 7:00 a.m. til 9:00 p.m. The final event of the season was the Old Town School of Folk Music’s Carnivale and it rained from 7:00 a.m. til 6:00 p.m. Start things like drowning cats, end it the same way. Feels ordained, yes?

At the end, things were far more sweet than bitter. As I’ve written before, this summer was an expression of my optimism coming back in full force and the results at the close were notable. I was ‘officially’ welcomed back to Chicago by Peter Sagal onstage, I had the absolute privilege to hire, work alongside, and become bosom buddies with Gisela Marx, and I was able to put some theories about events into practice to spectacular effect.

The best feeling in the world, as far as I am concerned, is gratitude. I’m so ridiculously grateful for my family, for the folks here in the park, for my friends here in Chicago and beyond. As in anything, paying back the largesse and love is my highest priority.

THE NEXUS OF ALL GOOD THINGS. Once in a while (and it’s been a good long time since I’ve had this) a number of moments come together all at once and form a sort of nexus or Venn diagram of fucking awesome, rock and roll sort of energy. Monday was one of those and Tuesday locked it in.

Gisela and I closed out the Millennium Park summer. I had a great third interview for the job I really wanted. I kissed a beautiful woman for the first time in two years and I didn’t suck at it, and we rebooted a Live Lit show dormant since COVID to great success. Really a spectacular day. Then Tuesday, as I was driving to my folks’ house in Wichita to celebrate their birthdays and get a break from the city, I was offered the job I wanted for more money than I expected.

Starting in October, I’ll be the Front of House Manager for the Auditorium Theatre, a historic landmark in Chicago, 135 years old, 4,000 seats, and I get to bring Gisela along with me because you just don’t break up the 1994 Bulls. Super jacked. It’s work I’m good at, in downtown Chicago, in the center of a ton of the kind of activity that I love.

I had a pretty rough patch there for a while but things are back on track.

My new office.

MOOOBIES! There is no rest for the wicked and doubly so for me. Given the good news, I’ll get a week off and then leap into both the new gig and the Chicago International Film Festival which is eleven days of nonstop movies. Word has it there will be plenty of movie stars in attendance and lots of people catching flicks. I’m most excited to be running the house on the night Robert Zemeckis is onstage talking about his new film Here.

BIRTHDAYS! I love hanging out with my family.

MOM: Are ready to do something you’ve never done before?

DAD: Sure.

MOM kisses him.

MOM: You just kissed a 75-year old woman!

DAD: You look 35 to me… but I’m blind in one eye.

And Scene!

Sitting out in the back yard being grilled by my amazing and protective sister as we go through the horror of me dating a younger woman (“OK, Woody Allen!”) and assuring them I’m not going down a familiar rabbit hole that ends with my heart being stomped on. We ended that conversation with the best advise she’s ever given me when it comes to romance as it pertains to me—wear a helmet.

I love the stories—we’re an entire family of storytellers—and hearing about her school adventures, mom’s trajectory into blowing the minds of younger women in her Pilates as she, at 75, can elevate herself on the straps of those core things, talking to my dad on the front porch about jobs he had and a guy he knew who dated a woman for twenty years without marrying her (“It takes all kinds and every relationship is different. I got lucky with your mom, though.”).

On her birthday, mom decides I must have a suit for the Auditorium and we head to the mall. I’m suddenly fifteen years old as she looks and suggests, even consulting with Dick (her name for ChatGPT) about what the Front of House Manager wears. It is a damn nice suit and no one argues with my mom on her birthday. I’ll wear it for the big shows with a pair of motorcycle boots. She’s just thrilled I have a job that feels secure. She worries I’ll end up a homeless guy, eventually joining the circus, and sleeping under a viaduct. If it comes to that, at least I’ll have a really nice suit to keep me warm.

ROADTRIPPING. I cannot recommend highly enough the long drive across the American MidWest, a solo trip in a tin can hurtling forward at speeds humans weren’t meant for, listening to music and getting lost in your thoughts for hours. Me? I have conversations, out loud with myself, about what’s going on in my head, where I’m heading, planning out the next few months, and reflecting on lessons recently learned.

ME: So, what did you learn this summer in the park?

ALSO ME: Oh, lots of stuff. I think I’ve refined my approach to running the house, the whole ‘Be Helpful’ philosophy. It’s good because it’s crossed over into a general policy in life. Be helpful as much as humanly possible without allowing every drowning cat to pull me under.

ME: What is different from 2018 when you did the same gig but headed out to Vegas?

STILL ME: I think the job in 2018 was a job I took because I needed a job and was reeling a bit from being a bit of a Z-Grade celebrity due to a decade of public radio and the Moth. I was a little bitter and had a wife who wanted out of Chicago. This time, I jumped into the park determined to make the most of every day and, in approaching the end of the contract, realizing that A. I’m really good at this sort of work and B. this work is flat out FUN. At this point in my life, if it ain’t fun on some level, best to live under a viaduct with a new suit.

ME: Are you concerned about this woman you’ve just met?

ME, AGAIN: A little. Not much. I like her. She likes me. Both of us are too busy to Sid and Nancy this thing so, as Gisela says, have fun in the moment. After seven and a half years of Dana telling me how deficient I was whenever she had the opportunity, it’s nice to smooch a woman who likes me and that, my friend, is enough.

At one point A. texts me about a metal band she’s discovered. Do I know them? I do and boot up my playlist and head bang in a Prius for an hour. Then on to a podcast about the election then chill to some T. Monk.

The Kansas trips have become an essential way to re-root with my family on the regular and steal some time to do some deep thinking. Phenomenal.

A WEEK OFF AND MORE. Due to the new gig, I get to take this coming week off. Like off. Brilliant.

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That’s my week, fellow travelers! It’s been killer so far so let’s shoot for the moon and continue the streak, yeah?