Monthly Archives: April 2025

With the Quakers in upstate New York

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April 18th.  You learn something new every day.  Today I learned that ‘Nazi Democrats are all low-lifes’.  This was painted on a large board outside someone’s  house on a quiet country road near Old Chatham in upstate New York.  Joseph, our host and prime organiser for our two performances in the area on Good Friday and Easter Saturday (would anyone come? I wondered.  Wouldn’t they all be on their Easter break, with family, or away visiting relatives?)…anyway, Joseph was driving us in his pickup truck (another story) to Patrick, a friend of his who, over time, has been a dancer, actor and is also a playwright – who happens to have also written a play about Hiroshima – something he’s been working on and a subject he’s been obsessed with for far longer even than myself.  Since the age of ten, he tells us.  (He’s now in his early seventies.)

Out of the truck window I see an elderly couple – who look so sweet and charming – walking up the hill past the sign.  ‘Joseph! Are they a couple of Nazi Democrats, by any chance?’

He chuckles. 

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Performing in Amish Country – (but not for the Amish).

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We leave South Bend and Notre Dame University and on Monday morning (April 14th) head for Chicago Airport – where we will fly east with all our bags and baggage.  

First class on the internal United Airlines flight is only marginally more expensive than a regular ticket – so I treat the three of us to a little more legroom (plus superior snacks) on the two hour journey and for the first – and probably last – time in my life, I sit in seat 1A: first on and first off.  A small treat for me after all the stresses and strains of dealing with my three large cases – one personal and two for the play.  

We’re met at Harrisburg Airport by the wonderful H.A. Penner, my host here previously in 2018, and Lydia, both of whom help us with our luggage into the van they’ve commandeered for three days.  We head to Lancaster County, our base for two performances in two churches – and the heart of Amish and conservative Mennonite country.  

Our hosts are Mennonites too, but they are progressive, liberal ones, with no qualms whatsoever about using cars, cellphones or electricity.  

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Sports, Religion, Sports, Peace, Sports Sports Sports…

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The huge campus of the famous US university of Notre Dame in South Bend, Indiana, is a place where Holy Cross Drive intersects with Frank Leahy Drive.  

A place where you walk past sculptures of the same Frank Leahy (a famous Notre Dame football coach), then past a statue of the fabulously named women’s basketball coach Muffet McGraw (oh, yes) and then, after a short walk, past the huge, beautiful mural known as Touchdown Jesus.

 I kid you not.  Jesus with his arms raised as if signalling a touchdown in American football.  The mural is on the north side of the impressive Hesburgh Library – and is visible from the vast Notre Dame stadium nearby.  (Sports, religion, sports…)

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The Man Who Sets The Hands of the Doomsday Clock

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So far on this tour, I’ve felt butterflies, goosebumps and now shivers down the spine.

Let me explain.  You can spend so much time in emails and phone calls and Zooms – as I have, trying to pin down a particular venue for The Mistake in different parts of the US – and then all that effort comes to nothing.  On the other hand, you can shoot off one speculative email – as I did just one month before leaving for the US – which was way too late – and get an immediate positive response and booking.  Such was Chicago.  

I had tried for months to get a performance in the Windy City to no avail. Various very promising options fell through late on – after I’d (perhaps foolishly) booked flights and Airbnbs.  But that last minute speculative email of mine was to the Chair of the Department of Physics at the University of Chicago, Peter Littlewood – to which he responded that, yes, they’d love to host us on one of the dates we were in Chicago, in the Physics Department Lecture Theatre.  I was beyond thrilled at the news.  

So…Day 7 – after treating us to a fabulous breakfast at a lovely coffeehouse in downtown sleepy Manchester, Katy and Libby waved us off with our many suitcases and we began the three hour trip back to Chicago: Manny once again at the wheel of his voluminous (it needed to be) Lincoln Navigator.  We were headed straight to the University of Chicago to set up and prepare for a 6 pm performance.  We didn’t have much time to be ‘tourists’ but we managed a quick look around.  

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‘Martin Luther King and The Mistake’

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That’s a rather bold opening hook to this second blog of our US adventure.  But I’ll explain shortly.  

April 4th – Day 2 – Jet-lag.  And a heating system in my otherwise lovely Airbnb that keeps erupting into life just when you least expect it – just when I’ve reached deep-state sleep.  Will earplugs keep the noise out? No chance.  

Okay.  So I head out on my first morning in Chicago for a big breakfast at a highly recommended cafe – Lula’s in Logan Square. That helps.  A cardamom bun to die for. Then a day full of nothing much – acclimatising, checking out where I can buy fruit, and reminding myself I’m not a tourist.

Day 3 – I’m a tourist.  Heading for the wonderful Art Institute – wanting to see the famous Seurat painting that inspired Sondheim’s Sunday In The Park With George.  On the L train, it’s rammed – jam-packed with hundreds of people. Are they also heading for the Seurat? No!  There are placards and banners galore – it’s a ‘Hands Off’ (our democracy) protest downtown and it’s going to be really big, someone on the train tells me.  We’re tempted to join them but our time is limited, so we wish them well when they all get off two stops before the Art Institute, leaving the train empty.

But the Art Institute isn’t empty. Justifiably.

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One step at a time

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Day 1 – Step 1… 5.20am up.  

Step 2… 6.50… lugging three extremely heavy suitcases downstairs to the waiting minicab which can barely squeeze them in.  The elderly driver is friendly and has a smoker’s cough.

Lots of traffic which then loosens up – like the driver’s cough.

At terminal 5, he helps me pile the three cases, a tatami mat, a silver case and my rucksack onto a pathetically small trolley.  He is again friendly on saying goodbye.

Step 3 … trying to check in all these cases with BA. And pay for the extra baggage.  As I was unable to get the cheaper rate for doing this online (a complaint many users have voiced through Tripadvisor etc) and am a bit perplexed now by the self-checking-in system at the airport, a business-like and efficient BA official offers to check the bags in for me and sort payment.  I thank her more than once for her assistance. First extra bag – £75.  Second extra bag £155.  Okay, I’d budgeted for this. She takes payment for the first bag.  

I thank her again for her help. She then says she will waive the charge on the second bag. What?!  She has softened a little – there’s even a hint of a smile. I thank her again – profusely.  And realise I have just encountered the first angel of this six week adventure.

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