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April 25, 2006
Pen Pals
When I was in my early twenties, I fell for a bumper sticker about “The Lifesavers.” Next thing I knew I was raising my hand and swearing to support and defend the Constitution of this great country of ours. (Did I mention that the freedom of speech and association parts are my favorite in the text?) Next, next-thing I knew, I was drowning in a sea of testosterone. Over five years later, after being at sea for months and returning to a home port that didn't feel anything like home, a lone friend met me at the pier, drove me to her apartment and set the mood as she put a funny looking blue album on the record player. Ah, relief. Suddenly, your “Making Waves” became a beacon of hope and your free speech became a lifesaver.
While on liberty one weekend, I attended my first “Sisterfire” in the DC area, where you were the MC. I waited nervously after the show to talk to you. As my heart pounded loud enough to ring in my ears, I rehearsed what I would say to you, in hopes of getting your attention and making a point. At the time, “armed services” personnel manuals actually divided homosexuality by categories, and mere association with a known homosexual automatically made you a Cater gory III or IV homosexual. Face to face with you at last, I handed you my program and asked you to write, “See you at your courts martial.” You bit and asked. I explained, and you wrote, “See you in court!”
You went on making waves and I went back to riding them. One day I finally got up the nerve to write to you – not so much a fan latter as a Thank You letter. I also wrote about life at sea and closed with, “If you send this letter back to me with red correction marks on spelling and grammar, then it’s over between us.” Imagine my surprise (and delight) when you scribbled back, “No red marks here. We could be pen-pals.” It was the start of a beautiful pal-ship!
Writing to you was occasionally bruising, literally, as I stayed up late at night typing letters to you in the ship’s office while in rough seas. My chair was bungied to the deck and a hard roll to starboard sent me flying away from the type writer, while the accompanying roll to port and bungee recoil would send me flying into the desk. But it was worth the pain because while I was writing to you I always felt less alone. Of course, then I'd have to run below and lock up the letters in my locker until I could safely mail them off to you. Years before it was trendy (and effortless) to slap a yellow ribbon magnet on a car, your wrote back to me, “Thank you for serving our country.”
Over five years of sea duty earned me the right to wear a cutterman’s pin and in recognition of your years of “making waves,” I gave you one of mine. With plenty of salt spray high-lites in my hair, rusty hull, battered bottom, and torn and tattered sails, I drifted into retirement. You, however, remain our silvered anniversaried Fumorizor Bunny – still going and going…..and going strong! I proudly salute you!
- Chief
April 24, 2006
Failure to Lunch
If it's Spring, and I think it is - yes, there's that telltale sign - the RiteAid bag lufting in the tree - it must be fundraising dinner season. As a professional dinner emcee, although now I like to think of myself as a guest worker, I've had the pleasure of not eating with thousands of lesbians and gay men. The recent Fenway Community Health Women's Dinner in Boston was its usual Seasonal See and Be Seen self. Those girls know how to partay!
The Task Force dinner in New York at the Grand Hyatt honored Pulitzer Prize winning author, and fellow summer blonde, Michael Cunningham and the newly elected openly lesbian Speaker of the New York City Council, Christine Quinn. We are so proud of her, we could plotz. The main dish at any Task Force event was lively dish.
My dear girls from NCLR threw their annual gala at the Moscone Center in their home town of San Francisco and 2900 attended! It was a sea of lesbians, acres of exes. The estrogen reached dangerous levels. Dangerous as in excellent. The honorees - pioneering activist/therapist, Betty Berzon; the first two-spirited couple to marry in the Cherokee Nation, Dawn McKinley and Kathy Reynolds; MVP basketball player Sheryl Swoopes and Jennifer Harris who challenged her UPenn basketball coach's homophobia - did us all honor. Executive Director, Kate Kendall, challenged us to engage our adversaries. If to know us, is not automatically to love us [who knew?] at the very least we need to make our very personal selves known to them. She is one of my favorite radical optimists.
Thank goodness, I got to break up the dinner season with a lovely visit to Ft. Worth, Texas. Home of the Cowgirl Hall of Fame! Pardner. The dames from Open Door Productions really know how to put on a show. Kris McIntosh and Linda Schram and all their compatriot volunteers took great care of me from door to door. And let me tell you, no one enjoys a little [okay a lotta] Bush bashing more than Texans!
