Professional theatre production in my bedroom…really

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Jane Butler, Jane Paffenbarger Butler, joy, theatre

My daughter was in her bedroom, my husband in his office, and I in my bedroom, when we made our individual calls and were connected to a robot who managed our individual hour-long theatre experiences with another theatre patron. It seems correct to refer to this event as avant garde since it was off the charts as far as any theatre performance I’ve even been to. Providing excitement in a safe environment, this production called “A Phone Call” offered theatre and the requisite intrigue.

It was not a “get to know you” call, and it was not a conversation. It was a tennis match of questions asked and answered alternately between each of us and our partners. I learned a bit about what another random theatre-attending human is like. We had to describe what we were sitting on. I had to say what year I was born and in turn she was asked if she was alive at that time. She had to describe a photo of herself as a child. I had to hum a song I knew. She had to say what was missing from her life. And then to recite something from memory, anything at all. In my daughter’s case this ended up being the Preamble to the Constitution which she’d been required to learn in middle school. I was asked if I had any tattoos, and when I said “no” I was asked why not.

It’s difficult to do this experience justice here, but as a theatre patron I liked the creative effort that went into devising questions that by virtue of the need to provide answers, skewed one’s understanding of the other person.

It all seemed to revolve around the idea that it takes more than just words to know someone. The answers to questions elicited intrigue as we each got a fleeting peek into someone else’s world. When asked what we’d remember most about the other person I said it would be how my partner got choked up when asked to describe something no longer with her. She’d remember the scene I described of my father hard at work at a desk late at night.

It was fascinating and ingenious and thought-provoking and emotional. It could trick someone uncomfortable with revealing themself or looking inward into doing just that.

Trying not to expect too much

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art, birthday, chocolate, cocktails, fun, Jane Butler, Jane Paffenbarger Butler, love, movies, skating

You cannot will yourself to have a happy birthday, especially if there’s a pandemic limiting your life. Typically my husband and I would hop a train to NYC and see a Broadway show, then walk around town and get some great dinner before heading back home.

This year was different, and somehow, even better than all that. My husband prepared a gorgeous breakfast of eggs Benedict, then entertained me by using a silly gif that substituted my face for Dolly Parton’s or Jack Sparrow’s. For lunch we a fish fry delivered to our car from the local fish market, then took a dear walk around our county seat where we ate Eclat chocolates and then Dia Doce cupcakes. We had to hurry home, though, for the best part of the day.

It was the Frick Museum’s Friday at 5:00pm Cocktails with a Curator via live stream. My husband made the complimentary cocktail for the piece of art the curator had selected to discuss, and then we set ourselves outside in the January air on our front porch to enjoy it all. There we sat on fluffy blankets and sipped our drinks while we learned about Boucher’s “Four Seasons.” This has become our mandatory start to the weekend. But besides relaxing with a cocktail, the study of art signals a departure from the week’s work to a focus on the spirit and matters of culture.

To make this outdoor experience even more lovely, a young lady stopped by, a neighbor home from virtual college, and talked to us on the porch for twenty minutes or more, an in-person surprise that further bolstered my happy day. And, as if that were not enough, my daughter and husband agreed to take the hour-long drive to the dairybar of my choice at 6:30pm, to finish off my day with a hot fudge sundae.

The rest of the weekend was just as thrilling. We went ice skating in center city Philadelphia, played hilarious games with my sons and daughter-in-law via zoom, then met up with a friend, live, for a two-hour walk around a cute little town where we shared bonbons and stories. I even indulged in a midday movie via zoom with cannolis which my son arranged to have delivered, to wrap things up. Friends dropped by with gifts, and texts and phone calls came in.

A trip to NYC is wonderful, but this year I was reminded how these simple acts of love, the smaller, sweeter experiences, and my relationships with others renew my spirit and allow me to stop for a moment to appreciate all that I have in the world right now.

