Highlight -- Climbing up and down steps. SNOW CANYON.
Then Petroglyphs and Red River Desert
Garden.https://photos.app.goo.gl/3tuDcnhzmorEoMeP8
Tuesday, March 26, 2024
Saturday, June 25, 2011
June 2011
“IS A PUZZLEMENT”
By Roberta Cashwell
Who doesn’t remember the lusciously elegant scene in the movie, THE KING & I, when Deborah Kerr sweeps Yul Brynner off his feet and around the palace ballroom to the strains of “Shall We Dance?”
The 1956 film brought sudden fame to the relatively unknown Brynner, who not only made the role his own but also redirected the story’s emphasis to the King, not Anna.
Adapted from Margaret Landon’s novel, ANNA & THE KING OF SIAM, the movie and the musical play are set in 1860’s Bangkok in the court of King Mongkut. This progressive king has hired a strong-willed English widow, Anna Leonowens, to teach his many children. The play opens with Anna’s arrival, and the battle of wills begins when Anna learns that the King has reneged on his promise that she would live in her own house, rather than in the palace as a servant. From there, the two clash, even as they fall in love (the best kind of romance), until the bittersweet end.
The musical opened on Broadway in March 1951, and played for over 1200 performances. Gertrude Lawrence (who had conceived the musical and for whom it was written) played Anna to Brynner’s King. Contractually, she was to have portrayed the role in the film as well, but she died of cancer during the Broadway run.
Both the musical and the movie were financial and critical successes. However, they had been considered risky ventures when Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein II initially adapted Landon’s novel. After all, neither hero nor heroine falls overtly in love and, in the end, the hero dies. What’s more, there is nothing steamier than a “kiss in a shadow.”
A puzzlement, indeed.
Nonetheless, for over 60 years, audiences have come again and again to watch Anna match wit and will to the King’s and to learn of tolerance for cultures foreign to one’s own...
“IS A PUZZLEMENT”
By Roberta Cashwell
Who doesn’t remember the lusciously elegant scene in the movie, THE KING & I, when Deborah Kerr sweeps Yul Brynner off his feet and around the palace ballroom to the strains of “Shall We Dance?”
The 1956 film brought sudden fame to the relatively unknown Brynner, who not only made the role his own but also redirected the story’s emphasis to the King, not Anna.
Adapted from Margaret Landon’s novel, ANNA & THE KING OF SIAM, the movie and the musical play are set in 1860’s Bangkok in the court of King Mongkut. This progressive king has hired a strong-willed English widow, Anna Leonowens, to teach his many children. The play opens with Anna’s arrival, and the battle of wills begins when Anna learns that the King has reneged on his promise that she would live in her own house, rather than in the palace as a servant. From there, the two clash, even as they fall in love (the best kind of romance), until the bittersweet end.
The musical opened on Broadway in March 1951, and played for over 1200 performances. Gertrude Lawrence (who had conceived the musical and for whom it was written) played Anna to Brynner’s King. Contractually, she was to have portrayed the role in the film as well, but she died of cancer during the Broadway run.
Both the musical and the movie were financial and critical successes. However, they had been considered risky ventures when Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein II initially adapted Landon’s novel. After all, neither hero nor heroine falls overtly in love and, in the end, the hero dies. What’s more, there is nothing steamier than a “kiss in a shadow.”
A puzzlement, indeed.
Nonetheless, for over 60 years, audiences have come again and again to watch Anna match wit and will to the King’s and to learn of tolerance for cultures foreign to one’s own...
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
The Symphony comes to town again. Encore.
Another summer. Another concert. Another year has rushed by.
A year since I wrote the first piece for this blog about the NC Symphony's annual concert on the Town Common.
Today, with temperatures reaching 100 and the heat index climbing above it, the powers that be decreed a change of venue. Over the course of the afternoon, the change was accomplished, picnic plans were hastily cancelled, and families with kids made last minute decisions about whether "everyone" would enjoy the music as well indoors as they had "out."
