The last few months for me have been a non-stop roller-coaster of rehearsals, auditions, performances and writing deadlines. I just finished the run of The FIREHOUSE THEATRE CABARET, a fast-paced, fun variety show at the Firehouse Theatre Project, which I had the privilege to both Direct AND appear in.

Now, at the same time I was Directing and acting in The FTP CABARET, I was also Directing and Acting in a touring show for Theatre IV-- which I also wrote-- titled THE AIR WE SHARE. The show focused on alternative transportation, conservation, and environmental stewardship. Co-Produced by GRTC and Ridefinders (The local transit company), THE AIR WE SHARE was a rousing success. The show visited about 80 area schools and equipped students and their families with different tools to conserve energy and reduce our dependence on non-renewable fossil fuels.

The run of THE AIR WE SHARE was parallel to the run of the FTP CABARET, so on most weekdays I would get up at 6am, do two THE AIR WE SHARE shows, come home, take a nap, eat, then go to the Firehouse Theatre for an evening performance of the FTP CABARET. It was exhausting work, and I'm still kind of 'Zapped' from it all. To top it all off, my pal Eddie Garcia was in from LA filming a Movie, and he crashed on our couch for a month while Jennie studied feverishly to pass her Personal Training Certification Exam (She passed, by the way, and now she's kicking my BUTT!!) Throw in the two dogs and two cats in our small apartment, and the last few months have been eerily similar to the scene in that Marx Brothers Movie where twenty people fill a small Stateroom on a steamship. Pure Chaos.

Yet, I wouldn't trade it for the world. I'm really proud of the work I've been a part of recently. One of the most exciting parts about my new relationship with GRTC just arrived in my mailbox. See, out of the touring show experience arose the opportunity to write a comic book based on the TEAM RIDEFINDERS characters which GRTC has been pushing as part of their 'Clean Air Hero' campaign. I wrote the script for the comic book and lucked out when Pat Godfrey, owner/operator of Velocity Comics agreed to do the art work. I just received a copy of the book, and it looks great!!

My next writing project will be the book and lyrics for Theatre IV's tour THE BOY WHO CRIED WOLF with Julie Fulcher penning the music. I'm excited to be collaborating with Julie again-- we worked together on the 2003 premiere of THE JUNGLE BOOK, a musical which Theatre IV toured around the country and Barksdale put on it's Mainstage. Julie always has fantastic ideas, and her spirit and humor make her a joy to work with.

This week I also started rehearsals for GUYS AND DOLLS at Barksdale Theatre I'm playing Nathan Detroit, a role I had a lot of fun with eight years ago at Swift Creek Mill Theatre in Colonial Heights. I'm really enjoying the cast camaraderie, and Director Patti D'Beck's energy is a renewable resource. Girlfriend could power a small town. She's awesome, and she brings some serious Broadway Credits to Barksdale.

Meanwhile, Director James Ricks has been going full steam ahead with preparations for our production of Richard III at Henley Street Theatre The casting is complete, and I will say that now that this thing is going to happen, I'm starting to feel that trepidation that one must feel before one jumps out of an airplane. It is going to be hard work, this one, but I'm really looking forward to us pulling off something special, provocative, and unique.

On the athletic front, Jennie and I will be running the Richmond XTERRA on June 14th at Brown's Island. Jennie will be doing the XTERRA 10k (6.2 Miles) and I'll be doing the XDURO 21k (13.1 Miles). They are both Trail Races, with a high degree of challenging obstacles in the summer heat. I'm still looking towards the NORTH FACE ENDURANCE CHALLENGE 50-Miler in the fall, and the XDURO will be my first trail race since the Sixth Grade. Color me excited!!

Well, that's it for now-- I should be blogging with a little more regularity on things like sports, movies, music and life pretty soon. I'll have more stuff coming more often, so stay tuned!!

Best,

Scott Wichmann

"I can add colors to the chameleon,
change shape with Proteus for advantages,
And set the murderous Machiavel to school.

