Wednesday, 10 July 2013

[The Life of Shaun #475] Our Town

The first time I heard Our Town was in 1993. I was living in Paris at the time, and I listened to the BBC World Service as it was the only station in English (but also brilliant - I still listen to it now). They broadcast the play over the air across three days, and I remember waking up at a silly hour to hear the final segment.

I finally saw it nearly a decade later when I off-handedly mentioned to my friend, David Bell, that Our Town was my favourite play. He quickly poured me a cocktail and introduced me to the amazing PBS broadcast of it (with Frances Conroy and...some other people).

I saw it live for the second time tonight with Rachel Klem in a little theatre pub (they are common here) on Upper Street called the King's Head Theatre, and it was fantastic. In this sort of setting, it was a casual and intimate affair, but if you know the play, you know it lends itself to that. I had to allow myself some leeway from the PBS masterpiece: I am pretty sure the accent mix of Southern New Hampshire has never had such a cosmopolitan twang, the racial mix of the time was certainly less progressive, and there were two actors who just didn't fit.

But all that quickly gave way to the play - and the play is really quite special. Perhaps it's my place in life, or the fact the play has been under my skin for twenty years, but I loved it. It's such a simple, earnest, beautiful 100 minutes. It's perfect.

To all the Londoners, I whole-heartedly recommend it. It's an easy and quick after-work thing to do (7:15-9:15, with interval), it's cheap, and it makes for a great night. The show is on through next week, and the details are here (don't worry about not being able to buy online anymore - there are definitely seats):

https://kingsheadtheatre.ticketsolve.com/shows/873494844/events

To everyone else, get a torrent of the PBS version and have an enchanting evening at home.

Cheers,

Shaun

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Sunday, 2 June 2013

[The Life of Shaun #473] Happy birthday to Pops!

Dad has been staying with me for a month, in transit from the temporary home in Chicago to his next temporary home in Bali - at least for a couple months. He'll be joining Lisa and Danai there, who are there to be near Lisa's husband as he's flying in Southeast Asia currently. After that, the plans get...fuzzy.

Dad and I have been packing in his stay here with exploration, new neighbourhoods, restaurants and pubs. This week has been the climax of the visit as it's been Dad's birthday weekend. I entered a charity raffle at work for football tickets and won a pair to England vs. Ireland at Wembley. Dad's become a massive football fan and Liverpool supporter in the past few years, so he was thrilled. Despite the 1-1 draw, it was a really good night - Dad was beaming.

This weekend I took Dad to Liverpool for his birthday present, and Mary Keany joined us. What a difference some sunshine and 15 degrees make! I went to Liverpool about a year ago, and it was awful. It was freezing and pouring, so it was an exercise of running from one hen-night-infested bar to another. This time the sun was out and, though not warm, it was near-to-warm, which, gauging from how Scousers dress, is about as good as it gets on the North Irish Sea.

Liverpool actually turned out to be quite charming, especially by day. It's a very agreeable, mostly pretty, walkable city, and the Beatles' legacy has ensured that there is an ongoing permeation of music and performance around the city. We had great food, great pubs, heard great music and went on great walkabouts. If it weren't for the dire state of the gay scene, it'd've been a perfect city weekender.

Now Dad's time in London is drawing short - leaves for Bali on Wednesday. It's been great having him here, hanging out with him and taking this trip. I hope he makes his way back here soon.

Cheers,

Shaun

A little plug: Of the many performers dotted around Liverpool and its watering holes, I took cards from two to look up when I got home. Dave Pilla was playing guitar and singing on one of the pedestrianised city centre streets, and he sounded great, so I tossed £1 into his case and took his card. I just downloaded his premier CD from his site (just £4) and love it. So, if new artists and music is your kind of thing, check him out at http://davepilla.bandcamp.com/album/dave-pilla, have a listen, and support him by buying his album if you like it.

Pops outside Wembley.

Pops and me at his birthday dinner.

Liverpool is very popular with hen- and stag-does and all that implies.

Typical pretty city centre street

Matthew Street, where The Beatles famously began at the Cavern Club.

Radio City tower in the city centre.

The Liverpool riverfront from Radio City tower.

Liverpool is the only UK city with two functioning cathedrals, the Catholic one on the left, the massive Anglican one on the right.

