Back in November my 26-year-old niece Anita texted me:

Beth, quick question for you do ya have any interest in possibly going to A Christmas Carol at Goodman Theater on Saturday the 11th of December at 2

Here in Chicago some families go to the Goodman to see A Christmas Carol each and every Xmas. How pedestrian! Truth be told, I kind of sort of rolled my eyes at Anita’s suggestion. Bah humbug! I had never ever gone to A Christmas Carol at Goodman, and thought it best I keep it that way.

But then came the back-and-forth texts. Anita’s girlfriend Kelly would be coming as well, they had chosen the December 11 performance because that’s the one offering a pre-show audio tour for blind people. Anita and Kelly are a fun couple, smart and witty, we share a lot of laughs when we’re together. And, okay, it was pretty flattering to think they’d go out of their way to spend an afternoon at the theater with their old blind great aunt Beth. No more bah humbugs! I said yes. And am I glad I did!

Tickets for A Christmas Carol are usually quite expensive, but in its efforts to be “a theater for all” and a “place where diverse audiences experience extraordinary productions,” Goodman offers reduced-price tickets to people who attend the touch tours. Anita and Kelly were accompanying their blind old great-aunt Beth, so they got the same discount I did.

Black Lab Luna guided me from home to the theater last Saturday, I showed my proof-of-double-vaccination card with pride, and handed over my ticket. “Box seats!” The ticket-taker sounded impressed.

When Goodman’s’ house manager/accessibility coordinator Andy Wilson greeted me in the lobby, he explained they save those box seats for people who might find accessing regular theater seats difficult. “Your box is on the main floor,” he explained. “No stairs!” Bonus: Box seats are great for social distancing, and Luna could sprawl during the show without bothering anyone else.

Andy directed Luna and me to our starting point in the lobby, where they had three of the understudies’ costumes available for me to touch (the ones the actors would be wearing were not available for obvious reasons). I appreciated having the costumes displayed on dressmaker dummies — that way I can feel the fabrics with structure and imagine how they might look — and fit. A costumer from the show was on hand to give me the back story on each piece. My favorite? A top and hoop skirt worn by the Ghost of Christmas Present. I was encouraged to touch the fabric, the stitching, the piping, the braids, the brocades, the hoops, everything.

Anita and Kelly showed up in time to enjoy some of the costumes, and from there they escorted me into the theater to meet some of the main actors in the play for the pre-show. One of them was the one playing the Ghost of Christmas Present — the one who’d be wearing the hoop skirt. “I’m supposed to look like a Christmas tree,” she laughed, then went on to explain the real reason behind the hoop skirt. “It hides the harness I have to wear.”

Harness?

Yes, harness. She wears it to hold up the weight of the Christmas tree hanging off her shoulders. “A couple other actors wear harnesses under their costumes, too,” she added, explaining that Scrooge and the Ghost of Christmas Past actually fly during the show. “They need harnesses on to do that.” My mind went right to my childhood, when I marveled at the TV presentation of Sandy Duncan flying in the Broadway revival of Peter Pan.

The actors chatted briefly about their role in the play, their appearance and/or physicality and how they might approach that in their portrayal. The Ghost of Christmas Present described herself as having “brown skin and black hair” and told us she plays a charwoman near the end of the play, too. Each actor gave us a few lines from the play, too. Astonishing to hear the Ghost of Christmas Present sing one of her lighthearted lines from when she’s in her hoop skirt, then transform to a baritone charwoman for that later scene…all right before my very ears!

The last actor to describe themselves was the Ghost of Christmas Past. You can get a great example of how generous the actors are with their descriptions hear by listening to a recording of Lucky Stiff describing what it’s like to dress as the Ghost of Christmas Past for every performance. (Use the link to the audio player below.)

Ghost of Christmas Past Goodman Touch Tour

When Goodman’s Andy Wilson explained that they switch up the performance every year, I couldn’t help but laugh. “Sounds like this one’s gonna be like Cirque du Soleil!”

• • Musicians on stage throughout the play portray buskers on the street outside of Scrooge’s office –sounded to me like a bass, a French horn, a violin, a recorder, an acoustic guitar, even an…accordion! So nice to hear live music on stage again.
  • Rather than Scrooge having a nephew Fred, in this version he has a niece Frida who invites Scrooge over every Christmas.
  • The party where all the dancing goes on is traditionally at Mr. Fezziwig’s place, (he’s a businessman who uses Scrooge as his banker) but in this version the business is owned by two women. Mrs. Fezziwig & Mrs. Fezziwig dance together in this scene.
  • Tiny Tim is portrayed by a 12-year-old Chicago girl whose parents immigrated here from India
  •  And lest we forget: some of the characters fly — Scrooge flies with Lucky, the Ghost of Christmas Past.

Anita, Kelly and I learned most of what I’m reporting above from going to that “audio tour” before the show. During the pre-show the actors explained to me exactly when the flying scene would happen, how the flying contraption works, how heavy it is to wear and so on. Audio describer Jason Harrington jumped on stage at one point to walk around it and describe the setting and scene changes  — so helpful.

