For those who enjoy playing alone to those who haven’t yet tried it, I offer a little story and video.

Erwin and Marilee

Erwin was a fellow who stapled three sheets to the wind each evening before going home to his empty house, whereupon entry, the silence was deafening.  He’d predicate his homecoming on promises to engage in a quick, non-threatening conversation with himself, nothing too invasive, just a little complementary repartee.  If that went well, he’d settle into a longer, more interesting exchange over dinner, then reward himself with a favorite TV show or book before bed.  This wasn’t easy for dear Erwin, who had never learned how to enjoy the pleasure of his own company.

Unlike Erwin, Marilee’s nature mimicked her name.  She, indeed, went about her life merrily, in and out of the company of her family and friends.  She engaged in full, drama-length stage shows expressed in her living room, playing all the characters at once, talking over herself until overtaken by laughs, she lay sprawled on the floor glowing with the pleasure of her own company.

I realize Erwin and Marilee are extreme examples and that you’ll likely fall somewhere in between.  And it’s good to fall, especially into your own lap, face up, laughing like there’s no tomorrow, because you never know.  So let’s make the best of it.

One day, prompted by an urgency to play, I grabbed my video camera and waltzed into my studio, dead set on becoming a star!  Oh how I lie. In fact, I’ve never longed to be in the spotlight, nor any spot that might remotely draw attention. So don’t ask me why, in God’s name, I began making videos of myself reciting odd little writings smack dab in the middle of my studio, before an unforgiving camera that is now filled with enough footage to blackmail me and the characters I rode in on. Yet I must confess, it’s almost embarrassing how much fun I’ve had.

Still, recording the videos was one thing, watching them, another. After the initial horror, displeasure, then acceptance of seeing and hearing myself on-screen, I became intrigued, and marveled at the way I’d broken my silence – acted out instead of in.

It’s known that sharing one’s creations is as important as creating them. That must explain my compulsion to out these videos. Thus far, the fun is outweighing the potential humiliation.

Never did I think I’d have the audacity to take center stage, even alone, safe in the confines of my studio. Clearly anyone can do anything. What is it you’ve got wrapped so tight it’s unable to breathe? I’d love to hear about it.

On with the show.  (The words are below the video.)

Stone Face

Well I dragged into my apartment after an especially long day and all I could hear was the rug – something about leaves, flowers and footprints.  I didn’t know what it meant, and it was makin’ me nervous.  So I stepped around the chaos to my jerry-rigged bar and I fixed myself a drink, on the rocks, a perfect complement to the stone face I’d been wearin’ all day.  What was gettin’ me down?!

One of the most prized toys in my Playbox is my cousin Don, who’s old enough to be my father, yet in all the time I’ve known him he’s never grown up, even now, at 90. He’s the quintessential example of a person who has lived a life of play – well, he also worked, but that’s beside the point. Or maybe that IS the point. Despite working, he always made time for fun, and so we grew together, along that same path.

Truly, Don’s among the most creative people I know, as can be seen by stepping foot into his house full of toys, handmade jokes, and of course, art.

His style is whatever happens, happens – unpolished, imperfect and incredibly inventive.

He’s fabulous at capturing gestures…so graceful.

He nimbly morphs wire, clay, glass, paper, wood, useless whatnots, into utterly clever, comical, and unique statements.

I mentioned I’d like to make marionettes – he beat me to it.

Inspired by my bookworm, Don made one too. He even finished his.

Clearly I’m not the only one who loves his work.

We’ve played together a great deal over the years at his house on the beach, in his magical garage, where we’re forever kids having fun.

I periodically take immensely embarrassing pictures of myself for laughs and for family’s eyes only. Although everyone’s amused by them, Don has the audacity to display them proudly and prominently in his home. We’re sincerely each other’s biggest fans. The Playbox wouldn’t be complete without him. Here’s a little something I wrote about us.

Our Story

There once was a boy with a creative bean up his ass,
who never much cared whether the thing would pass,
yet when he moved to the beach and squatted in the sand,
the bean was squeezed out, and burrowed deep in the land,
providing a perfect place for the boy to play.

Along came a girl with a creative bean in her ear,
which made her lean in so she could better hear,
until one day she bent totally in half,
hence the bean fell out and rolled down her calf,
planting itself at her feet so every day she’d remember to play.

When boy met girl, a few years in,
damn if they weren’t introduced as kin.
From the onset they’d been sharing genes,
now they looked at each other and screamed,
“Hey! Matching beans!”

And so it went from that day on,
the girl named Soozer and the boy named Don,
were forever connected by their creative whims
his often comical, hers sporting odd limbs.

To each other they were a huge inspiration
always in awe of each other’s imagination.

If there was one thing they’d repeatedly say
it’s, “Damn we’re glad we were made this way.”