As late as 7:00, thirty minutes before the curtain rose, the place was deserted. Had everyone just blown it off due to the heat or the indoor setting?
By 7:15, however, the audience was pouring in.
By 7:30, the concert had started; all eyes were focused forward, and the triple digit temperatures melted away outside. Instead, the music warmed and mesmerized us for an hour and fifteen minutes.
Then we soared to encore, "I'll Fly Away."
Another summer. Another concert. Another year has rushed by.
A year since I wrote the first piece for this blog about the NC Symphony's annual concert on the Town Common.
Today, with temperatures reaching 100 and the heat index climbing above it, the powers that be decreed a change of venue. Over the course of the afternoon, the change was accomplished, picnic plans were hastily cancelled, and families with kids made last minute decisions about whether "everyone" would enjoy the music as well indoors as they had "out."
As late as 7:00, thirty minutes before the curtain rose, the place was deserted. Had everyone just blown it off due to the heat or the indoor setting?
By 7:15, however, the audience was pouring in.
By 7:30, the concert had started; all eyes were focused forward, and the triple digit temperatures melted away outside. Instead, the music warmed and mesmerized us for an hour and fifteen minutes.
Then we soared to encore, "I'll Fly Away."
Sunday, May 15, 2011
It's a Wonderful Life -- Tar River Players -- December 2010
Director’s Note
“Strange, isn’t it? Each man’s life touches so many other lives, and when he isn’t around he leaves an awful hole. . .” Clarence Odbody
Angels come into our lives in all shapes and sizes and from many directions.
Sometimes, they pass through without our even being aware. At other times, in moments of crisis, we are forced to stand up and pay attention. Often, that means taking a hard look at our lives and ourselves and figuring out what’s really important. If we’re lucky, we get the opportunity earlier, rather than later, in life.
But, whenever we come to that bridge, we are fortunate to be able to stand on it and take measure. And when we cross to the other side, we have been blessed with a gift from the angels.
From the Tar River Players, this show is dedicated to Tarboro, on the occasion of her 250th birthday. May you have hundreds more.
Merry Christmas!
“Strange, isn’t it? Each man’s life touches so many other lives, and when he isn’t around he leaves an awful hole. . .” Clarence Odbody
Angels come into our lives in all shapes and sizes and from many directions.
Sometimes, they pass through without our even being aware. At other times, in moments of crisis, we are forced to stand up and pay attention. Often, that means taking a hard look at our lives and ourselves and figuring out what’s really important. If we’re lucky, we get the opportunity earlier, rather than later, in life.
But, whenever we come to that bridge, we are fortunate to be able to stand on it and take measure. And when we cross to the other side, we have been blessed with a gift from the angels.
From the Tar River Players, this show is dedicated to Tarboro, on the occasion of her 250th birthday. May you have hundreds more.
Merry Christmas!
Affairs of the Heart
AFFAIRS OF THE HEART
How bad does life have to get before you hang yourself and your cat? Shoot your husband?
Run away from your hometown to California to work in a dog food factory?
Sound like tragedy? Or just a “really bad day?” In the hands of Mississippi born playwright,
Beth Henley, the material is always both comic and tragic, zany and sad – and ultimately richly
wise.
Henley was born in Jackson, Mississippi and received her Bachelor of Fine Arts degree from
Southern Methodist University in Dallas, Texas.
Her first professionally produced play was CRIMES OF THE HEART, which won the prestigious
Great American Play Contest of the Actors’ Theater of Louisville before going on to Broadway
in 1981, winning the Pulitzer Prize, the New York Drama Critics Circle Award for the Best Play of
the 1981 season, a Guggenheim Award, and a Tony nomination. In the playwright’s words, it
ensured that she would “never have to work in a dog-food factory again.”
