Awards - Tonys 2013 - Musicals - Kinky Boots

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KINKY BOOTS

Synopsis from IMDb

Charles Price may have grown up with his father in the family shoe business, but he never thought that he would take his father's place. Yet, the untimely death of his father places him in that position, only to learn that Price & Sons Shoes is failing. While in despair at his failed attempts to save the business, Charles has a chance encounter with the flamboyant drag queen cabaret singer, Lola. Her complaints about the inadequate footwear for her work combined with one of Charles' ex-employees, Lauren, leads to a suggestion to change the product to create a desperate chance to save the business: make men's fetish footwear. Lola is convinced to be their footwear designer and the transition begins. Now this disparate lot must struggle at this unorthodox idea while dealing both the prejudice of the staff, Lola's discomfort in the small town and the selfish manipulation of Charles' greedy fiancée who cannot see the greater good in Charles' dream. 

Price & Sons, located in Northampton, is a fourth generation owned and operated family business specializing in quality shoes for men. The heir apparent to the company, Charlie Price, is not planning on taking over the company but rather move to London with his fiancée, Nicola Marsden, both who want to get as far away from the company and the close-mindedness of Northampton as possible. Charlie's plans change when Harold Price, Charlie's father and current company president, suddenly dies. In dealing with immediate company issues, Charlie learns that the primary contract on which the company had been working has long expired - something that Harold hid from everyone - meaning that there is no work and little prospect for work with their current line of shoes. Under the circumstances, Charlie feels he has no other option but to lay off several of his employees. Instead, Nicola wants Charlie to sell the business; she even finds a buyer, a property developer who wants to convert the factory into upscale condos. But one of Charlie's employees, a young woman named Lauren who would be one of those laid off, believes Charlie would be taking the easy way out by either of these options and that he is not looking out for the interests of the company's loyal and hard working employees. She suggests he change the business model and create another line of shoes in a niche market. Upon a chance meeting with a relatively large drag queen named Lola, Charlie comes up with the idea of specializing in fashionable women's boots made for the general heft of drag queens. There are many obstacles to converting the business to this new model including meshing fashionable design with the required functionality of the boots, and having a relatively conservative town, business and employees into supporting this change, especially with their target market being "unfamiliar" people such as Lola. With Lola's assistance, these changes are both advanced and hindered. Charlie believes that to make the company truly successful in this new model, he has to show the boots during the Milan fashion season using the target market, drag queens, as the models. Showing in Milan takes money, money which Charlie doesn't have. But more importantly, Charlie has to overcome some internal issues with himself to be successful in this venture.

Memorials Not Just for the Dead, but for the Harm

I just found out that there are two half sized Viet Nam Memorials that travel around the country.  One of them is now in Malden, MA  until June 10th.  Here is a link about it.

http://artery.wbur.org/2013/06/09/vietnam-moving-wall

This is a “miniature” (half sized) of the original Viet Nam Memorial in Washington, D.C. that was designed by Maya Lin.

This is a remarkable monument and deserves to be seen by everyone.  I’m glad to know that there are two copies that travel around giving even more people an opportunity to view it.  It is remarkable because it is based on memorializing the individual soldiers, specifically those who died, rather than honoring some general on a horse or in full regalia.  This monument honors those that deserve to be honored.  And the way that it honors them is most effective.  One cannot help but be struck dumb when in the presence of this memorial.

But I would still like a memorial to do more.  The reason why people are against the war is not just because of the deaths, but of the price of war.  Not the price in American dollars just as not the price in American servicemen.  For every dead serviceman (or servicewoman) there are many more that are harmed in some way – emotionally, financially, etc.  How many dead servicepeople had a bereft spouse?  How many children will no longer have a father or mother?  How many parents saw their child die before their own death?  How many people lost a good friend?  These harms should be considered in the cost of war.

And the cost to the victims (I will not call them the enemy because most of them were not enemies) on the other side?  Such as in the Iraq war.  Over 100,000 died because of our “shock and awe” bombs.  These people were not our enemies.  And of their deaths, how many widows were created?  Or widowers?  Or parents?  Or children?

And what about the social cost of war?  How many people lost their jobs and could no longer afford to provide for their family?  How many people lost their belongings in a devastated society with no means to replace them?  How many people lost all hope for their future?

