A night out

Your Center City Correspondent took Mrs. CCC out on a date last night.  Frequent readers will know that we like to go to the theater and if we can go for a discount, that’s even better.  We went to see Our Class (not to be confused with the American classic Our Town) at the Wilma Theater on Broad Street.  We got half-price tickets thru Groupon.  We didn’t want to break the budget so we ate dinner at home then took the bus over to the show.  Stopped into Ted’s Montana Grill for a quick drink beforehand, but stayed long enough to know that we wouldn’t be going back anytime soon; the wait staff and cooks kept shouting at one another and if the service wasn’t rude it was non-existent.    Kinda like going to your in-laws for Sunday dinner.

Quickly finishing our drinks we crossed the street and settled into our seats, center stage, 10 rows back, took one last breath and did not exhale until intermission.  Took another deep breath as the second act started and didn’t breathe again until it was over. The show, based on a true story, is about a class of 10 kids in a village in Poland and how their lives changed as World War II swept over them.  It divided the village into Poles and Jews and the travesties that befell each group.  One theme that played throughout the show was how power changed the way people treated one another, whoever had it mistreated the group that was out of favor.  The show is intelligently written, well-acted, provocative and above all, intense.  Not the most pleasant night at the theater, but well worth the price.  I don’t know if I’d recommend it for everyone, but I’d invite those who enjoy theater for more than the songs to give it a try.  Afterwards, a quick cab ride home and we were drinking our nightcaps with our slippers on within 15 minutes of the final bows.  I got an extra hug from Mrs. CCC for our little excursion that made it all worthwhile.

A quick note on the Occupy Philadelphia group that is camped out near City Hall, right across the street from the front door of my office.  What a rag-tag bunch of people.  Dilworth Plaza is a decrepit place on a good day, but they have turned it into a recreation of Coxey’s Army.  When asked how long they’re staying, their reply is “Until it’s over.”  If it was up to me, it would be over now.  The city is going to be refurbishing the plaza starting next month and the campers are going to be moving across the street to the Thomas Paine Plaza that surrounds my office!! Oh, rapture!  As Mr. Paine wrote, “These are the times that try men’s souls . . .”

All for now.  Enjoy your fall weekend - carve a jack o’lantern, take a hay ride, tour a haunted house, drink a pumpkin beer, watch a football game.

Therapy

As part of my Columbus Day weekend therapy to try to erase the bad memory of the Phillies, your Center City Correspondent and Mrs. CCC went to the Art Museum to view the special exhibit Rembrandt and the face of Jesus.  Rembrandt, a Dutch painter in the 17^th century was a very religious man, painting numerous pictures of the life of Christ.  He humanized Jesus, eliminating the saintly look and halo, and painting him more like a prophet or ascetic.  He used local models among the Jewish population of Amsterdam, dressing them in plain robes, making Jesus appear to more human than God-like.  The exhibit also explained how Rembrandt did his etchings on copper plates, and was able to recreate his masterpieces over and over.  Very enlightening and entertaining.  Two of my favorites works were Christ at dinner in Emmaus and Jesus preaching to the children.

The exhibit comes to Philadelphia from the Louvre museum in Paris, and for me, could not come at a better time.  With all the recent turmoil in the Archdiocese of Philadelphia, my faith in the church and the hierarchy has been shaken to its 60-year core.  (I’d better tread lightly here; Joan of Arc was burned at the stake for the same thing.)  But my faith in Jesus has not been shaken, in fact I feel that it’s stronger because I’ve cut out the middlemen.  Seeing the devotion that Rembrandt put into his artwork helps make that bond stronger.  Like I said, therapy.

The exhibit runs through October 30^th.  It may not be for everyone, but if you want a look at a real Dutch Master this is a great way to see it.  Check out the link below for more info.

http://www.philamuseum.org/exhibitions/409.html?page=1

Mudville

If this seems like a disjointed post, that’s because that’s how my mind is right now.  Why does Philadelphia always get the short stick?  We deserve better than this.  We don’t deserve to get our hearts ripped out and stomped on every time, every year.  For those who say, don’t worry, the sun will come up tomorrow, it’s tomorrow already and it hasn’t shown up yet.  Does the sun dare to show its face here, knowing that the citizenry wants to wallow in its despair?

What promised to be a beautiful holiday weekend has been made gloomy and dreary and overcast by the events of Friday night.  I’m not going to recap the series here or assign blame; the only thing I’ll say is that the bad karma started when Cliff Lee could not hold a 4 run lead in the second game – they should have left town with a 2-0 lead and won it the next night on Francisco’s miracle HR.  But no, the Fates or God or destiny will not let that happen.  All of them are against us.  When we do win, it's in spite of them.

I’ll say this now (but more than likely retract it next year), – I’m not going to get mentally engaged with the Phillies again.  I tried it a few years ago and it worked for a while but I got sucked back in; after what transpired last night, whatever heart I have left will be made of stone.  I won’t be fooled again.   Maybe I’ll stop by the Edgar Allan Poe house today – it might lift my spirits.

Usually the title of these posts is the last thing I think of, but not today.

Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout;
But there is no joy in Mudville - mighty Casey has struck out.