CRIMES OF THE HEART is about the three McGrath sisters who grew up in the small town
of Hazlehurst, Mississippi and have gathered again at the beginning of the play to confront
family crises – the impending death of the grandfather who raised them and the arrest of the
youngest sister, Babe, for shooting her Senator husband in the stomach because she “didn’t
like his looks.” On this day, as well, Lennie, the oldest sister and “old maid” caregiver of their
grandfather turns thirty-five – an age that marks a sad landmark in her lonely life.
At first glance these unfortunate events seem the stuff of serious drama, but not so as realized
by Henley’s quirky vision. We laugh far more than we cry as we are drawn into their sometimes
awkward efforts to solve, or at least deal with, their family dilemmas.
Henley also wrote the screenplay for the 1986 film of CRIMES OF THE HEART, which starred
Diane Keaton, Jessica Lange, and Sissy Spacek, and featured Sam Shepard.
In the Tar River Players’ production, the cast includes familiar and new onstage faces. While
local theatre goers will remember Dawn Whitehurst, Tiffany Clark, Kate Brittain and Inie
Ribustello from previous Player shows, two actors and one actress are making their Tarboro
debuts -- Damariscotta Helm, John Brooks Langston, and Dillon Rogers. Together they create
an ensemble that is not to be missed.
Do yourself a Spring favor and go see this show!
How bad does life have to get before you hang yourself and your cat? Shoot your husband?
Run away from your hometown to California to work in a dog food factory?
Sound like tragedy? Or just a “really bad day?” In the hands of Mississippi born playwright,
Beth Henley, the material is always both comic and tragic, zany and sad – and ultimately richly
wise.
Henley was born in Jackson, Mississippi and received her Bachelor of Fine Arts degree from
Southern Methodist University in Dallas, Texas.
Her first professionally produced play was CRIMES OF THE HEART, which won the prestigious
Great American Play Contest of the Actors’ Theater of Louisville before going on to Broadway
in 1981, winning the Pulitzer Prize, the New York Drama Critics Circle Award for the Best Play of
the 1981 season, a Guggenheim Award, and a Tony nomination. In the playwright’s words, it
ensured that she would “never have to work in a dog-food factory again.”
CRIMES OF THE HEART is about the three McGrath sisters who grew up in the small town
of Hazlehurst, Mississippi and have gathered again at the beginning of the play to confront
family crises – the impending death of the grandfather who raised them and the arrest of the
youngest sister, Babe, for shooting her Senator husband in the stomach because she “didn’t
like his looks.” On this day, as well, Lennie, the oldest sister and “old maid” caregiver of their
grandfather turns thirty-five – an age that marks a sad landmark in her lonely life.
At first glance these unfortunate events seem the stuff of serious drama, but not so as realized
by Henley’s quirky vision. We laugh far more than we cry as we are drawn into their sometimes
awkward efforts to solve, or at least deal with, their family dilemmas.
Henley also wrote the screenplay for the 1986 film of CRIMES OF THE HEART, which starred
Diane Keaton, Jessica Lange, and Sissy Spacek, and featured Sam Shepard.
In the Tar River Players’ production, the cast includes familiar and new onstage faces. While
local theatre goers will remember Dawn Whitehurst, Tiffany Clark, Kate Brittain and Inie
Ribustello from previous Player shows, two actors and one actress are making their Tarboro
debuts -- Damariscotta Helm, John Brooks Langston, and Dillon Rogers. Together they create
an ensemble that is not to be missed.
Do yourself a Spring favor and go see this show!
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Tarboro -- Town by the River
TARBORO – TOWN BY THE RIVER
by Roberta Cashwell
I.
The River.
A source of Life – and livelihood.
A source of strength – and redemption.
A source of growth – and destruction.
Our river – the source.
Our town was born of the Tar River – even named for it,
As well as for our State.
Tarborough
on the Tar River
in the Tar Heel State.
Whether for the naval stores that were the products of our eastern
North Carolina pine trees,
or for the turned up heels of retreating soldiers,
we were baptized and christened
for both the sap that ran through North Carolina pines
and the river that carried away its products.