Dad, Mary and me for Thai dinner at the very respectable Chaophraya.

Dad at the Cavern.

The Liver Building, one of the "three graces" that adorn Liverpool's riverfront and give it its recognisable façade. I liked this one the best, both for the building, and because of the liver birds at the top. It's said that the female liver bird is looking out to the port to see if the sailors have made it home safely, whereas the male liver bird is looking into town to see if the pubs are open.

The Catholic cathedral...

...and its inside. The iPhone can't do it justice, but it really is a very impressive, beautiful, warm, calming space.

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Saturday, 11 May 2013

[The Life of Shaun #472] Good night, Mama

Lara and her kids left Chicagoland for Italy last Friday; Dad, Lisa and Danai arrived in London on Monday, ending this American chapter of our family's story.

Today, just after Lisa and Danai left to reunite with Lisa's husband in Laos, my last six boxes of possessions, lovingly stored by Rachel Klem in these intercontinental years, arrived from America, ending all material ties to my mother country.

After Lisa left, I went through the old slides and photos my sisters had scanned to CD, then I helped Dad arrange his things into the space left by Lisa and her departed luggage, moving clothes, stacking suitcases and sorting miscellanea, when I picked up a pair of headphones and the box they rested on from the floor, when Dad said, in the casualest breath, "Those are Mom's ashes". It was as if those words were made of lead, as I suddenly felt the heft of the box in my hands. I rather uncomfortably held them and moved towards the hallway, where we have bookshelves, as it seemed like the only appropriate direction to go when you're holding someone's ashes was towards a shelf.

I'd known they were bringing Mom's ashes to stay with me, as our family's scattered and in flux for a while, but in all the chaos of the recent weeks, I'd honestly forgotten about it. And suddenly, mid-sentence about where to store a pair of headphones, I was holding Mom's ashes - holding Mom - in my hands. This big life and personality, every memory of her, was unexpectedly in a 6" x 6" box in my hands.

I'd felt uncomfortable and unsure about Mom's ashes living here, so I never thought about where they would actually go. I walked her ashes towards the shelves in the hallway, but they are filled with books and board games, and I couldn't imagine Mom there. So I brought them into my room, where I cleared a snug space for them on my bedside shelves, where I can sleep next to Mom again for awhile. I'm no longer uncomfortable or unsure; I'm just glad to have her near.

Cheers,

Shaun

Mom and Dad, the day this crazy Coley story officially started.

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Tuesday, 30 April 2013

[The Life of Shaun #471] Kerr, a drag queen star in Las Vegas, dies

Russ texted me this morning to let me know that Kenny Kerr had died. It might seem odd to mourn the death of a drag performer I'd met only tangentially a few times, but with her a little piece of my past dies as well. When I first started going out in Vegas, Gipsy - that little "club", with a rainbow painted across the front and slot machines in the bar, on the Northwest corner of the intersection that served as Vegas's gay core - was everything to me. It's where I met my friends, where I was out at least four nights a week, and where I finally started living the life I wanted. And Gipsy wasn't separable from Kenny Kerr, who would often be there, sometimes performing, sometimes just there, but always a presence.

So hearing he died brings back all those nights - those many, many nights spent there with Russ, coercing Mike Odynski to have just one more - and all that grew out of it. Suddenly this epochal period that normally seems so remote behind the years of life, in ever more distant cities since then, doesn't seem so far removed anymore. And for just an instant - a fleeting instant - I feel like a Vegas boy again. Only this time grateful rather than resentful; for all that Vegas lacked that I needed and fled to find, it's still where the foundations of my life were laid. But it's just that little bit less fabulous now.

Viva Las Vegas,

Shaun

Posted April 28, 2013 - 6:59pm Updated April 29, 2013 - 2:01am

Kerr, a drag queen star in Las Vegas, dies

REVIEW-JOURNAL FILE

Kenny Kerr, in an undated photo, performs at the Plaza. Kerr, best known for his female impersonations, died Sunday. He was 60.

By MIKE WEATHERFORD
LAS VEGAS REVIEW-JOURNAL

Kenny Kerr, the bad girl that Las Vegas fell hard for in the '70s, died Sunday. He was 60.