April 17, 2006
Maundy Maundy
Imagine my disappointment that I did not meet the Governor of Caleefornia, Col. Klink, when I was on tour in Sacramento. It was a sunny day, and after weeks of rain, the natives ran to greet me as their precipitation liberator. We had a Really Good Friday, especially with all the new info on Brokeback Judas and the kiss. The crowd was raucous and gave it thier Passion Week best. The Crest Theater is a beautifully restored vaudeville house and I could feel the ghosts of comics past.
The next night in Portland Oregon, at the gorgeous Newmark Theater was also a hoot. After we got the people out of the theater who thought they were going to be attending a Cable Guy Show. Heck no, that's next door. And some of the lesbians who went into the Cable Guy Show in error learned a great deal and reported back that it is not going well for straight people.
My agent Tam Martin, who lives in Portland, smooothly managed all the details of the show and caught me up on all the news.
The Tour is rolling on like clockwork but I want to give you all a heads up. If Rummy resigns, [big if, he's doing all the planning with Dick Excellent Hunter Cheney to bomb Iran right now, he wants to go out with a bang] I'm going for his job. I couldn't do it worse. I've got excellent people.
Darlings, it's a Maundy Monday in New York and the crabapple trees are in bloom. I'm stepping away from my e-vehicle and I'm off to the park.
April 11, 2006
Los BIG NAMES
Heads up to all of you in and around the New York Metropolitan area!
After you've finished your immigration protest marching, why not stop over to see the fabulous offspring of Cuban and Puerto Rican immigrants, Miss Marga Gomez in her HIGHlarious show LOS BIG NAMES at the 47th Street Theatre?
You'll see why we need to keep those borders open. Marga gives Guest Worker even more zing. She is physically fearless - her impersonation of Kathleen Turner and Sharon Stone are killer, but you haven't really lived until you see her do Queen Latifah as Tiny, in her undersea depth death scene in the movie Sphere.
You'll laugh. You'll cry. Go. Get a date for Marga's show and apparently for Marga. She likes em femme and appreciative.
She makes us all proud. Viva La Marga!
April 07, 2006
A Lifetime Fan
I keep thinking about LOGO......why wouldn't they snatch Kate Clinton up? How about a monthly talk show? One thing I loved about Kate on the Greek cruise is her ability to let all of us crazy people talk on & on and then just at the right time Kate hits you with the most amazingly brilliant & funny line. She would make a great TV Host.
Deb Mosk
April 06, 2006
How I Earned KC Frequent Flyer Miles by Debra Shaprio, MD
Deb Mosk and Debra Shapiro, MD with Kate. Debra writes:
I have memories of seeing KC in the early 80's in Santa Cruz, California. Of the entire routine, I have to admit, I remember mostly the "menstrual standards": laughing hilariously as she mimed wrapping her sanitary napkins in rolls and rolls of toilet paper to avoid her brothers' discovering them. I had no brothers in the house growing up, but the jokes seemed timeless. I probably still had the vestigial napkin belt in an underwear drawer at home. I remembered the 5th grade films..I guess I empathized with the idea of being uncomfortable with your body and its peculiar functions. I wasn't very politicized yet, but as a budding college baby dyke I appreciated the early line: "she wouldn't say lesbian even if her mouth was full of one." That left an impression and an image that I could sink my teeth into, if you will. I knew she was a "recovering Catholic" and that was cool...it was the disco 80's and I thought religion was dead anyway. I wasn't concerned about the Pope one way or another--I didn't fear religion as I do now -- I just enjoyed the beautiful out comedienne with the sly smile and soft voice who was telling me that it was okay to be gay.
Continue reading "How I Earned KC Frequent Flyer Miles by Debra Shaprio, MD" »
April 05, 2006
GO TERPS
Sports Note Today my mantra is "Never be afraid to make a mistake and move on." Thus I do not correct for spelling today.April 04, 2006
I Was a Guest Worker in Palm Springs
In LA, I stayed with my great good friend Leslie Belzberg and her eight year old daughter, my goddesschild, Sophie. One afternoon, after we found that the cheesy diner I was trying to take her to for a coke was closed, Sophie walked me over to Elixir on Melrose for tea. She ordered the Ro-something Africanus, and a cherry tart. She picked out the table, set among rustling bamboo and near a gurgling fountain, poured some tea for me, sat back and announced, "This is living."
Indeed.