How do you harness – how do you live with –
a force that can trickle
with three inches one week
and surge to 30 feet the next?
Harness it? You don’t.
You learn to respect it.
To ride it.
Hope that it doesn’t harness you.
And be grateful for what it gives you.
II.
Rivers and railroads have threaded the seams of North Carolina,
Providing transport and commerce –
Linking towns to markets
and people to each other.
The East Carolina Railway
The Atlantic Coastline Railroad
The Eastern Coast Line
The Wilmington and Weldon Railroad
Names that once meant empires.
Some lines still thunder through town in the hours just before dawn.
Others have gone the way
of the ghost tracks on which they ran.
III
Tarboro Telephone Company was started in Tarboro
in 1895 by George Holderness and W. H. Powell.
The telephone was the phenomenon
that created the links through the air
that the rivers and railroads forged
in the water and on the land.
And Tarboro Telephone, which became Carolina Telephone and Telegraph, provided jobs – and livelihoods – as men and women left the farm and moved to town.
Imagine!
You could hear someone’s voice miles away
as if they were right there beside you.
A miracle!
IV.
Land. Farms.
Big and small.
Blounts. Norfleets. Clarks.
And Pippens.
The “Grove” rolled down to the river. Its stately house sat
on the highest point for miles around.
It still does.
The grounds overlooked the work of hundreds.
Cotton and tobacco were king and queen.
At the bottom of the hill lay the river,
ready to move the harvest
to points North, South, East and West.
Norfolk. Baltimore. Savannah. Liverpool. Raleigh.
Shiloh Landing was a bustling dock.
Its traffic, a noisy crescendo
That roared into a war
From which it never emerged.
In time, the farmland receded.
The fields lay fallow.
Houses moved in.
The house on the hill
now looked down on a town – downtown.
City government. Commerce. Banking.
Boarding and eating establishments.
Even an opera house.
V.
And it looked down to Main Street.
To the Town Common.
A small piece of green Heaven on 15 acres.
Second in age only to Boston’s famous Common.
A place for all seasons.
VI.
But. . . Summertime. Ah, summer.
The season of fullness,
when the Town Common comes into its own.
Tarboro’s Common has a rich history of Summertime living.
Within the last half-century, we’ve seen:
The town’s 200th birthday.
Thirty-five Happenings
Over 15 North Carolina Symphony Concerts
History Day Celebrations
Flag raisings – and retirings
And unofficially:
Weddings
Engagements
Birthdays
Christmas trees
Easter egg hunts
Ghosts and goblins
VII.
Tarboro is a sports town.
She loves her teams and their players.
What the sport is hardly matters,
but Baseball has long been close to her heart.
A minor league team!
We were a contender!
Games were played on the Common.
And later in the ball park,
where the crack of the bat
and the roar of the crowd
still resound.
VIII.
Walk around the Common
And you will find memories . . .
And memorials.
To those who have gone before us.
In battles, in War.
Those who fought for beliefs, for honor, for freedom.
So that we might live free
And walk where we choose.
May we never take that freedom for granted.
IX.
Born in Colonial America,
Tarboro has known war – close to home
And from a distance.
But no matter the distance,
If your own native sons or daughters are fighting,
It’s always close to home.
We’ve been called up, drafted, commissioned and imprisoned --
And sent around the world
to defend the honor of our Country
and to preserve Democracy wherever we find it.
We’ve considered it our right and privilege –
Not merely an obligation –
To go wherever we’re called.
It would always be safer, more comfortable,
To stay home
On our farms,
Beside our river,
In our houses.
But when we are called, we go.
When we are chosen, we serve.
When we are hit, we fall.
And when we come home –
However we come home –
We are honored.
Because we have served.
X
The river carries us,
Looping through the fields and woods.
It wraps itself around our town
And rocks us. . . gently,
For a hundred years.
A hundred years of peace. . .
Like a river.
And then there’s peace no more.
The river betrays itself.
And us.