Can I do this, and cannot get a crown?
Tut, were it further off, I'll pluck it down."

I remember November of 1997. I was working as a day laborer for my cousin's construction business in Leesburg, VA. I toiled from sunup to sundown, laying bricks and doing spot-work with a group of migrant workers who didn't speak much English. I was reading a lot of Shakespeare at the time, and I kept practicing the above speech of Richard's from Henry VI, Part 3, Act III Scene ii. Over and over again. The guys I worked with just kind of stared at me. Either it was the language barrier, or I must have really sucked.

At the time, I had just finished a run as 'Northrup' at Busch Gardens Williamsburg, and I was staying with my cousin to plot my next move and make (very little) money. I was also sending out headshots and resumes all over the place, but no one was hiring me, much less inviting me to audition for anything. It was truly 'The Winter of my discontent.' I felt like I couldn't get arrested if I tried. Things weren't going my way. A production of Cabaret-- that I was almost involved with-- became extended as a tour, and eventually moved from Sheffield MA to Boston, netting the non-union cast members their AEA Memberships, while I looked on enviously from a construction site in Virginia. Bad times.

Desperate to do some good work, I sent a headshot/resume to Shakespeare & Company in Lenox, MA, one town over from my hometown of Pittsfield. I placed a follow-up call to see if they got my materials, only to be told by someone there:

"I'm sorry, but we don't hire any actors who haven't completed our training course."

"Well, excuse ME!" I thought. I felt stonewalled at every turn, frustrated, and eager to prove myself. I was renting Shakespeare movies at night-- Olivier's 'Hamlet,' all the Kenneth Branaugh films, from Henry V to Hamlet to Much Ado-- and digging ditches and moving equipment by day. I bought a book of all of Shakespeare's plays and immersed myself in them, chewing up speeches and dreaming of playing everything in the canon while I cleaned up during walk-thrus of overpriced houses made for rich people I would never meet. I was very unhappy. All I wanted was to be taken seriously as an actor. I wanted to do good work in an environment where I felt comfortable and welcome. And I wanted to play many roles in Shakespeare's works, and I wanted to do them justice.

Eventually, I landed in Richmond, VA. I soon began a great working relationship with many theatres in town, including The Richmond Shakespeare Festival. Before I knew it, I had a job playing 'Malvolio' in a tour of Twelfth Night where I started dating my 'Olivia,' a sweet gal by the name of Jennifer Meharg, who is now my wife. As I write this almost 11 years later, I have added to my Shakespeare credits: Don Pedro in Much Ado, Mercutio in Romeo and Juliet, The Gravedigger in Hamlet, Stephano in The Tempest, Bottom in Midsummer (Twice!!) and Grumio in The Taming of the Shrew.

Quite a lineup for a guy who just a few short years prior was told he'd have to take classes in order to play with the other kids, no? Looking back, it is quite a mix. I played the statesman, the warrior, the jester, the death-dealer, the villain, the Ass (TWICE!!) and the Clown. Of course, all along, there was still one role I was dying to play. The character whose speeches I muttered under my breath as I carried a wheelbarrow full of bricks beside a tired old Guatemalan man who was probably wishing I would just shut up. One role that I always felt would combine aspects of all of the great ones. One role of which I always said, "I've got to do this someday, and do it WELL."

The role I wanted to do most of all?

Richard III.

It has often been called 'The Character Actor's Hamlet.' A tour-de force role that makes physical, vocal and emotional demands on anyone who attempts it. Some of the best actors in the world have thrown themselves into it. Burbage. Olivier. Barrymore. Ian Holm. Ron Cook. Anthony Sher. Al Pacino. Robert Lindsay. Ian McKellan. Plus countless others who aren't household names, but whose artistic lives have surely been made more frustratingly wonderful by their time spent hacking through the 'Thorny Wood' of Richard's 'Inductions Dangerous.' Here in Richmond, the fantastic actor Rick Brandt danced with the crooked-backed 'Ultimate Bad Guy' in a 2003 Richmond Shakespeare Production, to sparkling notices.