More than the dead should be memorialized regarding a war.  All of the harm that is caused all of the victims should be memorialized as well.  But where is such a memorial but in the poetry of poets like Walt Whitman and others?

THE TEST THAT CHANGED MY LIFE

The Test That Changed My Life

Feb.  July 7^th = 50.  After applying the principles of interpolation that I had learned in statistics, I figured that the number 50 would probably mean that I would be called up in the first draft lottery in February, 1970, plus or minus three days with a confidence level of 92%.

It was the Fall of 1969 and the fall of my dreams as it was the first year of the military draft lottery.  The need to draft young people to fight in Viet Nam had become so great that the draft boards, in an effort to appear impartial, had randomly picked calendar dates for the year and assigned them sequential numbers.  These dates represented the birth dates of draftees and would let young people know when during the year they could expect their number to be up.  July 7^th, my birthday, was assigned the sequential number 50 and so I figured I would be drafted around the last week in February.

I was going to college in Ohio that Fall and I received word from my local draft board in Jacksonville, Florida to come in for the dreaded draft physical.  I tested the system by submitting a request to have my physical in Ohio since that was where I was attending school and I no longer had any family or other reason to go to Florida.  Their approval gave me a one month’s reprieve for the physical.

I immediately dropped out of school and with no money, I got a ride with a student to Chicago where I had a friend.  I stayed with him while I went to as many draft counseling centers as I could to try to come up with a way to fail my physical.  But I was told that at least 80% of the inductees wanted to fail and unless I had reams of medical reports indicating a long history of a very serious problem, the best way to beat the draft was to flee to Canada.

At the end of my reprieve, I hitchhiked from Chicago to southern Ohio just in time for the physical.  On the selected day, I met a group of other boys assigned the same fate and we traded stories in the bus on our way to the center in Cincinnati.  One boy had been on speed for 14 days straight with minimal sleep hoping that his blood pressure would keep him from being drafted.  Another told of how he would climb on top of his dresser, barefoot, and jump down.  He would do this over and over again hoping that his fallen arches would mean that he couldn’t do the necessary marching and so he would fail.  And I remembered hearing the stories while in Chicago of boys who would get a revolver and literally shoot themselves in their foot.  The bus ride was filled with the nervous laughter of boys describing not only their quiet but also unquiet acts of desperation.

After assembling in the main hall, I was surprised to hear my name called out along with three other names to go into a side room.  I was even more surprised when I saw these other three carrying duffel bags.  And I panicked as I listened to an officer snap the instructions of boarding a bus to go to boot camp in South Carolina.  After telling them that there must have been some mistake as I was there for my physical, not to go to boot camp, they checked their papers and agreed.  By this time, all of the others who were there for their physical had already gone through the first of several exam stations.  So I went to the first station alone, and filled out the form regarding medical history.  While filling out the form, I checked off ear problems, knee problems, and ankle problems – all with no supporting documents.

I then rushed through another station and caught up with the rest so I was last in line.  We went through the motions of turning our head and coughing even though the examiner was already three boys down the line by the time we coughed.  The swiftness of the examiner as we “bent and spread” convinced me of the superficiality of the entire examination process and so I started planning my escape to Canada while in the line waiting for the hearing test.

The hearing test consisted of sitting in a soundproof room with five others, putting on a set of earphones, and then turning a dial to the left if we didn’t hear the tone, and to the right if we did hear the tone.  Of course they knew that everyone would want to claim that they couldn’t hear the tone so they advised/warned us that the different tones were set in such a way that they could determine if a person could consistently not hear a tone or if they were faking it.  Also, anyone who failed the test once was required to take the test a second time which would insure consistency of one’s responses or dire consequences if the tests were inconsistent.

Being the last person in line, I wound up entering the room by myself while the rest of the line had progressed to the next station.  I put the earphones on and although I’ll admit to being rather liberal in my turns to the left, I wasn’t radical.  The day before the exam, I had developed a boil in my right ear but it hadn’t affected my normal hearing very much.  But evidently when the earphones were on, they pressed my ear against this boil so that I honestly couldn’t hear the tones I was supposed to hear.  After looking at my results, and evidently looking at its consistency, and realizing that I was already one station behind everyone else, they indicated I had failed it and didn’t make me take it over again.

