Notes From A Burning House

A gun, a ukulele, and prana.  Some personal news updates.  Opening chords, please…

On Friday afternoon, a 30-year old man forced his way into the offices of the Jewish Federation of Greater Seattle.  He did this by hiding behind a plant in the lobby and holding a gun to the head of a 13-year old girl.  Before he surrendered, he had murdered one woman and wounded five more people, including a pregnant woman.  You can read about what happened here.

In Los Angeles, I work for another highly prominent Jewish organization.  We already have post-9/11 security measures in place.  Our office door is nondescript, and when you approach it we can see you through two cameras that are installed in the hallway.  You buzz, identify yourself if we don’t know who you are, and we buzz you in.  There are panic buttons distributed throughout the suite.  If the Jewish Fed in Seattle had these, it is hard to say what would have happened if the gunman had been surprised by police.  Oh yes, I am also trained to handle bomb threats.

What’s a nice lad from a small New England fishing state doing here anyway?

In the three years I have worked at this place, we have gotten a few weird phone calls but nothing threatening.  One day last week, an officer from the LAPD’s counter-terrorism unit called "just to see if everything’s okay" and doing his best to sound casual.  Then, on Friday, we hear about this shit in Seattle.  We will, I am sure, be taking a more diligent (perhaps a little more scared) approach to screening visitors to our office tomorrow.

Usually, when I tell people I work for a Jewish organization their eyebrows rise and I say to them, "Hey, they didn’t ask."  This much is true.  That was three years ago.  On my first day at work, an earthquake rocked the building and the rabbi lightened the mood by stalking across the office, which was still heaving, pointing at finger at the new Buddhist employee and saying, "This is because of you!" 

That has been the most exciting event to happen in the office and we all hope it stays that way. 

*     *     *

I’ve been practicing "Dream A Little Dream On Me."  Difficult chords.  Surprisingly, in this city where you can find just about anything you want (except an unmetered parking space), a ukulele instructor has taken a little bit of detective work.  I heard back from someone at McCabe’s in Santa Monica who will work with me.  He is a little expensive, and I don’t have much money (everyone who works at the high-security Jewish organization is handsome, but our pay is not), but something will get worked out. 

Practicing the ukulele is an effort that yields delightful results.  This has not been true in every area of my life, especially recently.  Subsequently, this feels therapeutic rather than indulgent. 

*     *     *

An old friend and Conservatory mate arrived in town a month ago and I think she will do very well here.  After one week, she had business cards.  She is an excellent theatre artist, a director who is also a trained and talented actor, and a yoga teacher.  We’ve had exciting conversations about teaching yoga and meditation for actors, and applying them specifically to actor training.  At her goading, I have conceived three classes I would like to teach - a writing class, an acting class based on movement rather than text, and a class about meditation and actors’ preparation.  Meanwhile, Jennifer has found a space.  Is this the beginning of a school?  Even as I think of leaving Los Angeles for someplace more walkable? 

Here is a more important question: will it rain today?  Please? 

*plunka dunk dunk plunka dunka dunk dunk…*

"I’m siiiiiinging in the rain…."

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