Forgive me for going on and on about this. I had a wonderful time with Kelly and Anita, they both were so kind-hearted and very helpful to me: ordering coffee before the show, snacks during intermission and then a Lyft ride home afterwards. Our afternoon at the Goodman finally got me into the Christmas spirit this year. I recommend A Christmas Carol at the Goodman to you all. It’s a winter wonderland of fun.

Major League Baseball is screwing up in novel but unsurprising ways during what should be an off season of free agent signings and trades. But the season’s not even “off” right now because it’s been locked out by greedy, depraved owners. And nothing will happen until that’s over.

Baseball owners have always been thus—rich, snobby, and lacking visions—with a few exceptions, including the late, great Bill Veeck. His story is more than blog’s worth—it’s a fantastic autobiography called “Veeck as in Wreck,” written with Ed Linn.

Veeck did great fun things in baseball, crazy things in baseball, and truly great things for baseball. He brought the first Black player to the American League—Larry Doby broke the color barrier in 1947 when Veeck brought him to the Cleveland Indians. It was only months after Jackie Robinson had done the same in the National League. Doby suffered just as mightily, but no one ever says “faster than you can say Larry Doby.” (Doby was also a hulluva player, by all accounts and by the numbers.)

Veeck also had the fortitude and moral sense to later to bring Minnie Miñoso to the Indians in 1949. The Cuban-born Miñoso had the distinction of being the first Black Latin player in the Majors, giving bigots a choice to make. From a story by Tyler Kepner in the New York Times:

Many light-skinned players from Cuba had appeared in the majors before Miñoso’s debut in 1949 for Veeck’s Cleveland Indians. Miñoso, however, was dark-skinned. He faced the same kind of racism directed at Robinson and other Black players, without the same command of English to help him get by.

And this:

“My first year in big league, one team — I no tell who — always call me names,” he once told The New York World-Telegram and Sun, which quoted him in broken English, as recounted in Jay Jaffe’s “The Cooperstown Casebook” in 2017. They used foul language and referenced his race, Miñoso said, adding: “I think they try make me afraid.”

Miñoso persevered. From 1951 through 1961, he ranked third in the majors in hits, trailing only Nellie Fox and Richie Ashburn. Miñoso had more steals and a better on-base plus slugging percentage than both.

Fox and Ashburn are Hall of Famers. So, of course, are Mickey Mantle, Willie Mays and Stan Musial, the only everyday players who matched Miñoso in batting average (.300), on-base percentage (.390) and slugging percentage (.450) in that 11-year prime.

Those are some pretty big, very well-known names, but not so much with Miñoso. By all accounts, which are finally coming to light, he was a prince of a man who somehow chose joy and generosity over anger and bitterness. I could use some of that.

Yesterday, Miñoso was finally voted into the MLB Hall of Fame. He wasn’t around to get the news—he died in 2015. In a radio interview on the eve of the vote, Minnie’s son Charlie, who apparently inherited his father’s grace, pointed out that his induction into the Hall would still be a fantastic recognition for Miñoso’s family. Between Cuba and Negro Leagues and a travel-heavy MLB travel schedule, they spent a lot of time without their father and husband around.

White Sox and Cleveland fans have always understood Miñoso’s greatness—he spent decades as Sox ambassador and was golden to any fan who wanted to talk. For those who weren’t part of his fandom, it’s never too late.

We had a great Thanksgiving, entertaining a neigborhood friend with several lamb chops, Greek smashed potatoes, and green beans.

Speaking of Greek: omicron. It’s worrisome. Or it’s not worrisome. It’s tiresome, for sure. And covid’s not going anywhere.

At least we don’t have a dickhead president calling it the African virus. Thank goodness for small favors.

As readers know, I got real sick in 2020. I’ve had two shots and a booster. I’m living my life with the idea that I’m not bulletproof, but close. I’m pretty sure the spiky little bastard has no chance with me. But no one can know. We’re all doing our best.

Except for the selfish, self-centered assholes who don’t get vaccinated. Getting the vaccine is the one solid thing we can do for ourselves and for people we care about. You might feel bad for a day. I did with each of two shots. But I had no effects from the booster. Doing it makes a difference. I had four uncles that served in WWII. This is small.

And you don’t get it just for you. Or your family (though you should). Or your friends (though you should). You do it for your country. Not doing so is unpatriotic. You do it for humankind. It’s not about you. It has nothing to do with rights. It has to do with responsibility.

Here’s something I learned: Lots of people have been on the rolls to receive lung and other organ transplants. Cystic fibrosis, and more. Many of these people need organ transplants for reasons entirely outside of their control. But now they’re competing with people who had a choice and didn’t get vaccinated and ended up needing organs.

For good reason, there are no moral judgments about who gets organs—it’s about medical need..

Good reasons that are enforced by better people than me.

Heidi Stevens, a Chicago Tribune Columnist (among other things) had this to say on Facebook about last week’s Rittenhouse verdict: “This country keeps finding new and endless ways to break your heart.”