Finally, at the last station, an examiner saw that I had checked off ear problems on my medical history and saw that I had royally and gloriously failed the hearing exam.  He then looked in my ear, saw the boil, and evidently didn’t like what he saw.  I was never so glad to hear that I had failed a test as I was that day.  It was enough to make me wish that I believed in a god that I could thank.

That night, my girlfriend and I took the last $18.00 we had together and went out for dinner to celebrate.  We celebrated by setting our wedding date to be February 7^th, 1970.

HELPING MY MOTHER THROUGH HER DYING PROCESS

My mother had been bed-ridden for five years after suffering from heart congestion and five cardiac arrests in one night.  But her mind was sharp and since she was in a great nursing home, our times together were quality times.  Then her systems started to fail her one by one.  After a while, the doctors and nurses said that if my siblings wanted to see her while still alive, they should arrive immediately.  They came and we would all gather around her bed and talk with her and often sing songs.  She could no longer eat or drink and so we took turns putting ice on her lips in hopes of giving her some moisture as she had said she did not want to be hooked up to an IV to prolong the process.  But her mind was still sharp, and she was talking about dying and even looking forward to it. 

She explained to us that it wasn’t a matter that she didn’t want to eat – but rather that she couldn’t.  She had lost her swallow reflex and she knew that she would probably die by starvation.  She said she had heard of people dying that way and always thought it would be a terrible way to go, but she told us that it wasn’t bad at all.  She was in no pain and she was actually looking forward to dying with us around her.  I was able to relate this part of the story in a Letter to the Editors during the time of Terry Schiavo hoping to convince people that it truly isn’t an onerous way to die.

After the next weekend, my siblings had to return to their jobs and family as there was no indication how much longer my mother would be able to hold on.  Then, around Tuesday of that week, she started to recover.  No one knows how or why, she just recovered.  She was still bed-ridden and she had her ups and downs.  And her ups weren’t as high as before and her downs might have been lower.  But she continued from February to December when her systems started to shut down again.

But this time, she wasn’t talking about it like in February.  Finally, around the middle of the month, I asked her if she didn’t think she was going through the same process a before.  She said she assumed she probably was but then I asked her why she didn’t feel free to talk about it as before.  She explained that she didn’t want to die around the Christmas holidays for fear of it spoiling our holidays.  I was thankful for the opportunity to tell her that I had just listened to a program (on NPR) about people going through the dying process and how for some it is an easy voyage, while for others it is a difficult voyage.  I told her how the difference seemed to be in the concept of “Letting Go”.  The patient needed to feel free to let go.  But I also told her that the relatives also need to learn the concept of letting go.  Often, a person will recognize they are dying and will mention it.  Immediately, the family members will chime in and over-ride her and say that “No, you’re going to make it.  You’re going to overcome this.”  So while a patient wants to talk about going through this dying process, they are often not allowed to.  And so refusing to “let go” on the part of either the patient or the patient’s family may make the voyage even more difficult.

I told her that as far as her family was concerned, we had felt ready to have her die back in February.  If there was anything we felt needed to be done before she died, we had had plenty of time to prepare for it.  So it wouldn’t be something that took us by surprise and set us back. 

The next day, when the nurse came in to dress her, my mother told the nurse “I’m ready to die now”, and she did – two days later.

I was so glad that I could be a positive force in my mother’s dying process.  So many people have so many tragic stories of their loved ones dying.  I feel blessed that my story is such a positive one.

David Kimball

A FUNCTIONAL ARTIST'S LAMENT

I have been in the business of developing computer applications since the beginning of my career.  (And yes, since the beginning of computers since I actually worked at one time on the IBM 705's which were the first generation tube computers.)   When PC's were first coming with database capabilities (DB2), I worked exceedingly hard on a specific program to process many types of budget data and provide management with many data analytic reports.  Then, after a long holiday weekend, I came in and found out that my manager had come in over the weekend and made some tweaks to it mangling it beyond all recognition.  I resisted the urge to get physically violent with him, and instead sulked in my shell for a period of time not to have exceeded 40 days and 40 nights.  After returning to this alien civilization, I consoled myself by writing this poem.

