AfterWords

Before I breathe a word, see for yourself:

(All images above provided by Triton Review staff photographer Beth Dingman.)

Two nights ago, I was lucky enough to get a sneak preview of “The Imaginary Invalid“, directed by Edmonds Community College guest instructor Keith Hitchcock!

(I managed this by slipping in the Center for the Art’s auditorium the second that the stage manager’s back was turned. When they realized that an interloper was in the audience, however, the cast rose up and I was unceremoniously booted by the second act…)

Just joking! Keith Hitchcock very generously allowed me to view the entire dress rehearsal and snoop around backstage. Thank you, Keith!

The actors of in play (comprised entirely of Edmonds Community College students and alumni) were incredibly welcoming, enthusiastic, and fun to quiz about every little detail that went into putting this production on. Some basic info that I found out from their director is that this play (as I’m sure most of you have already figured out) is adapted from Moliere’s “ La Malade Imaginaire“. Though written as a comedy, Keith told me that, by spooky coincidence, the lead actor–Moliere himself–dropped dead on the stage during the fourth night of the original showing in 1673. Not such an “imaginary” invalid after all.

Despite those inauspicious beginnings, “The Imaginary Invalid” is a hilarious play. Described by its practitioners as classic French farce, the lead hypochondriac Argan (Corey Johnsen) unsuccessfully matches wits with his clever maid, Toinette (Sara Coates). Flouncing around the stage with her trusty featherduster in hand, Toinette is a godmother in a skimpy French maid’s uniform to her mistress’ hapless stepdaughter, Angelique (Hanna Crawford). Angelique’s stepmother, the “devoted” Beline (Cassandra Boggio) and her self-deluding father vie to ruin the girl’s life. Beline, eyeing her husband’s fortune like a starved jackal, designs to cut Angelique from the line of inheritance by maneuvering her into a convent.

Argan, on the other hand, is a medical idolater. His mania manifests itself in upwards of twenty injections a month that are prescribed by the domineering Dr. Purgon (Andrew Flores), who damns him to a harrowing list of maladies at the least sign of disobedience:

“From bradypepsia into dyspepsia.
From dyspepsia into apepsia.
From apepsia into diarrhea and lientry.
From lientry into dysentery.
From dysentery into dropsy.
And from dropsy to autopsy….” [Emphasis added]

Doctors run rampant through Argan’s house. Their behavior becoming more collectively outrageous by the time that the betrothed that Argan has selected for his daughter, the retiring Thomas Lillicrap (Ian Wight), arrives on the scene. (Think Steve Urkel.) Accompanied by his overpowering father (Julian Estrada), the two Dr. Lillicraps play their part to the hilt, with “medical” techniques and diagnoses that would make any modern physician wince.

Angelique refuses to be made a hostage of her father’s obsession with illness. With help from Toinette and her aunt Beralde (Mary Miller), she counters her parents’ scheme to keep her from her love: the bourgeois Cleante (Justin Hylarides). This character is reminiscent of music teacher Danceny from “Les Liaison Dangereuses”, by another French playwright.

Along with the ludicrous intrigues, “The Imaginary Invalid” is heavily accented by physical humor. Thrown pillows, fainting fits, swung canes, and belly flops onto Argan’s bed punctuate the play. I was chuckling to myself the entire time. During intermission, though, the cast directed me to laugh louder. Of course, I obliged!

I think that my favorite scene was Angelique and Cleante’s duet, which you should definitely watch for.

Has anyone else seen the play? Any particular scene or plot twist stick out in your mind? Better yet, are you a part of “The Imaginary Invalid”? If so, share your perspective!

This entry was written by Ian Ruotsala, who kindly provided the images used in a previous blog entry.

Ian is the Vice President of Edmonds Community College’s new H.E.L.P. Club, and though I haven’t met him face to face yet, I certainly look forward to working with him!

I arrived at EdCC at noon for the carpool, one volunteer of about a dozen with whom I carpooled to brave the wind and rain to clear an invasive blackberry species from around the Daybreak Star Indian Cultural Center in Discovery Park in Seattle. Our small convoy made its way though Shoreline, then Greenwood, Ballard and Magnolia until we found ourselves in the lovely verdancy of the park. It was pleasantly serene despite the driving rain and the fact that it’s located in a city of half a million. In fact, the low hanging clouds evoked an eerie beauty by obscuring the other side of Puget Sound; I, being a science fiction nerd, jokingly entertained the thought that we had passed through a warp in space and were actually by the ocean, rather than the Sound.

We entered the Center and signed into a guestbook that, among other things, provided us with insurance from the City of Seattle in case any of us were hurt while working (though everyone seemed quite saftey-conscious). A volunteer in front of me, from a group not from EdCC, asked a friend what their address was. I was a bit surprised that someone would have to ask what their address was, and wondered if they had just moved. When it was my turn to sign in, I saw why he didn’t know what to put for an address: he belonged to a group of volunteers from Tent City 4. Contrary to the stereotype of homeless people as listless alcoholics, the volunteers from Tent City 4 ended up working as hard as us students.