Ain’t it the sad truth. I have nothing to say about that matter that hasn’t been written. Like everything in today’s United States, the verdict and Rittenhouse’s actions are starkly polarizing.

I don’t have anything against responsible gun owners, or responsible gun ownership. But a dumbshit, barely pubescent kid shouldn’t be able to even pick up an assault weapon, let alone parade around an inflamed situation with one. That he could do so is symbolic of how ridiculously stupid this country has gotten about firearms.

This has all happened in my lifetime—it wasn’t always this way. I still have hope that we can get back to sanity, largely because of sentiments expressed by a couple of lifelong gun enthusiasts who feel like I do about America’s gun insanity, and who are trying to do something about it.

One is a Montana resident named Ryan Busse. He’s written a book called “Gunfight, My Battle Against the Industry that Radicalized America.” Full disclosure: I haven’t read it yet but I intend to after hearing him interviewed on today’s edition of “Fresh Air.”

In truth, Busse had me at the title. Because the current state of non-regulation does represent the victory of a radicalized minority.

Busse grew up loving guns, and that led him to become a very successful executive at a firearms manufacturer. He was present when things went haywire. When the NRA morphed into a hate and fear vendor, and funder of campaigns. It wasn’t always thus.

Anyway, whether or not you read the book, I urge you—however you feel about the 2^nd Amendment and guns in general—to listen to the interview.

I also recommend visiting the Gun Owners for Responsible Ownership website. From the Who we Are section at the site:

We are gun owners, outdoor enthusiasts, and veterans who seek reasonable and responsible solutions to preventing gun violence.

We envision an America where all are safe from gun violence, and where responsible gun owners take the lead to promote safe gun ownership and sensible laws and regulations.

Our commitment to change arose from the December 2012 shooting at the Clackamas Town Center in suburban Portland, Oregon. Two people were killed and a third wounded. All were strangers to the shooter, but to us they were family, friends, and neighbors.

We believe our Second Amendment rights come with responsibilities. We also believe in common-sense efforts to reduce gun violence and promote gun safety across the country, including background checks on all gun sales, and safe and secure storage of firearms to prevent access by children or any unauthorized individuals.

The site is chockfull of solid data and information about advocacy. There are tons of seemingly smallish measures that are doable, and have been proven to make a difference.

God knows we need something different than we have.

I am pleased to feature Karen Fontaine as our Senior Class guest blogger today. A Professor emeritus in the College of Nursing and Psychiatric Nursing at Purdue University Northwest, Karen has retired after a long successful career as a nurse, scholar, therapist, author, lecturer and educator. She maintains her private practice in counseling, and somehow finds the time and energy to participate in the memoir-writing class I lead at Admiral-at-the Lake on Wednesday afternoons, too. The essay she wrote when I assigned “Rules I was Supposed to Follow as a Kid” helps explain her lifelong interest in all these fields, and I was delighted when she agreed to let me share her “rules” essay here with you Safe & Sound blog readers.

Today’s guest blogger Karen with her daughter Simone.

Rules I Was Supposed to Follow

by Karen Fontaine, RN, MSN

Sex: not to be talked about, not to be done.

At 4 years of age I awakened from my afternoon nap and decided to put lots of scotch tape on my genitals. When my mother walked into my bedroom, she freaked out. “No, no, no, no, no!” I didn’t know what was wrong, but I knew it was serious. “We don’t do that kind of thing!”

What kind of thing? Was scotch tape only to be used on paper? What’s wrong here?

About the same age, I walked in on my father as he was putting on his underwear. When he saw me, he leaped into the walk-in closet. “He has cow udders!” I thought. Growing up in Wisconsin, I’d seen lots of those. “BUT why is he jumping in the closet? How strange.” I wish now that I could tell the confused child that she’s okay.

These incidents illustrate my family’s pejorative approach to sexuality. Don’t look, don’t touch, don’t call it by name.

Sex education in my family was negative and shame-based. The rule was no sex until you are married. But they certainly never said or implied anything positive about enjoying sex in marriage. So, the question became, “If it’s so awful, why would I save it for the person I loved?” I decided to find out for myself: I became sexually active when I was 16. Sex was okay, just okay.

“What’s the big deal about sex”, I wondered. Of course, I wasn’t orgasmic in my teens. After that scotch tape episode, I was convinced it was bad to explore my own body.

Fast forward to my 24th year of life. I am in the basement of the church getting dressed for my wedding. Minutes prior to walking down the aisle, my father turns to me and says: “I guess I don’t have to tell you about sex, since you are a nurse.” I was stunned. “My father said the word ‘“sex?”” I thought. “My father thinks I am a virgin? This is a hell of a time to be trying to do sex education.” I muttered something and tried to smother my look of shock.

So no wonder I spent 40 years as a sex therapist trying to help others cope with destructive family, religious, and social messages about sex. Over the years I have also become an advocate for positive sex education — for people of all ages.

Karen Fontaine is a certified sex therapist and has served on the Editorial Advisory Board of the Journal of Couple and Relationship Therapy since 2000. Her private practice in Chicago specializes in Sex Therapy, Relationship Therapy, and Individual Therapy.</p