Bridging the Gap Between Me and View

Dear Canandaigua City Officials and/or DPW crew and/or contractors:
I just have to tell you that the finished bridge at the up-and-coming Lagoon Park is my new favorite late-night, summer hang-out. I stumbled across that first completed bridge two nights ago before the gravel walkway up to it was, well, completed. Practically ruined a perfectly good pair of hot pink espadrilles doing it too, what with all the mud from the rains and those mid-sized boulders strewn about on the Lakeshore Drive “entrance.”
Oh, but that pink, coral and yellow sunset luring me was totally worth it.
When I finally stumbled up onto the bridge – and I do mean up, the boulders were about 6-7 inches below the walkway – and made my way across to the other side, it hit me. “Oh, the walkway’s only finished on the Wegmans side!”
That bridge is a piece of work, lemme tell ya. A good one. Solid, sturdy, and arched just so. It's practically perfect. Even though standing straight up on my espadrilles (which probably add what--2 ½ inches?) only permitted me to just barely peer over the edge of the railing. Turns out the eye-level ledge worked okay for a camera prop – that would be my 35mm camera, which I refuse to abandon yet for the digital age – and I can’t wait to see how my photos of the sunset turned out.
Anyway, I popped over there again tonight and WhaddyaknowJoe, but the rest of the gravel walkway was done on the Lakeshore side and finally flush with the bridge! Whoo-hoo! And tonight I didn’t have to share it with a fisherman either. Plus, I figured out that one of the bottom rails is a lot thicker and wider than the rest, perfect for scooting up on to lean out over the ledge and REALLY take in the view. The water was so clear beneath, I could see the piece of silver corner pipe left behind from whatever the last lagoon project must have been. (Don’t worry, it’s kinda covered up by some dark reeds.)
I love walking. I love Canandaigua Lake. I’ve loved the new-and-improved Kershaw paths (and those splendid, iron swings!) and now your bridges are just the icing on the cake. I can’t wait till all of them are finished, but for now at least, let’s just keep the one our little secret, ok?
Thanks for the hard work,
~ Rachel

Musings on some of Life's Milestones

It's been a whale of a month for me as a reporter, and I can't think of another time in my life when I have had so many extremes or milestones in the circle of life compressed into such a short time frame.
First, my second niece was born on June 8, right in the midst of one of the most stressful, exhausting stretches of in-depth reporting I have ever been immersed in. I cannot emphasize enough what a blessed escape it was to be virtually kicked out of the office here by my executive editor and sent to Pennsylvania with most of my family to meet Lily Denae. It was an even bigger kick to observe how Lily's big sister, Skylar, was handling the new addition to the family.
What is it about playing and cuddling with small children that completely refreshes you and reminds you there is so much more to life than work, stress, and the struggle for personal or professional 'definition?' I should have learned the lesson in March, back when I crashed at my sister's after a nonstop week-plus of reporting on Pres. Bush's visit here. Skylar could have cared less about all that; she just wanted a dancing partner at 7 a.m. when she was up and at 'em. Or an aunt to take walks with. Or someone to read her "Beauty and the Beast" no less than 7 times at a sitting.
That was Weekend One. It was then followed by the wedding of a friend June 17 in Rochester. As has happened at countless weddings before, I took photos. Hundreds. Before. During. And After the ceremony. Images frozen in my mind, and I confidently hope, on film: the flower girl resting her head upon her father's bent knee, as he was flanked behind by his sister and the maid of honor, peering expectantly through a door; the bride, my gifted, charming, Russian friend finally displaying her spunky side underneath a shade tree; the couple's first dance, arms encircling and foreheads touching.
Then came Weekend Three, this past weekend, during which I covered two graduation ceremonies Friday and Saturday, only to head out immediately after filing copy on the second one to a fatal accident. Talk about extremes: from glittering confetti, exuberant smiles or cheers, from grand gestures, special recognitions and speeches crafted to Communicate Something Important, to standing along a country road where flashing red lights and stoic authorities stood witness to a family's tragedy, while the same warm wind that fought against the yellow police tape surrounding the crash site toyed with the helium "Class of 2006" balloons about 150 yards down the road. While party-goers likely reveled unaware, I watched a son nearly fold over at word of his father's death from police, wishing my car with its obtrusive "PRESS" sign showing through the windshield wasn't so close to where the tiny knot of men tried to console him, hoping I was standing far enough away to not only be respectful, but — please, please — invisible. Mercifully — for his sake, I am sure — the son came no closer.
And not long after, I was in front of the computer, forced to figure out how to communicate something Truly Important.
Now it's Monday and word just came of another life cut short too soon, a student who had graduated the day before he died. Again the reporter is charged to write.
Birth. Marriage. Graduation. Death.
Milestones all and in shockingly rapid succession ... at least for me.
Those days — maybe every day, actually — you can't even try to sum up life and it's a struggle to sum up even part of it.
Is that why we have no option but to simply live it?

If a Blog had a Post Script ...

The line of the night (er, afternoon) at the "Stars of Tomorrow" awards wasn't delivered by any of the participating local TV/radio/biz celebs. Instead, it came right after Division A's Rush-Henrietta High School had just left the stage following a song-and-dance number from "CATS," which had been picking up a slew of awards. (Incidentally, "CATS" was named Outstanding Musical in Division A).
A student from Romulus, picking up a Division C award for best featured ensemble with a fellow "Sea Bee" from "South Pacific", sneezed, then apologized with "I'm allergic to cats."
The scattered snickers indicated he'd landed a mild blow in what is — let's be honest here — a competition among schools for recognition from theater professionals. (Clearly, some in the audience were agreeing with Mr. I-represent-Romulus.)
Whether you agree with a bit of teasing or not, the SOTs are similar to the sectional playoffs we have for sports, and participants — and supporters— do get passionate about them.