After some R&R in LA, a visit with my friend Lori, from NYC, now a shining star at the UCLA Film School and then a too-quick afternoon and evening with my galpal who was in LA for meetings, it was off to the Fabled Dinah Shore Golf Classique for moi. A friend of Tam Martin's, Joan Heeter picked me up at the airport and we were off! Heeter is a golfer, so was able to point out all the golfers - Michele, Anika, Julie - as we hiked in to the NCLR booth on the course. At the booth they shared with the fab gals from Olivia, we amused ourselves watching straight guys come by and grab up the free NCLR golf tees and key chains. Lots of splaining to do at home that night.
Once again, Andrea Meyerson and her Women on a Roll gang threw a great party in the desert. I did four shows in two nights amidst a flurry of Dinah activities. Another NCLR fundraiser, this one a brunch at the amazing home of Roberta Conroy and Terry Fabris. There we didn't lock any doors for fundraising. If they paid more, I told them they could stay for the week. Kidding. I did a book reading and signing at the Peppertree Bookstore and Cafe, a lovely indepedent bookstore on Palm Canyon Drive. It was an oasis of calm in a sea of non-readers. I had too-short visits with VickiShaw, her Sgt. Patch, Charlese, Lisa Koch, and many others.
Sunday morning I got up at 430a, but we'd sprung ahead, so no telling what time it was. Please don't tell me. Heeter drove me to the airport where I caught a flight at 630a and made it back to New York in time for the Women's Final Four from Boston. Go Terps. A totally gal sporty weekend. Travel note: it takes longer to get from JFK to the Upper West Side of Manhattan, than it takes to fly from Palm Springs to Dallas. That is not right. Someone please call Mayor Bloomberg at 311 and tell him to fix it. Thank you.
Sleep in Seattle then O Canada.
After my sojourn in San Fransisters, and my R&R in Marin, where I won one and lost one game of Scrabble, those Scrabble dictionaries really cramp my style, I flew to another gorgeous city, Seattle. It's a tough job, but someone's got to visit them. Michele and one of her posse, Francisca, took a 24 hour train ride up to Seatte. She would not recommend it. My pal Paul Bauer, who has produced me several times there, picked me up at SeaTac. It was March, so he was in shorts. Note to foodies reading this: all meals were taken at The Flying Fish.
Except for the NCLR benefit that night at the Hotel Andra and their hors were fab. The Seattle gals showed up! I had great chats with real estate brokers, a pilates trainer, a minister, a fabulous scientist and a private investigator. Cris Williamson, whose 30th Anniversary Changer and the Changed Tour - has it only been 30 years? - is also NCLR sponsored and who lives in town, came to the event. Always a pleasure. Because of a 5K match, we shut the doors and wouldn't let anyone leave until we raised the match. Catholic guilt and fundraising, it's a natural.
The Seattle show at the Bena Roya Hall, Benihana to me, was dreamy - packed and they were all charged up by yet another anti-gay measure. People need to get real jobs. Why can't we, as a gay movement, just start suing these anti-gay ballot pushers for harrassment and loss of income?
Next morning, we boarded the Victoria Clipper to Victoria. You haven't lived until you ride the ferries in the northwest. I'm clapping. I believe in ferries. Jannit, who met us at the terminal gave us a quick tour of some of the island. Spring was springing, the sun was out, things were blooming. Then I was sneezing, but that's for my medical blog. The show in the Alix Goolden Hall was great fun. No one appreciates some good Bush Bashing like Canadians. They are all quite restrained - they could have gone around gloating, "We told you so," but they now have a new P.M. Steven Harper, who wants to be like George, so they seem a bit embarrassed.
From Victoria, we hopped the ferry from Swartz Bay, and threaded the needle through misty green islands and arrived in Vancouver. More clapping. The show at the Arts Club Theatre on Granville Island was a raucous, blast for a Sunday night and the reception after for their Youth Center was a chance to see old familiar faces and some new ones. Friends from back in the day of camping on Saturna with Ferron after the Vancouver Folk Festival where I had insulted some in the crowd by observing that I loved Mother Teresa in ET. Friends from that long ago.
Next morning I bid a sad farewell to Michele Karlsberg, my publicist who had been road managing me since San Fransisters. She headed back to Staten Island, by plane not train and her friend from SF, Francisca, headed home. Unmanaged, I managed to make my way through Customs back into the states to LA. When the agents ask if you are carrying any dangerous weapons, I always want to point to my tongue. But the signs all say, "No Joking" which I take very personally.
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