What ingredients make for a perfect summer night?
Start with a Friday night late in June. Add spacious city sidewalks and a well-designed performance "park" (Downtown Canandaigua Commons) where a mid-size brick soundstage beckons.
Sprinkle said park with several wrought-iron tables and chairs. Pepper profusely with fold-out lawn chairs, occupied by many a grandparent or young parent. Mix in handfuls of small children dancing about in sandals, swinging stuffed animals or sippy cups, distracted by the occasional puppy held in close control on a leash by a friendly face. Place a few youthful couples here and there, perched on low, stone walls framed by green shrubbery.
Add a big band, spreading 20 or so musicians across the stage, and serve up generous portions of instrumental jazz, swing, and "golden" oldies the likes of Duke Ellington and Count Basie. Slice into that song sheet with occasional movie themes like "Shaft" or "Happy Feet." Start tapping your toes, or the arm of your chair. Watch others do the same. Stir in the rare child spinning in circles and jump-dancing to the music, just below center stage, holding the hand of her mother who is swaying her hips and swinging her daughter's arms as mothers do when they delight their children and ignore all thoughts of what the nebulous public might think of their little family moment.
Infuse the warm air with the smells of hot food cooking in nearby restaurants. Sip a swig of bottled water or soda. Let a lemon drop -- yes, the old-fashioned kind! -- melt in your mouth.
Bake under soft summer sun, at a comfortable 78 degrees, for almost two hours.
Serve, shared among community, all in the space of one city block, as slow-moving traffic rolling along the street slows even more to catch the sound of a few notes through open car windows already rolled down to catch the mild breeze.
Ah yes, a perfect summer night in your own hometown.
Enjoy.
Friday, June 29, 2007
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
God Bless "Shrek"
Back at Christmas when I was making my mad dash through O'Hare, hoping and praying to catch the flight home, the adults in my family were hoping and praying for something else: for my 3-year-old niece to discover the motivation to pursue potty-training with a passion.
I had hoped a cheerfully wrapped watercolor paint book (with brush!) might do the trick. Before I left for Colorado, I explained in great detail to my niece just what exciting things were waiting underneath the Strawberry Shortcake wrapping paper for little girls who worked hard at becoming big girls while Aunt Rachel was away. Sometime during the trip, I tried to follow-up with a phone call. But alas, when home again, Rudolph, Santa and the elves were still neatly tucked away, and the little girl who never met wrapping paper she didn't instantly want to tear off -- no matter whether the present was hers or not -- seemed to care less that a Christmas gift remained unopened. I think it was late January or early February before I finally got a call from my niece babbling that she'd made enough progress to open it.
So, my sister and brother-in-law took it to the next level. If Strawberry Shortcake wrapping paper wasn't going to do the trick, perhaps Strawberry Shortcake herself would. This time, the present was unwrapped, and dolly was left behind her plastic-window prison, sitting pretty. Well, let's just say the you-can't-play-with-her-until... experiment didn't play so well. (Sigh.) This from a girl who LOVES Strawberry Shortcake and is getting rather adept at following up every "Why?" question with a "But why can't I?" protest at the explanation. Dolly was still in the box until previews for "Shrek the Third" started appearing on television screens near my niece. Don't ask me how, but apparently her deep-seated adoration of Nemo has transferred to cinema's favorite ogre-with-a-brogue. This, after the "Finding Nemo" DVD played so many times on the portable player strapped inside the minivan, it put the machine permanently out of commission.
Apparently, the great big green ogre was able to motivate her to boldly go where she had not gone before -- I mean, well, you get the idea -- because all my sister and her husband had to do was calmly explain that while they would like to take her, and realized she probably really wanted to see the movie, only big girls and boys get to go to the movie theater with their parents. Well, faster than Puss-in-Boots can morph from sword-flashing master to wide-eyed purr-meister, she was on board with that plan. I am told she who formerly could care less was nearly inconsolable on Day 3 or 4 when she tried to get to the bathroom in time but had an accident. Apparently, too many days without "Shrek" had already gone by. As such, within one week, she was good to go -- to the movies, that is. And Strawberry Shortcake came out of her box as an added bonus.
The more I think about the whole thing, the more amused I am that the key to potty-training, at least for her, was all about the movies. Now there's a girl after my own heart! So God bless Shrek and the Saturday afternoon special. It's nice to know that movies can still have the meaning to change somebody's life.
I had hoped a cheerfully wrapped watercolor paint book (with brush!) might do the trick. Before I left for Colorado, I explained in great detail to my niece just what exciting things were waiting underneath the Strawberry Shortcake wrapping paper for little girls who worked hard at becoming big girls while Aunt Rachel was away. Sometime during the trip, I tried to follow-up with a phone call. But alas, when home again, Rudolph, Santa and the elves were still neatly tucked away, and the little girl who never met wrapping paper she didn't instantly want to tear off -- no matter whether the present was hers or not -- seemed to care less that a Christmas gift remained unopened. I think it was late January or early February before I finally got a call from my niece babbling that she'd made enough progress to open it.
So, my sister and brother-in-law took it to the next level. If Strawberry Shortcake wrapping paper wasn't going to do the trick, perhaps Strawberry Shortcake herself would. This time, the present was unwrapped, and dolly was left behind her plastic-window prison, sitting pretty. Well, let's just say the you-can't-play-with-her-until... experiment didn't play so well. (Sigh.) This from a girl who LOVES Strawberry Shortcake and is getting rather adept at following up every "Why?" question with a "But why can't I?" protest at the explanation. Dolly was still in the box until previews for "Shrek the Third" started appearing on television screens near my niece. Don't ask me how, but apparently her deep-seated adoration of Nemo has transferred to cinema's favorite ogre-with-a-brogue. This, after the "Finding Nemo" DVD played so many times on the portable player strapped inside the minivan, it put the machine permanently out of commission.
Apparently, the great big green ogre was able to motivate her to boldly go where she had not gone before -- I mean, well, you get the idea -- because all my sister and her husband had to do was calmly explain that while they would like to take her, and realized she probably really wanted to see the movie, only big girls and boys get to go to the movie theater with their parents. Well, faster than Puss-in-Boots can morph from sword-flashing master to wide-eyed purr-meister, she was on board with that plan. I am told she who formerly could care less was nearly inconsolable on Day 3 or 4 when she tried to get to the bathroom in time but had an accident. Apparently, too many days without "Shrek" had already gone by. As such, within one week, she was good to go -- to the movies, that is. And Strawberry Shortcake came out of her box as an added bonus.
The more I think about the whole thing, the more amused I am that the key to potty-training, at least for her, was all about the movies. Now there's a girl after my own heart! So God bless Shrek and the Saturday afternoon special. It's nice to know that movies can still have the meaning to change somebody's life.
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