"Star" this

On June 3, I caught the Eighth Annual "Stars of Tomorrow" awards ceremony at Rochester's Auditorium Theatre. (You can find the full article and the complete list of winners elsewhere on this new web site.) Those kids were pumped up from the cheers that echoed around the hall.
But truly, you have to love a show where some of the winners delivered tearful thanks, and several received that all-familiar musical cue that their time at the microphone had run out. They even had trophy presenters, four students dressed up in tuxes or evening gowns, to hand the glass prizes out and escort winners off the stage.
Personally, I love seeing the student-performers getting attention for succeeding at drama, music and dance, as much as student-athletes get for succeeding at sports. In fact, I might like it a little bit more. I was one of those not-all-that-great-at-sports-but-better-creatively students once myself, and I only wish SOT had been around when I was in high school.
But other unsung heroes get recognition through SOT too, and in particular, I wanted to send congratulations to the production crew of Cananaigua Academy's "The Music Man," which took home its lone SOT prize in that category this year.
Now, in recent years, CA has cleaned up in Division A, winning the marquee prize, for Outstanding Musical Production, four years in a row. Judges and other schools may have felt it was time for another district to be recognized. But I'm glad they gave CA the behind-the-scenes nod, because the job those students had this year was bigger than most.
To start with, the stage crew had to juggle something like 11 scene changes in the first act and seven in the second. The scenes were comprised of some 20 wheeled sets or backdrops, plus several adjoining backdrops or set pieces kids would "fly in" on rigging above the stage. But just before the show's two-week run started, President George W. Bush decided to visit CA and the White House advance team and Secret Service members descended en masse.
Technical director Gordon Estey supervises CA's stage crew and told me Secret Service men were literally walking across the stage examining walls and floors, etc. right as students held dress rehearsals.
Now the few student stage managers I have known from my own brief theatrical experience have been organized folks that live and die by checklists and can figure out in 10 seconds or less if a set piece or prop is not in its proper place. The ones I knew did the freaking out — and I mean that affectionately — so the actors wouldn't have to. I can only imagine how hard it is to bite one's tongue when you want to insist to a fully-armed man (or woman) "Please don't TOUCH that!"
Thankfully, the CA stage crew, Estey, and all the maintenance staff were spared from moving every prop and set piece out of the auditorium and back halls when the Bush team opted to hold the town hall meeting in the gym. But the federal back-and-forth must have required the patience of Job.
I learned this year the SOT judges specializing in behind-the-scenes analysis spend one act backstage watching student crews do their work in the near-dark. Now, whether any of those judges encountered members of the Secret Service milling about as the show went on, I don't know, and whether the judges may have taken such a logistical challenge into account, I don't know either. But it's hard to miss burly men in expensive suits with clear, curled cords running from behind their ear and disappearing into their collars.
(Note: I did hear the cast won props from the advance team and Secret Service for staging a show that apparently rivaled others they've seen in their nationwide travels.)
I'd like to imagine CA's crew won their SOT prize not only for succeeding at their task, but succeeding under circumstances a bit more trying than the typical high school show.
Hats off to them, and to all the other local winners, which in Messenger-territory includes Midlakes, Marcus Whitman and Red Jacket high schools.
And speaking of hats, maybe that's a good topic for the next installment.

Welcome to the ReD Zone!

They asked me for a description of what I would write about on this blog and all I could come up with was this:

"Random ramblings on the performing arts, pop culture, hot-button controversies, good books, ice cream, friends, life and the occasional feature film. All with the poetry of passionate discussion
thanks to the occasional guest blogger and readers."

I'm serious about guest appearances. If someone out there has a topic that could fall under the description above and you're just so passionate about it you could write a full page, email me via this web site and I'll be in touch. You could find yourself showcasing your opinion underneath the photo of a bespectacled brunette (though I'm informed by our webmeister that additional photos can adorn the not-exactly-hallowed-“halls" here.)

I'm also serious about the "random" and the "ramblings." I'm a stream-of-consciousness writer, so we could cover all sorts of ground here.

Speaking of serious, I confess a serious addiction to ice cream, particularly if it's the homemade ice cream served at Bloomfield's Shark's Custard and Candy shop. If you've never been, it's worth the drive. I've been a faithful fan of the sweet stuff since it was just "Custard and Candy" back in the day. But I'll be sure to go on and on
about that in another posting. For now, back to business:

Monday's cartoon on the Messenger's edit pages spoofed our celebrity-obsessed culture, suggesting that  Brangelina's baby girl got bigger headlines than the latest international disaster. I confess, I haven't read the wires yet to see what weird name the poor child has been christened with, but it's sure to rival ones like Apple Martin, Suri Cruise, Tu Morrow, Fifi-Trixibelle Geldof, or Zowie Bowie. (Oops, wait a minute: “Shiloh Nouvel“ is not the weirdest celeb baby name known to man. That honor most likely goes to Tiger Lily Heavenly Hiraani, whose parents, Michael Hutchence and Paula Yates, were clearly overcome by the green concoction Captain Hook whipped up to sedate Wendy and the Lost Boys at the showing of “Peter Pan“ the couple must have attended just before the birth. )

Personally, the only baby name I'm currently crazy about is that of my second niece, Lily Denae, who will make her debut into the world sometime this week. But that too, is another blog entry for another day.

For now, I'll sign off with a kudos to the fellow bloggers also debuting on this brand-new web site, and a challenge to all the readers we hope will soon be swarming over these e-pages for news and infotainment: We're not going to stop writing, so please, don't stop reading.

(See you soon back here in the ReD Zone!)