Before beginning, Human Ecology instructor and HELP Club faculty advisor Tom Murphy gave us a brief history of Daybreak Star Center, We were then lead outside, back into the rain, where Tom Murphy and EdCC student Johhny
Robbins explained to us the difference between the invasive Himalayan blackberry, and the native Salmonberry. The Himalayan blackberry had been imported to the Pacific Northwest to produce jam and wine, but escaped into the wild and
began to dominate native species that had no adaptations against it. So, we picked up hoes and clippers, and set to work against the Himalayan.

I, along with several other people, used the hoes to uproot the blackberries–leaving behind the roots would just allow the plant to grow back. Then, the group with the clippers would follow, cutting the uprooted plant into small pieces. Finally, the blackberry pieces would be collected for mulching–if we allowed large pieces to lie on the ground, they would
reroot, making a whole new bush (when told this, I thought of starfish and grey goo.

We did this for three hours, getting soaked in the process. But, besides the sense of accomplishment imbued by maintaining the natural ecosystem against human mistakes, we were rewarded with pizza at the end of the work. I unfortunately wasn’t able to get any pictures of the weed clearing, since heavy rain isn’t the best thing for digital cameras, but I did get a few of the pizza dinner.

I, along with Johnny Robbinsm and EdCC student Kacie McCarty road home in CWU student and HELP Clup president Garrett Jenkins’ car. As we were about the cross the Fremont Bridge, we noticed a man with a stalled car, alligator
clips on his battery, but no one stopping to give him a jump. So, Garrett stopped, clamped the wires to his battery, and gave the guy a jump. As our car and the formerly-stalled car went their separate ways, someone (I can’t remember which of us) suggested that doing one good deed (i.e. maintain the ecology) puts you in the mood to do another good deed. I think this is partly true, but also think that just being in a car with friends makes you more likely to stop in the middle of a crowded road to give assistance; whereas most single-occupancy drivers were probably in a fairly foul mood, stuck in traffic with only the radio to entertain them, we had been having an engaging conversation. So, the extra few minutes to give a stranger a jump didn’t feel onerous at all when we among friends.

I am actually fairly introverted, though it may not seem so when I’m sharing my thoughts on a public blog. So, for a shy person like me especially, I think this is an example of something, even more rewarding than pizza, that
happens to me when volunteering: establishing friendships.

(I know, I know, it is long after the celebration itself, but you would not believe how heinously bogged down by schoolwork etc. I am , this month!)

The personable Maria Morales, whom I first met the night of Cecilia Alvarez’s artist reception, wrote this explanation in response to my query about Dia de los Muertos. Maybe some L.A.S.A. members can share their experiences from the club’s event as well as family celebrations.

Even if you aren’t of Chicano or Latino ancestry, do you–like me–just enjoy the holiday? If so, share your perspective!

I definitely look forward to reading the responses for this one!

(Photo by Julia Robinson)

In Mexico, the Day of the Dead is celebrated by the children on the November 1 which is “All Saints Day” and the adults celebrate on November 2 “All Souls Day.” In Mexico, people visit the cemetery where their loved ones are buried. They decorate gravesites with marigold flowers and candles. They bring toys for dead children and a special gift of some kind to adults. We honor them by transforming the room into an altar. They surround these altars with flowers, food and pictures of the deceased. They light candles and place them next to the altar. We play their favorite music, make their favorite food such as mole and tamales. Even though our loved ones are gone, they will never be forgotten in our hearts and our minds. Day of the Dead is celebrated in Mexico and in certain parts of the United States and Central America. It’s celebrated different depending on where you go. Thanks Maria Morales LASA-Co-Advisor

This blog entry was written by a warm, likeable (and yes, as I’m essentially incorrigible, very handsome, too; wait until I get some pictures up…) man whom I’ve recently gotten to know: Gerard Ah-Fook. Gerard and his wife Mitzellah are both active and celebrated Service Learning figures at Edmonds Community College.

Gerard is a star athlete with wheelchair basketball at our school. He certainly schooled me in the finer points of the game when I went against him and his teammates during a practice for The Rolling Tritons. It happened a few weeks ago and was my first experience in a chair. I walked away bruised, blistered, and grinning like a fool.

And with a new-found respect for the dangerous speed and agility of Gerard and his club members!

(I also learned that I need to work on my layup.)

Anyway, without out further ado, here is Mr. Ah-Fook’s unambiguously written account itself:

Hi my name is Gerard Ah-Fook.

I’m a student at EdCC and the president for the Rolling Tritons Wheelchair Basketball Club. I chartered this club as a continuation of the efforts of my wife and former student, Mitzellah Ah-Fook. She saw the need for an opportunity where people with diverse abilities could interact through the fun social environment of wheelchair basketball. In the process we have developed a skillful and competitive team within the club that will travel for Division II tournaments in the National Wheelchair Basketball Association (NWBA – Not to be confused with the women’s league) in 2007.