I probably should backtrack just a little here.  People usually think that when I develop an application, it is very left brain oriented and not a creative process.  But it is.  I start with nothing, Then I expose myself to all the angles of the system being modeled.  Then I start to have an idea.  Then I build on that idea until it is something I can actually see (or at least see its output).  Then I tweak it and fine tune it, and mold it, and sculpt it.  Until finally I have something of which I can be proud of.  Because it is something which is designed to be used, like a clock, and not just observed, like a painting, I consider it Functional Art.  

A Functional Artist’s Lament

O pure virgin idea.

Straight from the womb of my mind

Where there was nothing, there was suddenly something.

Springing from the mother of necessity,

In union with beauty and form,

              I conceived you.

Gestated after much labor of love,

You were delivered with all pride and joy,

I, the ultimate Pygmalion, then built you,

I molded you, I sculptured you, I fine-tuned you.

I observed you critically and, performing revisions tediously,

              I fashioned you.

Like a debutante, I presented you to the world.

In setting you up on a pedestal for all to behold your graces,

              I adored you.

Alas, my virtuous creation has been prostituted.

Others, with ignoble needs,

Have used it for their own short-sighted means.

They have perverted its original intentions.

One transfigures the appearance so its character is obliterated.

Another mutilates the function so its original intent becomes unknowable.

Another transmorgrifies its cleverness so its efficiency is hopelessly lost.

Another alters the grace so its style has become pedestrian.

Another suppresses the versatility making its flexibility an irremediable mess.

And yet another degenerates its flair rendering it mediocre at best.

And on and on it goes.

After multiple perverted encounters of this worst kind,

Others look at this pitiable creature,

Wag their unknowing heads,

And shun this post-beauteous creation

              As if it were a homeless derelict

              With open festering sores.

And so I take my once beloved

And place it mournfully on a darkened shelf,

Where it will be used – nevermore.

David Kimball

THE PRINCESS AND THE KITTEN

Once upon a time, there was a Little Princess.  She would play around the house all day with her toys, and watch movies on the TV, and had lots of fun – all by herself.  But sometimes she wished she had a playmate.  So one day, in order to have a playmate, she got a little fuzzy black and white kitten.  She loved this little kitten and would spend hours a day playing with the kitten.

One day, while she was watching TV, she saw a television show where someone had trained cats to do many tricks.  On cat would walk on top of a rolling barrel.  One cat would actually walk a tightrope.  And one cat would jump through a hoop of fire.  But the trick that caught the attention of the Little Princess was one small, tiny cat, perhaps a kitten, who would roll over at the trainer’s command.  He would move his hand in a circle, and the kitten would roll over.

The Princess thought this was a neat trick and so she made up her mind that she was going to have her own little kitten roll over at her command.  So she picked up the kitten from where it was sleeping on its warm, soft bed, and the Little Princess carried it into the middle of the living room floor.  She rolled her hand around in a circle just like the trainer on TV had done but the kitten just looked at her.  Then the Little Princess tried telling the kitten to roll over, but the kitten just leaned against the Little Princess’ leg.  She tried over and over again to move her hand, and to tell the kitten to roll over.  Then the Little Princess ever grabbed hold of the kitten and pushed it down onto its side and then tried to roll the kitten over.  But the kitten just stood back up, looked at the Little Princess, and shook itself. 

The Little Princess was getting frustrated.  It only wanted the kitten to do something simple, but it wouldn’t do it.  The more she tried to get the kitten to roll over, the more the kitten just looked at her.  She was getting more and more frustrated until she almost could feel her wanting to shove and push the kitten for not doing what she wanted.  So the Little Princess decided she had better stop pushing the kitten.  So the Little Princess had learned long ago that the best thing she could do when she felt frustrated like this was to make herself a peanut butter sandwich.  So she went out to the kitchen, got the bread out, spread on piece with the peanut butter.  Then, realizing that no one was watching her, she put a generous amount of jelly of the other slice of bread.  Then she picked up to sandwich and enjoyed her peanut butter sandwich so much.

She was feeling better until she came back into the living room where the kitten had curled into a big furry ball.  The Little Princess and petted the kitten and started feeling frustrated that the kitten hadn’t learned to roll over.  Just then, the little kitten rolled over.  The eyes of the Little Princess got very wide.  Then the little kitten rolled over again.  Then the kitten looked into the eyes of the Little Princess.