Now, thanks to James Ricks, Alex Previtera and The Henley Street Theatre Company, I'll finally get my chance. I just hope I'm up to the task.

This fall, just in time for the 2008 Election cycle, I will attempt to bring Richard, Duke of Gloucester back to life under the direction of James Ricks at the brand new Henley Street Theatre Company. Director James Ricks and Artistic Director Alex Previtera, are really enthusiastic about bringing this production to the Richmond Theatre Audience.

James Ricks has perhaps the most tireless work ethic I have ever seen. His passion for this project has been unbelievable. James has spent almost a year and a half laying the groundwork and honing in on just what he wants this production to say, while finding a suitable home for it to grow. Well, after a lengthy search, Henley Street is the place. And we couldn't be happier about that.

I've known James Ricks for about two years now, since we worked together on SCAPINO!  James is a real gentleman-- an incredibly fun and funny guy to be around-- and, for real, my boy is Wicked Smahhht. He also likes my Mac N' Cheese. At least I think he does.

I was able to see the fantastic Richmond Shakespeare Company production of Richard II that James directed last October, and I was blown away by his incredibly clear and passionate storytelling. The urgency and electricity of Shakespeare's language came to life with vitality and clarity. I look forward to working with him, and one thing is for certain: If I want to do well, I'd better do my freaking homework.

James' vision for communicating this classic story is fresh, original, first-rate, and above all TIMELY. The conversation this production should spark-- a lively discussion about power and media manipulation-- is going to be reeeeeally interesting.

I look forward to the challenge of finally playing Richard III, and I thank Alex Previtera and the Henley Street Theatre Company for their continuing mission to bring vibrant reinterpretations of classic plays to Richmond audiences. I think that 'Richard III' will be something very special.

"I have set my life upon a cast,
And I will stand the hazard of the die!!"
-R III, Act V Scene v

Richard III opens September 26th, 2008 and runs through October 18th, 2008 at Henley Street Theatre Company. Details will be available soon at www.Henleystreettheatre.org.

Somewhere, Ben Bates is grinning ear-to-ear.

It's difficult to write about the events of last night's Super Bowl. The months leading up to it, for me as a diehard New England Patriots fan, had been a non-stop whirlwind of emotion. This has been a football season like no other; A very special and memorable one. It is easy to overlook that right now. In the aftermath of what is surely one of the greatest Super Bowl upsets of all time, a lot of Pats fans have thrown up their hands as if to say "Aww Crap!! The entire season is a waste."

Not me.

Ever watch your favorite baseball team's pitcher try and throw a no-hitter? It's an intense, harrowing experience. You realize something special is happening, and you agonize over every pitch, every two-strike count, every ball put in play. You're literally on the edge of your seat, taking special care not to alter or veer from your game-watching routine. Maybe you have a favorite seat (I do) a favorite hat (I do) and a favorite beverage (I do) which accompanies the game-watching experience. It's exhausting. But when your team comes through-- like the Red Sox did in preserving rookie Clay Bucholz's no-hitter this past summer-- (Not to mention that little World Series They WON!!) the emotional payoff is indescribable. It's weird; You almost feel as though you affected the outcome in some small way because you concentrated so hard, maybe you wore your lucky unwashed-in-two-months jersey, or text messaged the same people during the game... Maybe a legion of Sox fans affected the 'Quantum field' or something. OR, maybe a talented bunch of professional athletes achieved something through hard work and dedication... Whatever. Semantics. The point is, when you're a fan, a TRUE fan-- you pour your heart and soul out for your team. You live and die with every pitch, every bounce of the ball. Especially when something special, like the aforementioned no-hitter, is unfolding.