The star of "Boy-lesque" was the Strip's first must-see female impersonator, pulling a locals-heavy audience into a tiny casino called the Silver Slipper for 11 years with his deadpan stare, cutthroat wit and killer gowns.

"It's now to the point where there are three things you have to see: Lake Mead, Hoover Dam and 'Boy-lesque,'" Kerr said in 1988, when the show wrapped its long era at the Silver Slipper in anticipation of the casino's eventual closure and demolition.

Kerr's impressions of Cher and Barbra Streisand were matched by his comedic skills as the show's saucy host.

Drag was still somewhat taboo when Kerr came to town in 1977, but by then, he had already been impersonating Streisand for years.

Growing up in Blue Anchor, N.J., he was 16 when a couple who saw him shopping at a mall noted his resemblance to Streisand. They soon had him riding the bus into Philadelphia to perform at night while he was still attending high school.

"These people had a show of the sort I do now and asked me if I wanted to work in it," he recalled in 1982. They talked a lot of money. ... Most of my contemporaries had jobs for minimum wage or less."

Going out on his own a few years later, Kerr and his original cast showcased their act for free at the Sahara and caught the attention of Herb Kaufman, the owner of Wonder World discount stores.

The Slipper show quickly became a low-cost novelty for locals to take out-of-town visitors. But it arrived fresh on the heels of Anita Bryant's anti-gay crusade, and for years Kerr said the question "Are you gay?" was one he had to dance around.

"It's a question I can't win by answering," he said in 1982. "If I said I am gay, there are an awful lot of narrow-minded people out there. And If I said I'm heterosexual, a lot of people wouldn't believe me."

Kerr kept working after the Silver Slipper era, with long runs at the Sahara and Plaza followed by smaller casinos and gradually diminishing returns, as the rival "La Cage" revue proved fierce competition and the shock value faded over the years.

After spending much of the 2000s in Palm Springs, Kerr returned to Las Vegas and forged on in clubs and the Onyx Theatre as recently as last year, after the death of his longtime partner and a serious illness.

"One thing about troubles is you quickly learn who your good friends really are," he told the Review-Journal last year. "People are always trying to stab you in the back. But lately I've been surrounded by so much love. I wasn't aware of all the love that's out there. I now appreciate the kindness that comes my way."

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Monday, 22 April 2013

[The Life of Shaun #470] Manchester 2013

...I had my first trip since coming home. It was odd upon getting back; since I didn't know exactly how long I would be in Chicagoland, I didn't make any future travel plans. I'd be lost trying to remember the last time I didn't have a confirmed trip on my books. But Marco and Jan came to the rescue on this one and agreed to a boys' weekend away to the capital of the North.

My lamentations about the decline of Manchester's gay life from an undiscovered delight to suffering the same (though milder) Northern disease that seems to be taking hold everywhere outside the M25 remain valid, but Manchester still holds a special place in my heart. I'll never forget the unbridled joy that seemed to flow forth on Canal Street on my visits there over the first many years. So while it's disappointing to see the changes, I still enjoy its company. And to be fair, some bars along Canal Street have started implementing firm no-hen-night/stag-do policies (though stag-dos are not the problem - few straight men want to spend their last night of freedom trolloping from gay bar to gay bar), so perhaps there's some fight in the community yet.

Anyhoo, to Manchester we went, glitter headbands and matching sassy tee-shirts be damned, and had a very good time. I went to my current favourite bars, discovered some new ones, and succeeded spectacularly in showing Marco and Jan what a Manchester hangover felt like. However, going with them there was very different from my previous trips with Russ. Apparently there's a whole city out there beyond the train station, Canal Street and the path between the two. Who knew?! And what's more, Marco and Jan (well, Marco) wanted to go see it as well. So I can safely say I discovered a whole new side to Manchester this weekend.

Next time? I'm going with Russ again.

Cheers,

Shaun

View of Manchester from the flat we rented.

Machester Town Hall (lovely, innit?)

Random agreeable architecture

Jan was a little less keen on standing under his own power than Marco

Two old pub buildings in the city centre. Apparently, they were picked up from elsewhere and moved here to save them.