Then the Little Princess realized what the kitten was trying to tell her.  The kitten was teaching her that she should never “expect” certain behavior.  We are only frustrated when we have expectations which are not met.  If we never had expectations, we would never be frustrated and we wouldn’t have to eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.  It’s okay to have hopes because if our hopes don’t work out, we can deal with that.  But when we expect others to meet up with our expectations, we are only making ourselves vulnerable to feeling frustrated.  The Little Princess kept repeating to herself, “No expectations – no frustrations” over and over again.  The Little Princess promised herself that she would put this maxim to use with her Daddy the next time she was frustrated with him. 



ON BEING A GLOBAL CITIZEN

ON BEING A GLOBAL CITIZEN

I don’t know your political stance and I’m not trying to convince you.  I’m only telling you my experiences and where I was coming from.

Many people will say that 9/11 was a watershed experience for them – that their reality was transformed so that they didn’t look at the world the same way after 9/11 as they did before then.  My watershed experience wasn’t then, but it was later – when the US attacked Iraq and murdered over 100,000 men, women, and children with their “shock and awe” bombs.  And this was only a couple of weeks after more than 5 Million people demonstrated in the streets in the largest demonstration in the world for all history.  And the only recognition those 5 Million demonstrators got was the President’s social finger.  I knew then that we did not live in a democracy.  No other democratic country could have a demonstration that size and be totally ignored followed by such illegal international killings that were unprovoked. 

But rather than being angry and upset with just the administration (Bush, et al), I was upset with the whole of society that let him get away with the murderous acts without any accountability.  I was as upset with the society as I was the administration.  But I also knew that just being upset doesn’t accomplish anything.  It was then that I decided I did not want to be considered an American citizen and that instead I would be a Global Citizen. 

But then I asked myself what it would mean to be a Global Citizen?  I hadn’t seen any “definitions” of it so I began to do some reading.  One book I read was about Global Citizenship and was talking about the United Nations and the work of the NGOs (Non Government Organizations).  I realized then that there was a lot that we in the US do not know about the United Nations and these NGOs.  Almost always, when we think of the UN, we only think of the work with the government sector – not the civil sector.  But the work of the UN Agencies, UNESCO, UNICEF, WHO, etc. do a tremendous amount of good with the civil sector. 

I then saw an opportunity to take a series of six or seven workshops and become certified through the United Nations in Reconciliation Leadership.  I wasn’t sure what Reconciliation was going to do for me and my life but I viewed this as an opportunity to get to know the UN from the inside, so I signed up.  Several of these weekend workshops were held at the UN and so I found myself going there.  I found a hostel right around the corner from the UN where it only cost $75 a night.  After several visits, I became very familiar with the UN, especially the UN bookstore, the meditation room, and took the tour several times – often with friends who had never been to the UN before.  I also discovered that the Reconciliation Leaders certification was a good tool to develop leadership skills and that although the reconciliation aspects dealt with areas in conflict (like Bosnia, or the Philippines), the same principles applied for conflict management in our interpersonal lives and even in our personal lives.  We are often experiencing conflict internally and we need to develop skillsets for resolving those conflicts – both internal and interpersonal.  We all are exposed to spousal abuse, child abuse, peer abuse, elder abuse, etc. and one doesn’t need to be a full time social worker to find it helpful to have developed some skills in dealing with these conflicts either as a participant or as a third party independent intermediary.  And we seldom think of developing skills for dealing with our own personal internal conflicts – but it is a good experience to do that.

While at the UN, I discovered that every year they had an annual DPI/NGO weeklong conference.  (Department of Public Information and Non Government Organizations).  This was the marriage of the collaborative leadership within the UN and representatives of the more than 25,000 NGOs (as represented in CONGO – the Congress of NGOs).  During this weeklong conference, there would be speakers of international acclaim, as well as many roundtable discussions, and special events on that year’s theme.  I asked around until I found a non-profit organization that allowed me to go as their representative and so I attended just to observe and listen.  I was probably the only one there that was there really as just an individual and not a representative.  The first year I went, the theme was based on the Millennium Development Goals (MDGs) and the progress around the world that the various NGOs were making.  I think the theme the second year was the work of the NGOs with women around the world.  I found it fascinating to find out about all these things being done and no one in our society was even aware of this unless they happened to be in a participating non-profit organization (like Oxfam here in Boston).  I found myself trying to promote the work of the MDGs through the NGOs at different events locally.  I set up a table on the UN’s work with AIDS at the local high school when they had a performance of the play “Angels in America”.  I also set up table displays of the work of the UN and the MDGs at other local events like Girl Scouts, peace rallies, etc.  I even wrote a story and prepared a presentation that I would give to Rotary groups or whatever to educate people on the MDGs.