On Sunday evenings we run drills and practice from 6-9pm in the Seaview Gym of EdCC (Free). For more opportunities to play wheelchair basketball, you can join me at Bellevue’s Highland Community Center on Wednesday nights from 6-8:30pm with the admission price of $3 (goes to gym usage not to me). For prospective youth athletes contact me for information to possibly play on the Junior Sonics wheelchair basketball team.

Okay technical part of the blurb aside… We have a lot of fun on the court. So long as the waivers are signed, we’re cleared for take off. Flipping our chairs end over end, the smell of grinding metal, you get the sense we’re pushing our physical abilities over the limit. There’s nothing holding us back… Physically I mean. We still are civil to each other and I encourage us all to treat each other with dignity and respect. Imagine two of our people chasing down a ball with their chairs, and going full speed (Full speed is faster than you think). Now imagine that they are not worried about the paint job on their chairs. The potential for eating floor is always likely.

We have people who do not want to play as aggressively and I don’t want to scare anyone from joining us. You’re just as safe as you want to be if aggressive play is not your thing. We have a variety of all ages and all abilities.
If anything come for entertainment value to see a bunch of people with disabilities shatter a common myth that we are fragile. ‘This aint no country club.’

Regards,

Gerard Ah-Fook
President of EdCC Rolling Tritons
gahfook@comcast.net

Dr. Temple Grandin, an Associate Professor of Animal Behavior at Colorado State, arrived with much fanfare on the Edmonds Community College campus on November 1st for our second Brown Bag Lecture of the season. Grandin, who is herself autistic, travels the world lecturing on her unique status and insight.

Her publications and accolades are numerous, and confirm that Grandin is a celebrity with capabilities that most of us strive for.

Sue Z. Hart, an admirable woman whose efforts over the past two years are responsible for bringing Grandin to our campus, probably regards last night’s event as (trite though it may sound) a dream come true.

For the first time ever in the history of the Brown Bag lectures, people were turned away. School employees had to stand guard at the entrances of the TUB 202 to prevent the brimming conference room from becoming a mob scene. Joseph Elder, a member of student government, managed to disperse some of the disappointed crowd milling around by informing them that footage from the lecture would be available soon.

These are the sort of nights that make us proud to be students at Edmonds Community College.

Unlike the hundreds straining to catch a glimpse of this dynamic character, I’ll admit that I went with slightly less enthusiasm. I have been nursing a sinus infection for days now. My voice and my disposition are altered, and not for the better. My crankiness was elevated yesterday, too. Earlier that day, I thought that I had a meeting scheduled with someone at a certain time. When I arrrived, though–at said time–she was on the phone, looked up at me and snapped, “No!”

I spent ten minutes outside of her closed door, fuming, before I was allowed in. Lingering frustration was the theme of the day.

So I dragged my feet, showing up nearly too late for the talk. I struggled in through the doors and looked around in disbelief. I, like dozens of others, deposited myself on a comfortable patch of floor and waited for the evening to commence.

While the low hum of excited chatter reverberated through the room, I was stubbornly silent, staring at the floor. Grandin, Dee Olson (our school’s Director of Services for Students with Disabilities), and Sue Hart were clustered at the head of the room.

I took a quick look at Grandin; she wore an outfit the likes I haven’t seen since I lived in Louisiana. When the talk commenced, her ringing Midwestern twang put a smile on my face. After a few minutes, I decided to lever myself out of my cloud of self-pity and actually listen to what she had to say.

Her talk turned my day around.

Grandin, a “visual thinker”, is an intelligent but plain speaker. She presented a variety of topics related to autism; everything from her personal background with the disorder, to her theories on overmedication, to her views on the lack of career training suited to the capabilities of autistic children.

The lecture’s accompanying powerpoint was interspersed with a series of evocative images. When one showed up, Grandin would briefly sidestep her subject to explain the significance that this marker provided, acting as guideposts through the talk. An image of a lonely cabin with lit windows in a dark wood helped her elaborate on the isolation of certain areas of an autistic mind v. a photograph of a fully lit lamp store to demonstrate the comparable interconnectivity of a so-called “normal” mind.

She compares her own brain (of which she provided image scans) to an organic “Google Images Search Engine”. A written query will turn up a variety of pictures, according to its own system of categories.

The mathematical nature of her own mind and other autistic people fascinates Grandin. However, she emphasizes that she is far from a autistic savant with mathematical talent. Grandin was excited when she related that the geometric swirls of Van Gogh’s (another suspected autistic artist) “Starry Night” mimics the complex theory of surface turbulence.

I felt buoyed by her enthusiasm, her common sense approach to autistic youth (including slides of acceptable autistic misbehaviors v. ones that parents shouldn’t tolerate), and her theories on education.

I left the TUB 202 conference room feeling changed, lightened. Her overriding message to everyone, autistic or not, is that oddness won’t exclude you from social interaction if you have the ability to compensate for it. After hearing her speak, I decided that I too am strange, and stubborn, like Temple Grandin, but that is no reason not to excel.

I was impressed by Temple Grandin’s lecture; for those who attended, I’m sure that there are points that resonated with you, as well.

Please share them with us!