Jul 18, 2021
July 2021 Edition
“We do not quit playing because we grow old, we grow old because we quit playing — Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr.
Show me the funny
You know that old adage about the “older” person deciding they have time on their hands during the week (after their extremely stressful day job is over), and they elect to study improv, no?
It’s a tale as old as “You’re a waiter, and you just got stuck in a time machine with the Easter Bunny…. GO!!”
MY personal fuzzy tale has many titles because I just couldn’t settle on one:
“How I became a motivational speaker, lecturing to an audience member who was a narcoleptic”, “How I ended up writing a sketch about a greeting card company carving out a new niche writing greeting cards for suicidal people”, and “How I ended up writing a quasi-madrigal in the style of PDQ Bach about forgetting computer passwords called “F**K, a Round.”
Bunny Bunny Bunny Bunny
In 2015, a bestie began taking improv classes at the Second City Training Center in Chicago. Not that there was anything wrong with the other Chicago comedic entities at the time, that’s just where she landed.
(Warning: I’m starting my reminiscing dream sequence now. Go grab some water.)
Once upon a “however old I was”, I’d performed on stage beginning my not very illustrious comedic career as a giant homemade 3D dreidel, and the ever fascinating (but always comedic) Queen Esther. Then, I acted my way out of a paper bag through elementary school, junior high and high school, right on through community college. Separately, a friend of mine and I mounted a small one act play and took it on the road locally.
Building on the one act and the idea that: no one asked for us again but we’re going to do it anyway, we had a really close college friend quit his job in Chicago, and come to Upstate New York to direct us in an evening of Lanford Wilson one act plays. Shameless plug: He is a Lambda award winning writer now. Read his books: https://marshallthorntonauthor.com/
We pitched doing an evening of Lanford Wilson plays to Lena Spencer, the owner of Café Lena’s in Saratoga, New York. Yes, and… not only did Lena agree, Lena Spencer herself performed on the bill with us, in one of the other plays, Dock Brief.
To understand who Lena Spencer was and find out more about Café Lena’s and the famous people who played there (here I am lumping our play in with performances by Bob, Arlo, Don, etc.), for you folk music aficionados, I encourage you to read up.
http://caffelenahistory.org/index.php?2
(Dream sequence is now over — “Joel, step away from the baby sitter.”)
I kept thinking, since my friend is doing improv and it’s in my wheelhouse (I’m hip, I’m happening…I watched SNL and SCTV), why aren’t I doing it? Apparently she completely agreed, because her 2014 Christmas present was a gift certificate for Second City Training Center classes.
“If it doesn’t challenge you, it doesn’t change you. -Fred Devito
In 2015, I signed up for a beginning improv class that started the first week in January. Apparently, one of my classmates thought I was the teacher because my nerves kicked in and I started greeting classmates coming in the door. That’s ok Joe. No offense taken.
There were a total of 13 of us who end up going through the year long program A — E (two very talented guys joined us in level B) and we began doing class shows as we finished levels C through E.
(If I inspire you to do improv, just a side note: prepare yourself for performing 10:30 p.m. and 11:00 p.m. shows, and taking hours and hours to unwind after a show. If you can’t stay up late, well…just put your teeth back in and do it anyway!)
We were a variety of age ranges 20’s -30’s, and then, there was good “old” me. I love them all, and I’m still in contact with most of the group. They accepted me like I wasn’t their mother, which I truly appreciated. I will though point out that my friend Basia and I had a generational reference difference during an improv performance regarding The Cramps, vs. the cramps. That my friends is where the critical Yes, and…comes into play...Our teacher for that level show is now a writer for Stephen Colbert and publishes his cartoons in the New Yorker. He also had never heard of The Cramps. :-)
I was fortunate enough to get cast in a Coached Improv ensemble (Atomic Barbie) for a 4 week run, and we went on to perform other shows. We also performed at the Chicago Improv festival. I auditioned and got into a sketch show (Just Add Salt), and helped form a coached improv ensemble with folks over 40 (Social Insecurity). THEN I auditioned and got into the year- long Music Improv program, where I wrote and sang, and still couldn’t hear. And every time we went into the bar at Second City called 1959, I drank with my ensemble and remembered exactly why that date was significant to ME.
Finally, as an offshoot of all the above, a few us from the MI program, who were ages 40 and over, created a sketch group called Warning: Mature Content. We wrote and performed a show at two different venues.
On that note, this month’s essay is dedicated to my friend Steve, who died suddenly a month later, before we had a chance to rework and perform our show: “But, what do we know?” at different venues again. I’m grateful we had both of our shows filmed. He was an extremely talented man, and he was an extra ordinary human person.
Tokey Tokey Tokey
What did I learn through all of this? Well, hearing aids can help or hurt you depending on the loudness of the room laughter, or the piano player. If you can’t hear what’s going on in the front when your group is making up a musical and they begin improvising the opening narrative, place yourself on the side of the stage close to the front. Turn yourself into a side garden gnome if you have to, or a villager (or village idiot) who is doing something useful, just so you can hear the front line improv your location and the type of musical and plot you are now suddenly thrust into.
I can out drink anyone and stay out until 4:00 a.m. Also, it had been forever (college) since I got thrown out of bars. It was nice to know I could still do that. And finally, I write song lyrics like I write these pieces. They are waaay too long, but it keeps me amused.
There are people I worked with who were way more talented than me. Some of them tolerated me (I can’t say it was full on dislike, but...) I just didn’t have their caliber of talent and they and I, knew it. Sometimes you can just learn from talented people, and that’s an ok thing. They aren’t necessarily going to end up on your 3:00 a.m. emergency phone list. I expect to see some of those folks on SNL or a sitcom and/or on the SC main stage, because they are just that talented. But, when you truly do bond with funny folks, no matter their age, prepare to love the hell out of them!
Was I “the shit” doing all of this? No. But one of my best teachers, Ms. Rachel Mason, always made me feel like I didn’t completely suck, and THAT is all that matters. She is an excellent master teacher, coach, director, writer, so find her on INSTA! And of course, a special thanks to the musical director extraordinaire, Stephanie McCullough, who had the patience of Job with me. She makes Yoda look like he’s still got a lot to learn about teaching Jedi’s their craft. (Ellen bows in both of their general directions.)
Oh, and to all my Second City friends I still have who stopped making me “the mom” in their improv scenes, well, you are all STILL “the shit” in my eyes. Mwah!
Stay tuned for my August essay.