Almost like normal

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Christmas, friends, Jane Butler, Jane Paffenbarger Butler, joy, mental health

This almost felt normal! The lively annual wreathing party was scaled down to just three of us and outside, despite the cold!

Usually there is a luncheon, lots of women, scones and pie and tea to go around. And we make a mess inside the house on the farmtable in the kitchen.

This time it was all outside, on the porch, but no less wonderful for carrying on the tradition, making a beautiful holiday decoration, and spending time with friends. In person.

The pandemic continues to show us that it is not what you have but who you have, that matters.

Japanese fans

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Jane Butler, Jane Paffenbarger Butler, joy, mental health, parents

In anticipation of a cold winter, we cleaned out the attic to make room for a long overdue upgrade to our insulation. Over the years I’d thrown a lot of stuff up there including kid’s toys and clothes, interesting looking housewares and furniture from my various deceased relatives troves, and sentimental junk I couldn’t figure out what to do with. Now, I am discovering such interesting objects as these Japanese fans including one that came wrapped in a sheath complete with a ribbon strap. These were probably either purchases or gifts to my grandmother during her many trips to Japan. There’s a lovely Japanese tea set, a silk kimono, and ornamental Geisha fans I’m hanging on to also.

There was a lot up there in the attic we didn’t want, but hidden among the cobwebs I found these delights.

Cotton dresses

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being yourself, change, Jane Butler, Jane Paffenbarger Butler, joy, mother, parents

Outfitting your daughters in cotton dresses that must be ironed after washing, to go fishing, is by today’s standards a bit crazy. Fabrics now are magically suited for outdoor living. But my mother had five kids, baskets of dirty laundry and a farm lifestyle that included such tasks.

This picture reminds me of all that my mother did to support our family. I’d claim that she did this tirelessly, but really, she was exhausted. She cooked three meals a day for seven people and managed the household in our big Victorian place for decades, with only minimal help from the rest of us. Yes, I set the table regularly, and swept the three sets of steps in the house every Saturday, but otherwise I was off the hook.  For a farmgirl, I did not have many chores.

It’s easy to forget what our mothers did to get us to where we are today, but this photo reminds always me.

Lucky stars

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being yourself, higher power, Jane Paffenbarger Butler, joy, nature

What great good luck do I have that I may go to the state park, late, and lay down in the bed of the truck to watch the Perseids meteor shower? We had pillows and warm breezes and barely any light in our eyes, and so the stars came into focus as we settled ourselves in.

Every August, when our grown daughter inspires us to step into the dark late at night, it reminds me of walking out to the end of the lane in Arden on a starry evening and happening upon a meteor shower. Back then we were just kids killing time in a lonely place, steeped in nature, free to wander. The end of the lane promised a show as my older sister, who knew the constellations, pointed with authority upwards into our own personal sky. Sometimes while debating which particular stars she wanted me to see, we’d be charmed by a spark that painted a fleeting arc across the scene.  Before you knew it we spotted another and then several more. It made it clear that the world is large and we are just specks. Shooting stars, any stars, are just part of the landscape. Yet, at the same time they are so special that I imagined them bestowing us with sparkling good luck.

And they did. Since I left Arden, a place that I loved, my life has only improved, no doubt aided by the power bestowed on me by the energy inherent in that happenstance dust.

Unlike in Arden though, this week our trip to the state park is deliberate and we are impatient as we wait and hope for the next shooting star, aware now that meteor showers are predictable. We were not disappointed when all three of us saw a fireball cross the sky in a long screaming streak that seemed to never end. 

Some kind of good luck is on the way, I think to myself.