For me, this past Patriots season was like watching a Five-month no-hitter develop. Along the way, my Pats set new records for scoring; Caused a media firestorm when they got busted for spying on the New York Jest-- err, Jets-- with video cameras (even though a Jets employee was removed from the second deck of Gilette Stadium in Foxboro last season for almost the exact same offense. whatever. I'm not in the least bit bitter at the total disinterest the media showed that wrinkle in the story); They pissed off every other fan base with their horrifying penchant for playing sixty minutes of football; Pulled off a steal of a deal with the hated Raiders for the rights to malcontent wideout Randy Moss, who had a career year AND finally became a solid citizen until being accused of assaulting a woman in Florida during the playoffs. Oops.; And I drank the 'Kool Aid' as the Pats basically became the galactic Empire (Complete with Hooded Sith Lord Head Coach!! FULLY POSEABLE!), while turning the opposition's escalating verbal jabs into what Bobby Boucher from the movie 'The WaterBoy' would call "Tacklin' Fuel."

And for nearly five months, they didn't lose a game. FIVE MONTHS. They took all comers, defending Super Bowl Champs, playoff teams, also-rans, and yes, even the lowly Jets and their no-good-rat-fink-head-coach-Eric Mangini.

In the wake of the Red Sox' World Series Championship, It became an obsession for me to see the Patriots go for a perfect 19-0 Championship season. The run of good fortune bestowed on us New England Fans-- in all sports-- seemed so unreal, so absolutely fantastic. I'm still really excited about all of it, despite the Super Bowl defeat. The New England Revolution Soccer team went to the finals of the MLS cup. Boston College was ranked Number Two for like two weeks and beat VA Tech with an amazing comeback in the final two minutes. The Celtics rattled off nine straight wins, and as we speak, they're tops in the NBA. Just last week, the Sox played keep-away with the Yankees in trade talks with the Twins and effectively muscled Johan Santana out of the AL altogether.

It is still a freakin' sweet time to be a New England sports fan.

It's a cool phenomenon. During the Pats streak, My friends would see me coming, wearing my Pats hat or my Red Sox jacket and start shaking their heads as if to say "You smug Bastid." I was really digging it. I still am, although the Pats bubble got burst and the chant of "18 & ONE!!" has probably supplanted "1918" in the 'New York Sport Derision Lexicon'. (An actual document, I'm told. I should check B&N.com... I digress) That's okay. New Yorkers needed something like this to happen... desperately, trust me.

But here's where the Patriots' Road to Glory differed from all other sports teams, at least for me: The Pats roll not only got me fired up as a fan-- It inspired me to try new things and test myself. As I write this, I'm almost five weeks away from my very first Marathon, and I've pushed myself really hard during workouts and long runs --three, in particular, of 18, 20 and 22 miles-- simply by imagining the effort being expended by guys like Linebacker Tedy Bruschi (who came back to play at age 32 after a terrifying heart episode left him almost paralyzed a few years back) Linebacker Junior Seau, Fullback Kevin Faulk, and Tough-as-nails QB Tom Brady. Whenever I got weary, I told myself, "I can go one more mile-- because so can the Pats." It sounds really lame and cheesy, but I found some mental toughness developing on those 6am Saturday long runs, while wearing my Navy blue winter hat with the Patriot logo and what my wife Jennie calls the "Racing Stripe." I kept hearing Brady as he implored his team on the sidelines:

"Be Sharp! Rise Up, all right? Take it to another level!!"

That's what I'm trying to do, in all areas of my life.

So, I was along for the ride with this bunch, and I took every slight against them personally, adopting Coach Bill Belichick's 'us-against-the-world Bunker Mentality' and firing salvos right back at those who dared disparage the Pats. I got into it with Diehard 'Skins Fan Andrew Hamm over 'runupthescoregate.' I parsed the 'SpyGate' defense arguments better than Johnny Cochran ever could, and I interrupted two employees in a Kroger Parking lot to tell them "Sorry guys, but Dallas is Toast, baby." That is so unlike me. Heck, I even called Senator Arlen Spector's office to harangue some poor intern about the Eagles-fan-extraordinaire Spector's move to make NFL Czar Roger Goodell testify on Capitol Hill about the league's disposal of the Pats' seized Death Star Plans-- Err, Spy Videotape.

