Tag Archives: Carl Sandburg

Ten or So Things I Learned From Harlan Ellison

I still miss Harlan Ellison.
I feel diminished, but’s that not accurate. Though I never met the man, he enhanced my world. He pointed a way to empowerment with wit and ferocity. On many days, he is my favorite writer. This is one of those days.
Things I learned…
1. “You are not entitled to your opinion. You are entitled to your informed opinion. No one is entitled to be ignorant.”
Perhaps Ellison’s most relevant statement since the onslaught of the radio talk shows. It’s a pretty safe bet if you can’t spell your opinion or you’ve cut and pasted your opinion, you haven’t researched your opinion. You’re simply spouting randomly or shouting “ditto” into the chaos. It’s unhelpful at least, certainly a waste of everyone’s time (including your own), and probably destructive of anything that might possibly “make America great.”

2. “Don’t start an argument with somebody who has a microphone when you don’t. They’ll make you look like chopped liver.”
This is so obvious. Just tune in to a Trump rally or any politician’s town meeting. This also applies to getting into a social media debate with a professional writer. Geez…these people write for living! Or suggesting to LeBron James; “Let’s settle this with a game of H-O-R-S-E.”
3. The three most important things in life are sex, violence, and labor relations.
No. I didn’t buy it at first. But his essays on the subject convinced me…or perhaps made me laugh so hard I could no longer think rationally.
4. “No one gets out of childhood alive.”
A grim notion, but I fear its accuracy. I still think artists have a chance, but even they must constantly “beware the little deaths” of which Carl Sandburg warns. As I write this, the strains of Stephen Sondheim’s “Everybody Says Don’t” are snickering through my head.
5. “The two most common elements in the universe are hydrogen and stupidity.”
Probably Ellison’s most famous quote. I know it sounds like bumper sticker wisdom, but…duh!
6. “Once one becomes strong or rich or potent or powerful it is the responsibility of the strong to help the weak become strong.”
I know a number of well-meaning, successful people who started out with a two-step plan for their lives; — 1. Make a lot of money, and 2. Help others. — However, after achieving #1, they added a third step; — 3. Forget #2. — I suspect Mr. Trump scoffs at the very existence of #2.
7. If you work at Disney, nobody f#@ks with the Mouse.
Just ponder that a moment. These are words to live by…or at least words to remain employed by.
8. “…love and sex are separate and only vaguely similar. Like the word ‘bear’ and ‘bare.’ You can get in trouble mistaking one for the other.”
In my 60’s… I think… duh.
In my 20’s… I think I probably shoulda listened to Harlan.
9. A number of other very specific things that have been helpful to know;
– “Ignorance is never having seen a film by Akira Kurosawa.”
– Listen to your dog.
– Trophy-hunting is a poor idea, especially on Ristable.
– “…you can fight City Hall…”

10. And finally, if you’ve not read any Harlan Ellison, you have that to look forward to. I suggest starting with my favorite Ellison story; “Jeffty is Five.” Jeffty is always five, another good thing to know.
Thank you, Mr. Ellison, and now that you’re on the other side, please send back messages as you promised. You ain’t a writer for nothing!

The Kindest Critic

If you do theatre, you will face critics.

How do you feel about that?

If you do one play and one play only in your life, you either soar or you crash. A good review, and you are Icarus unbound – and we know how that turned out. A bad review (or even a lukewarm notice), and you wonder how you’ll ever be able to face any living being on the morrow, you are outraged by the vindictive cruelty of the reviewer (who you probably don’t even know), and you conduct a Carl Sandberg-ish dialogue with yourself about the desirability and logistics of ending it all. Eventually, you get up, you face all the people in your life (who didn’t even know you were in a play or that the paper actually reviewed plays), and you reach the same conclusion about suicide that Sandburg did; it’s overrated and way more trouble than it’s worth.

But if you do a lot of theatre, you have to reach some accommodation between yourself and published criticism. Who can live with roller-coasters of life-and-death repeated after every opening night?

Not this cowboy.

I think I was still in my teens when it occurred to me the foolishness of allowing one person’s opinion on one night validate or invalidate 6-10 weeks of my life. Hell, they might have had a tough day or a bad meal…you don’t know. Or, perish the thought, the reviewer might be right.

So what?

Frankly, after opening night, their correct or incorrect opinion doesn’t affect you much. You and your cast mates are pretty well committed to your chosen path by opening night. The show generally goes on.

Please understand.

A good review is still a boost and a bad review still stings, but the reviews don’t provide either a raison d’être or a raison not to d’être.

It’s interesting to me that most of the actors I know rarely quote their own reviews. Oh, they remember them…word for word. They squirrel them away in needy corners of their psyche and nurture them to cyclopean proportions (could that be the derivation of the phrase; “big head”? And if you prompt these outwardly modest thespians, after a few drinks, reviews from 30 years past may come tumbling out to the glee or utter boredom of others in the room. That’s a genetic flaw in the species and can surely be forgiven as it harms no one.

Yes, the reviews are remembered, especially the bad ones.

I have been reviewed favorably and unfavorably, cleverly, pointedly, accurately and inaccurately. Stephen Sondheim seems apt to quote at this moment; “I’m still here.”

I think the kindest bad published review I ever received was no review at all.

I was playing the key character in a drama. Six weeks of fine, engrossing rehearsal had us poised for a successful opening night, and it was. The review came out and it was enthusiastic about the production.

It didn’t mention that I was in the show at all.

Ouch.

I was bewildered…and then angry…………and then grateful.

Obviously the critic was unimpressed by my performance…no, make that bothered and possibly offended by my performance.

The critic could have put that in writing for the world of local newspaper readers to see.

But the critic didn’t.

The silence hurt.

I disagreed with the negative implication of the silence, but perhaps I should be grateful for it.