Poor Erato, Mercilessly Used and Abused
Neil Simon is dense. Pinter is dense. Ibsen is dense. In different ways. Farce, absurdism, and drama. All genres I like. They stay very much in their genre's, though not completely. Simon, like Ayckbourn stands out because their characters often have the depth you'd expect in drama. Pinter has a lot of humor and character definition, Ibsen has lots of humor and absurdity. It's part of what makes them stand out.
As I think on it, I wonder if that is what has caused Shakespeare to leap over the boundaries of time, culture, and language. He blends more than most contemporary playwrights. Williams seems close to that class at times, as does Chekhov. I don't expect you to agree with my assessments of specific playwrights, as your experience I'm sure differs. Look for the gist.
My vacation was dense. I lazed, but while doing so I was generally pretty active. I spent most of the time on Denman Island, but on the way there and back stopped off in Duncan, staying the night on the return. Cullen who is three now is getting pretty fun, and is a terror. He's been riding his bicycle for about a year, and moves around like photons in a laser chamber. I took Kali and Jade to Murder On the Nile. I think they are 11 and 17, and both enjoyed the show and the outing. I hope that I can give the positive experience of going to theatre my father gave me to others.
Kali and Cullen were there to see me off. She doesn't cry when I leave anymore. Cullen did though, for different reasons. I was pointing at something on his shirt and he took a swing at my hand which I reflexively moved, and he fell flat on his bottom. His Dad said, "Look at that Uncle Scott, just like Jade, he gets instant karma."
Then, on the way back from British Columbia I stopped in Bellingham for the evening to visit my stepsister's family. My nephew and niece, nearly six and four years old enjoy my visits as much as I do. They are at the age where they are about as tall as my leg, so they like hugging my leg, especially the younger sister. Something they can get their arms around.
While I was reading Dr. Seuss with both Miles and Delaney sitting on my lap, it was in my awareness. It won't be long until they can't give legs bear hugs, and will have to wait nearly a decade before they can give grown-up bear hugs. That and the realization that having both of them sit on my lap at the same time is a short and privileged time for uncles.
Is it having become 50? Is it having become an artist? It doesn't really matter. Being aware of a gift while it happens makes the gift all the more more poignant and lovely. It is a subtle, gentle, immersing wash of joy when a young child says "I love you Uncle Scott."
I always wanted to have children. It would be a long and painful essay to explain why it never happened. It is quicker to say, thank god for nephews and nieces. Which reminds me I need to contact the teachers for whom I hope to read this year.