So yeah, I was a bit 'INTO IT.'

But when I saw that the Patriots would be playing the New York Giants in Super Bowl Forty-Two, I said, "Oh, shit," and did a double-take.

See, the New York Football Giants are Ben Bates' team.

Ben Bates is my Grandfather. He was the biggest Giants fan of them all.

Ben Bates loved the Giants with his heart and soul, ever since he was a kid growing up in Pittsfield Mass. New England had no NFL Frachise when Ben was growing up, so in 1959 the upstart American Football League gave birth to the Boston Patriots, who played their games in Fenway Park for awhile before ending up in Foxboro, Mass in 1971. But Ben's heart always belonged to the New York Football Giants. Every Christmas it was easy to pick out something for him. (I think I bough him three Giants hats in my lifetime on different holidays.)

Ben Bates was in his glory when, in 1986, the NY Giant beat John Elway's Denver Broncos 39-20 to end their long NFL Title drought. I think I still have the videotape he made of the game. He loved Lawrence Taylor and that badass in-your-face defense. (He was a badass, in-your-face guy, so it was a good fit.) Those teams had a great pass rush; A stellar game-manager at QB (Phil Simms); and a great receiving corps, headlined by Tight End Mark Bavaro, another of Gramp's favorites, of whom he said "Bavaro is one tough sonofabitch." (The highest form of praise from Mr Bates.)

He gloated mightily when the 'Jints' survived to win Super Bowl Twenty-five over the favored Buffalo Bills, 20-19. ("Norwood's kick is Wide Right!! Wide Right!!") And through it all, Ben Bates absolutely WORSHIPPED the ground Giants Head Coach Bill Parcells walked on. I can hear him now: "Parcells is the best coach in the Goddamn LEAGUE!! You can't run on the Giants, no sir!! That's New York GIANT Football!"

Now for those of you who don't know, Bill Parcells eventually left the Giants to work in the NBC broadcast booth. But, as luck would have it, "the best coach in the Goddamn League" wound up as head Coach of my team, the New England Patriots, in 1993. His first move was to draft Quarterback Drew Bledsoe, and the team actually started to show promise. They began to play like the Giants played. Strong defense, Solid Running Game, strong secondary, good special teams play.

Over Christmas break in 1993, I took a video camera over to my aunt's house and caught him on camera briefly. In hindsight, Something amazing happened. Ben Bates says, prophetically, as he looks right into the camera "I give New England TEN YEARS. They'll win it all in TEN YEARS, after Parcells steals all the Giants players."

After four years, Big Ben was half-right. Parcells stole D-back Otis Smith, 'all-everything' Dave Meggett, and a host of other players and coaches from the Giants, including assistant Coach and Defensive coordinator Bill Belichick, who, in 1997, helped the Pats reach Super Bowl Thirty One, which they lost to the Green Bay Packers, 35-21. They may have lost the big one, but by then the Pats had undergone a startling transformation, and they began to play championship-caliber football, or as Grampy called it "New York Giant Football."

The Giants made it to the Big Dance again in the year 2001, eventually losing Super Bowl Thirty-Five to the Baltimore Ravens, 34-7. I rooted for the Giants in that one (My Patriots went 5-11 that year) but by that time I was living in Virginia while Grampy was back in Pittsfield, slowly suffering from the degenerative effects of a stroke which he suffered in 1994 after a routine procedure to clear a blockage in an artery in his neck. That Super Bowl in 2001 was the last one he would ever see. The Giants lost the game, and four months later, they lost their biggest fan when Ben Bates passed away on May 29th, 2001.