Nature takes her own.
And when it passes,
We are safe -- and marked –
For another hundred years.
Have you ever lost it all?
Have you ever listened for a sound
Knowing it can only be an echo?
Have you ever inhaled
A loved one’s fragrance
Knowing it’s a phantom scent?
Have you ever glimpsed your home
Flying like a Dutchman
Inside your eyelids. . .
Have you ever lost it all?
XI
Home.
Our home within a home.
Tarborough
on the Tar River
in the Tar Heel State.
Tarboro is my home.
North Carolina is my home.
XII
We grow children here –
Several varieties,
All good ones.
Some grow up to be doctors,
Senators, teachers,
Shopkeepers.
Most grow up –
Somehow.
Some stay here,
Some move away,
And some come back home.
We grow children here.
XIII
The ultimate act
Of optimism and faith
Is to send our children forward
Into a future we have planned for
And over which
We have no control.
We birth them,
We rear them –
To the best of our abilities.
We let them go.
And we hope.
We hope that, somehow,
Their lives will be better –
Always better.
This is the American Dream.
XIV
We are a town of churches.
Houses of faith.
Sunday mornings are quiet
But for bells tolling,
Eleven o’clock chimes,
Organ music,
And choirs of angels.
We don’t dictate
Our faith or denominations
We don’t need to.
We know that prayer is private.
Worship is public
And all are welcome.
Our home, wherever we find it,
Is God’s Home.
XV
We are a town by a river.
Like God’s love,
It flows through us –
And around us.
It takes us back
And it carries us forward.
It is life –
And death.
It carries us forward.
It is our source.
©Roberta Cashwell 2010
by Roberta Cashwell
I.
The River.
A source of Life – and livelihood.
A source of strength – and redemption.
A source of growth – and destruction.
Our river – the source.
Our town was born of the Tar River – even named for it,
As well as for our State.
Tarborough
on the Tar River
in the Tar Heel State.
Whether for the naval stores that were the products of our eastern
North Carolina pine trees,
or for the turned up heels of retreating soldiers,
we were baptized and christened
for both the sap that ran through North Carolina pines
and the river that carried away its products.
How do you harness – how do you live with –
a force that can trickle
with three inches one week
and surge to 30 feet the next?
Harness it? You don’t.
You learn to respect it.
To ride it.
Hope that it doesn’t harness you.
And be grateful for what it gives you.
II.
Rivers and railroads have threaded the seams of North Carolina,
Providing transport and commerce –
Linking towns to markets
and people to each other.
The East Carolina Railway
The Atlantic Coastline Railroad
The Eastern Coast Line
The Wilmington and Weldon Railroad
Names that once meant empires.
Some lines still thunder through town in the hours just before dawn.
Others have gone the way
of the ghost tracks on which they ran.
III
Tarboro Telephone Company was started in Tarboro
in 1895 by George Holderness and W. H. Powell.
The telephone was the phenomenon
that created the links through the air
that the rivers and railroads forged
in the water and on the land.
And Tarboro Telephone, which became Carolina Telephone and Telegraph, provided jobs – and livelihoods – as men and women left the farm and moved to town.
Imagine!
You could hear someone’s voice miles away
as if they were right there beside you.
A miracle!
IV.
Land. Farms.
Big and small.
Blounts. Norfleets. Clarks.
And Pippens.
The “Grove” rolled down to the river. Its stately house sat
on the highest point for miles around.
It still does.
The grounds overlooked the work of hundreds.
Cotton and tobacco were king and queen.
At the bottom of the hill lay the river,
ready to move the harvest
to points North, South, East and West.
Norfolk. Baltimore. Savannah. Liverpool. Raleigh.
Shiloh Landing was a bustling dock.
Its traffic, a noisy crescendo
That roared into a war
From which it never emerged.
In time, the farmland receded.
The fields lay fallow.
Houses moved in.
The house on the hill
now looked down on a town – downtown.
City government. Commerce. Banking.