In 1996, the IRA bombed Manchester's city centre, destroying much of it, and setting off the regeneration that has allowed it to clearly become the main city of the North, and arguably on the way to usurping Birmingham as Britain's second city. This is Exchange Square, part of the redevelopment, and designed by Martha Scwartz.

This is the pillar box (mail box) that survived the blast and serves as its memorial. I was really quite taken with this. Had this been in America, there would likely have been a shrine built around it, with water features, jagged glass sculptures, gardens, poems etched in walls, all of it drenched in red,white and blue light features. Here, they simply allowed the box to remain in service, inconspicuously standing on a through street (you'd never know what it was if a local didn't tell you) with a small bronze plaque reading: "This postbox remained standing almost undamaged on June 15, 1996 when this area was devastated by a bomb. The box was removed during the rebuilding of the city centre and was returned to its original site on November 22nd 1999".

The Northern Quarter, Machester's Dalston...

...where we had great Lebanese food at The Cedar Tree, and were completely beguiled by the decor...

...though they didn't quite seem to get the meaning of vegetarian.

Last, but certainly not least, Canal Street, before the boys have come out to play.

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[The Life of Shaun #469] Half truth

I haven't written in a while, but there really hasn't been much to write about. The first week back was a bit surreal; everything felt a little false. Being back at work, going through the motions - it felt like trying to pretend nothing had happened. Then things got better, and then they got worse, and then better again. And that oscillation has been the rhythm of my life the past few months. Hardly the stuff of gripping reading.

I've been dreaming about Mom a lot the last two weeks - most always about wanting to relieve her pain - so I know there's processing going on in the back of my head as well as the front. Who knows where that's leading, but the one thing I can tell you is that the people who say to tell those close to you that you love them every day, they are right, but they're not telling the whole story. I bore this advice in mind and told Mom every day - many times a day - and I know she died without any doubt about how much I loved her. But what nobody tells you that it doesn't matter. Regardless of how much you tell someone you love them, even if you tell them till you are blue in the face every single day, it still doesn't matter. The first time you want to tell them that you love them, and you can't, it aches in a way you couldn't understand before.

But it hasn't all been macabre and painful. My friends have been great, and Mary Keany an absolute treasure. Her mom died of lung caner a little over two years ago, and she approaches me with a care and delicacy - and sometimes the tough love - that only the commonality of our sorrow can allow. But everyone's taken care to fill my diary and my days with the life I love living here. And with that more positive note...

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Monday, 11 February 2013

[The Life of Shaun #467] Back in Blighty

The sequel to "Hammered in Hoboken" has begun! I made it back to the Big Smoke this morning via a relatively bumpy flight made smooth and much shortened through the magic of Ambien. London's assured no shocks to my system by lining up light snow for my return today, though it is just above freezing, so nothing is sticking.

Feels good to be back, but still a bit surreal; real life hasn't hit yet. I imagine going into the office for the first time in two months tomorrow might drop that reality on my head pretty hard.

The week in New York was great, though far off the frenetic visits of the past. Most of the time was actually spent in Hoboken, due to both the warmth Rachel provided me emotionally, and the literal warmth of the flat which made going too far afield a very unwelcome proposition during blizzard Nemo. Still, saw most everyone I wanted to, had some nice dinners, made it to Pongsri Thai, but amazingly only entered gay bars twice, and briefly.

Now to try and fight off jetlag and get unpacked and through six weeks of unopened mail.

Glad to be back in E1,

Shaun

"New York by Ghery", a great new residential building in Lower Manhattan. I was lucky enough to be invited to dinner by a mutual friend in the building.

View of 1 WTC from their place. You, too, can have this view - for a mere $7,500/month for a two-bedroom unit.

Me with Cooper giving the good love.

Me walking in blizzard Nemo.

Rachel and me in the snow.

Destination reached!

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Shaun H. Coley | Shadwell | London | UK | shaunism.blogspot.com

Monday, 4 February 2013

[The Life of Shaun #466] Leaving on a Jetplane

It's my last night in Illinois - all checked into my flight to New York tomorrow.

It's been an amazing, awful, exhilarating and exhausting almost two months here. I am ready to go; ready to have a break in the Big Apple, ready to get one step closer to home, ready to be out of the house where Mom died. But I am also sad to leave. The last weeks my family's lived together under the same roof again, something I never thought would happen again once we were adults. Mom's pull brought in aunts, cousins and friends on a regular basis. It's been chaotic, but full of life. It's something I know I am unlikely to experience again, and I treasure it.