One time, while returning from an event at the UN, I had stopped in their bookstore and purchased a book about the UN’s work in the business sector with the Global Compact.  This is the promotion of the principles of Triple Bottom Line Accountability which later has become known as Sustainability.  This is holding companies, corporations, and especially transnational corporations accountable not only for financial success/progress, but also environmental progress and also Corporate Social Responsibility (CSR) progress.  (Hence, Triple Bottom Line (TBL) accountability).  I read this book on the train on my way home and realized that this was all about business processes which is my forte. 

It seems that Europe and other places in the Far East were much more advanced in Sustainability than the US was.  The next time I was at the UN, I stopped in at the Global Compact center and loaded myself up with all kinds of material.  I studied all about it and then volunteered to evaluate the annual Sustainability reports from the companies participating in the Global Compact for the UN database of Sustainability reports.  I found out that Brazil was way ahead of the US in Sustainability and also economic development.  I set myself up as a mentor for local non-profits who wanted to participate in this program  but didn’t know how and didn’t have the expertise to develop the program internally.  I found out that the main way that Sustainability is measured is using the standards as presented by the Global Reporting Initiative (GRI) so I paid my own way to go to a week long course in Ohio and became certified.  Later, I wormed my way into a week long course to become certified as a management consultant in Global Compact Reporting in Vienna, Austria – again, by paying my own way.  This was a course for management consultants working in Developing Countries – mostly the countries that split off from the USSR and also China.  I was the only American there and again, I was the only one there on my own and not representing a company or organization. 

I also set myself up as a mentor to a group here in the Boston area called Net Impact.  These are MBA students and graduates who have, or will have MBAs and are looking for opportunities to pursue a career in Sustainability here in the US.  (Sustainability has become much more de rigueur now in the US.)  They weren’t necessarily involved in the Global Compact, but I would work with them to educate them about the Global Compact and how to assist a company to become established in the UN program for Sustainability. 

All of this has led me to realize that one doesn’t have to be involved in these types of activities for their job.  I have been working in Raytheon full time all this time (until last September).  On the local level I have led a Conversation Café every month for a couple of years.  Although this did not focus on the UN, nor on Global Citizenship, there were times when I could interject some of these principles.  One of our best conversations was on the theme of “What are we doing to prepare our children for the world?  And to prepare the world for our children?”  I remember one of the most poignant questions asked was how to protect our children from assuming a materialistic world view when everything around them is based on it.  The response was to take the children on a vacation to a developing country rather than Disneyworld.  It doesn’t have to be to take them to one of the least developed countries, but even to a developing country like Mexico, or Brazil.  To let them see a culture that is not so materialistically based. 

I participate in blogs both in writing blogs as well as responding to others’ blogs and I find ample opportunities to express the values that I have established based on being a Global Citizen.  I have found that by stating I am neither a Republican nor a Democrat, nor a liberal nor a conservation, but a Global Citizen, people will listen to me.  They realize I am talking from own reflections and not just stating a party line that they have heard before and know how to counter already. 

I am also a member of the National Coalition for Dialogue and Deliberation (NCDD) in trying to promote dialogue when dealing with issues instead of presentations of spin talks or debates.  I have found that the best way to start a dialogue on an issue is to ask the question “How is this handled in other countries?”  We in he US are so provincial that we don’t realize that the same issues we experience are also being experienced in other countries.  By knowing how these issues are being handled elsewhere, we can use that as a starting point and then discuss the pros and the cons and build from there.  I find that discussing how these issues are approached in other countries is a good starting point for constructive dialogue about politics, health care, transportation, gun laws, abortions, defense spending, secularism, social safety nets, corporate salaries, unions, etc. etc.  All of the contentious issues where usually each person present their already established views and doesn’t really listen to the others and so nothing is learned.  Explaining them how these issues are handled in other countries almost always leads to a learning experience. 

David Kimball