Boarding and eating establishments.
Even an opera house.
V.
And it looked down to Main Street.
To the Town Common.
A small piece of green Heaven on 15 acres.
Second in age only to Boston’s famous Common.
A place for all seasons.
VI.
But. . . Summertime. Ah, summer.
The season of fullness,
when the Town Common comes into its own.
Tarboro’s Common has a rich history of Summertime living.
Within the last half-century, we’ve seen:
The town’s 200th birthday.
Thirty-five Happenings
Over 15 North Carolina Symphony Concerts
History Day Celebrations
Flag raisings – and retirings
And unofficially:
Weddings
Engagements
Birthdays
Christmas trees
Easter egg hunts
Ghosts and goblins
VII.
Tarboro is a sports town.
She loves her teams and their players.
What the sport is hardly matters,
but Baseball has long been close to her heart.
A minor league team!
We were a contender!
Games were played on the Common.
And later in the ball park,
where the crack of the bat
and the roar of the crowd
still resound.
VIII.
Walk around the Common
And you will find memories . . .
And memorials.
To those who have gone before us.
In battles, in War.
Those who fought for beliefs, for honor, for freedom.
So that we might live free
And walk where we choose.
May we never take that freedom for granted.
IX.
Born in Colonial America,
Tarboro has known war – close to home
And from a distance.
But no matter the distance,
If your own native sons or daughters are fighting,
It’s always close to home.
We’ve been called up, drafted, commissioned and imprisoned --
And sent around the world
to defend the honor of our Country
and to preserve Democracy wherever we find it.
We’ve considered it our right and privilege –
Not merely an obligation –
To go wherever we’re called.
It would always be safer, more comfortable,
To stay home
On our farms,
Beside our river,
In our houses.
But when we are called, we go.
When we are chosen, we serve.
When we are hit, we fall.
And when we come home –
However we come home –
We are honored.
Because we have served.
X
The river carries us,
Looping through the fields and woods.
It wraps itself around our town
And rocks us. . . gently,
For a hundred years.
A hundred years of peace. . .
Like a river.
And then there’s peace no more.
The river betrays itself.
And us.
Nature takes her own.
And when it passes,
We are safe -- and marked –
For another hundred years.
Have you ever lost it all?
Have you ever listened for a sound
Knowing it can only be an echo?
Have you ever inhaled
A loved one’s fragrance
Knowing it’s a phantom scent?
Have you ever glimpsed your home
Flying like a Dutchman
Inside your eyelids. . .
Have you ever lost it all?
XI
Home.
Our home within a home.
Tarborough
on the Tar River
in the Tar Heel State.
Tarboro is my home.
North Carolina is my home.
XII
We grow children here –
Several varieties,
All good ones.
Some grow up to be doctors,
Senators, teachers,
Shopkeepers.
Most grow up –
Somehow.
Some stay here,
Some move away,
And some come back home.
We grow children here.
XIII
The ultimate act
Of optimism and faith
Is to send our children forward
Into a future we have planned for
And over which
We have no control.
We birth them,
We rear them –
To the best of our abilities.
We let them go.
And we hope.
We hope that, somehow,
Their lives will be better –
Always better.
This is the American Dream.
XIV
We are a town of churches.
Houses of faith.
Sunday mornings are quiet
But for bells tolling,
Eleven o’clock chimes,
Organ music,
And choirs of angels.
We don’t dictate
Our faith or denominations
We don’t need to.
We know that prayer is private.
Worship is public
And all are welcome.
Our home, wherever we find it,
Is God’s Home.
XV
We are a town by a river.
Like God’s love,
It flows through us –
And around us.
It takes us back
And it carries us forward.
It is life –
And death.
It carries us forward.
It is our source.
©Roberta Cashwell 2010
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
The Tar River Players
The Tar River Players have just published a new blog/website.
http://tarriverplayers.blogspot.com/p/shows.html
http://tarriverplayers.blogspot.com/p/shows.html
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