But London is growing impatient with me, only grudgingly allowing me a visit to her younger sister without becoming too irate. I am filling up the first weeks back in London with reunions with friends and favourite places. I can't wait to get home to London, to Shadwell, my flat, my flatmate, my life. It's weird to think that this current reality will seem so fleeting once I've left, as everything does in life's rearview mirror. But forward is our direction of travel, eh?

With that - onward, ho! New York, pour me a cosmo, here I come!

Cheers,

Shaun

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Shaun H. Coley | At large in Naperville, IL | shaunism.blogspot.com

Thursday, 24 January 2013

[The Life of Shaun #465] In lieu of flowers

Hi all,

A number of people have written to ask for details about services. Per Mom's wishes, we won't be having a viewing or a memorial service. Mom wanted those she loved simply to get together, drink, and have a good time with memories of her. Dad, Lara, Lisa and I will be going up to Fish Creek, Wisconsin next weekend to spread her ashes on a hill overlooking water, as she requested, in a place that is full of good memories for her.

For those of you who would like to do something in her memory, I suggest making a donation to It's a Pittie, a rescue and education mission, in Mom's memory. Mom had a bleeding heart when it came to animals in need, so a donation to this organisation would mean a lot to her. Mom's "third daughter" (my cousin, Janine) is a head volunteer there, so Mom was a supporter.

If you would like to do so, you can hit the donation button at the bottom of this page:

https://rescueapittie.org/get-involved/donate/

Otherwise (or in addition), raise a glass to Mom when next you celebrate!

Cheers,

Shaun

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Shaun H. Coley | At large in Naperville, IL | shaunism.blogspot.com

Tuesday, 22 January 2013

[The Life of Shaun #464] 361 days

Mom died today at 11:04 am, just shy of a year from her diagnosis. Yesterday, our amazing hospice nurse had been over for her regular visit. In that meeting, she discussed the times people "choose" to die - not as in total control, but within the constraints of their reality. I sceptically accepted it as benign comfort, but I think Mom died exactly when she wanted to. I won't lie about the last days, they were awful and hard - but they were few.

We decided yesterday that someone should stay with Mom each night, just in case she came out of it and needed something. Dad took the first night, and as a result, slept with his wife through the last night of her life. The next morning, he drove down to pick up Mom's twin so she could be here with Mom, and during that time he was away, Mom died. She died not unexpectedly, but before any of us could be scared about it, with all three of her children with her.

This year, despite the cancer, has been an awesome year. We all spent so much more time with Mom than we would have otherwise, so many nights with friends and family, a surprise birthday party, countless games of cards and even more good memories. And that's one of the things that really affected me; I love my Mom wholly, and consider myself so lucky to have her as my Mother. I imagine most of us do with our mothers, but what hit me unexpectedly over the past year was the wave of words and expressions from others about how great a woman they thought Mom was as well.

To that, I'll leave with words that capture Mom better than I ever could myself. After Mom was diagnosed, I was designated her secretary and handled everything having to do with paperwork, mail and eMail. In that first week, she received one eMail that expresses so well why I am lucky to be her son:

"When I think back to my childhood, many of my best memories are of times I spent with Shaun, and you. You were always the kind of mom I wish mine had been. My mom was great, don't get me wrong, but there was something about the way you loved and understood your kids, no matter what, they never felt they had to hide who they were from you. As my children grew into teenagers, you were the inspiration for the kind of mother I tried (and mostly succeeded) to be."

I love you, Mammy Spammy, and miss you already.

Shaun

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For those wishing to give something, Mom was never a flower type. What you can do is donate to It's a Pittie, a rescue and education organisation for pitt bulls near Mom's home in Manteno, and where her "third daughter", Janine, is an active volunteer. Mom always had an open heart to animals, and a donation to this organisation would mean a lot to her (donate button at the bottom of the page):

https://rescueapittie.org/get-involved/donate/

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Mom, her husband, kids, and one sneaky granddaughter.

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Shaun H. Coley | At large in Naperville, IL | shaunism.blogspot.com

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