Friendship isn’t easy on a good day

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being yourself, change, dreams coming true, express feelings, fear, forgiveness, friends, friendship, inspire, Jane Butler, Jane Paffenbarger Butler, listening, passion, relationship, teacher, trust, words, writing

 

5 Things I Want to Tell My White Friends

Having close contact with young people, like my three grown children, has helped me take steps to educate myself about systemic racism in America. With their current interest in the injustices around us, I have been inspired to also learn. Robin DeAngelo’s White Fragility taught me much, opening my eyes to issues that have been right in front of me my entire life but to which I have been blind. Movies like Selma, Fruitvale Station, Do the Right Thing, I’m Not Your Negro, Who’s Streets, 13th, and Malcolm X, gripped me and illustrated themes that drive home what I have learned recently by listening better.

I am trying to be part of the solution rather than part of the problem and so I welcome articles like this one above that focuses on cross-racial friendship. It’s a heartfelt and generous letter from author, Christine Pride, to her white friends.

BOOK TRAILER: You’ll Get Over It, Jane Ellen

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being yourself, dreams coming true, express feelings, friendship, goals, Jane Butler, Jane Paffenbarger Butler, joy, video book trailer, writing

After months of working on a book trailer for my memoir, You’ll Get Over It, Jane Ellen, my team of three high school students and I, finished the project. We previewed it in May at a discussion group of my readers that a fellow writer’s club member had already organized.

Those in attendance gave overall positive reviews to our visuals but pointed out issues with tone, pace and messaging. It was a “back-to-the-drawing-board” moment which had me loading more furniture into the truck and heading back into the woods with fresh ideas a few days later. What we have ended up with is vastly different from our earlier version yet strikingly similar as well.

You might wonder, like I did, why a discussion group would gather for an unpublished manuscript and book trailer viewing. The lively, heartfelt #MeToo debate that unfolded would not have been on my radar ahead of time since my story is primarily about isolation and loneliness, but I get it and I loved it. Many thanks to all who were there and all who have helped make this manuscript and this trailer satisfying representations of a story I have been eager to tell.

My book trailer is on the way – almost done!

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being yourself, book trailer, dreams coming true, Jane Butler, Jane Paffenbarger Butler, joy, play, words, writing

 

This is my Author’s Team, three high school students, myself and my not-yet-putrid Putrid Doll.

Just in time, back in February our team went out into the creek to film these beautiful scenes. Since then we have worked remotely to put together the two-minute trailer featuring a tea party on a rock in the middle of this raging creek. It hopefully will entice the viewer to want to read You’ll Get Over It, Jane Ellen. A discussion group organized by readers of the manuscript will get to preview our masterpiece this Thursday.

Sisters

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being yourself, change, dreams coming true, express feelings, forgiveness, friends, friendship, inspire, Jane Butler, Jane Paffenbarger Butler, joy, love, play, relationship, security, trust

 

To all my acquired sisters (and brothers) out there: I love you and appreciate all that you bring to my life!

But my background is unusual, and a little fraught, and so the idea of having carried a sister with me from that difficult past into today, to help interpret what was and what is now, would be terribly sweet.

A scene like this picture above always makes me take pause. It is two sisters. Before the pandemic, I used to see them often and just like this, eagerly engaging in whatever it is they have to share, obviously friends. They report, lest I be confused, that as sisters things are not categorically smooth all the time.

I do love romanticizing the idea of two women who have know each other their whole lives. Partners in life who have seen it all. A trusted friend who knows what others do not and can engage in the lifted eyebrow communication reserved for so few in our lives.

My own sisters and I took different paths, primarily characterized by flight. One ran away physically, and the other, although she did move a thousand miles from home, fled by engaging with everyone through that effective distancer, anger. I haven’t gone as far away on the map, but my world is profoundly different than the one I shared once with them.

I’ve always thought it would be fun to have a sister. But it’s kind of too late now. One is gone at the hands of breast cancer and the other has herself hidden far away. There was so much threat in our lives we learned not to trust anyone, even each other. Real communication, like sharing our feelings about anything as it seems these two sisters above have been doing for a lifetime, that’s off the table.

Too bad, too. I was always up for it.