Later that year, something amazing happened. The Patriots, who had finished the previous season a woeful 5-11, started to play with a familiar style. They developed a strong pass rush, a ball-hawking defensive secondary, and late in the season, they caught fire. In a late November game, they played the St Louis Rams, the explosive 'Greatest Show on Turf' and almost came away with a win. It was the kind of game that boosts a team's confidence, and they rode that momentum into the playoffs, where they won an overtime game in a howling snowstorm, bested another heavily-favored team in a pivotal road playoff game, and advanced to take on the heavily-favored Rams again, in Super Bowl Thirty-Six on February 2nd, 2002. This time the Pats newfound confidence served them well. They pressured the Quarterback, Kurt Warner ('Knocked the shit out of him,' to be precise) got a few turnovers, hung in there, withstood a late surge from the Rams, and engineered a last-second drive for the ages.

As Adam Vinatieri sent his potential game-winning field-goal skyward as time expired six years ago, my first thought was of my Grandfather, of his video prediction that the Pats would "win it all in ten years." I also thought how amazing it was that the fortunes of our favorite teams teams had been so intertwined through the years. Seconds later, as the kick split the uprights, the Patriots had won Super Bowl Thirty-Six. The main reason: Because they had learned how to play "New York Giant Football."

Over the years, my beloved Patriots would become something of a min-dynasty in the NFL, winning two more championships and setting a really high level of excellence for themselves. This past year, however, they changed to become a more offensive-minded bunch, and blew every scoring record in the books out of the water. They won eighteen straight games. The sky was the limit for this bunch. Boston Globe Columnist Dan Shaughnessy took to calling them "The History Boys."

The Giants were coached by Tom Coughlin, a Parcells disciple and the receivers coach on the '86 and '90 Giants' Super Bowl teams that my Grandfather loved so much. Coughlin's job-security had been wondered about publicly. There was dissention in the Giants' clubhouse. The Quarterback, Eli Manning, was perceived as aloof and mistake-prone. Their star running back, Tiki Barber, retired abruptly before the season started. The prognosis for a winning season in New York did not look good.

Then, this year, something amazing happened. The Giants-- who had finished the previous season 8-8 and losing a wild-card playoff game-- started to play with a familiar style. They developed a strong pass rush, a three-headed running game, and late in the season, they caught fire. In a late December game, they played the New England Patriots, the explosive 'Greatest Team of All-Time' and almost came away with a win. It was the kind of game that boosts a team's confidence, and they rode that momentum into the playoffs, where they won an overtime game in a howling snowstorm, bested another heavily-favored team in a pivotal road playoff game, and advanced to take on the heavily-favored Pats again, in Super Bowl Forty-Two on February 3rd, 2008. This time the 'Jints' newfound confidence served them well. They pressured the Quarterback, Tom Brady ('Knocked the shit out of him,' to be precise) got a few bounces, hung in there, withstood a late surge from the Pats, and engineered a last-second drive for the ages.

As Eli Manning hit wideout Plaxico Burress who juked Pats' CB Ellis Hobbes on a fade route with :39 seconds left, I thought of my Grandfather, and how much fun he would be having, even as my stomach fell through the floor.

So last night, Super Bowl Forty-Two was something of a family affair. My Aunt and my Mother both rooted for the Giants, and I, of course, rooted for the Patriots. Even my wife Jennie was into it, yelling at Pats receiver Wes Welker to "Go! Go!! Run!!"

And I wanted it. I wanted it so badly, one can hardly believe it. I could taste it when Brady hit Randy Moss for the go-ahead score with 2:45 left in the Fourth Quarter. The Patriots were going to be 19-0.

It was an amazing game.

The Pats were on the verge of perfection, but Eli and he Giants stole it from them by playing hard for sixty full minutes. The Giants won by Playing 'New England Patriots Football.' If it were anybody else-- any other team-- I'd probably be angry or upset about the loss, But somehow this loss doesn't sting quite as as badly as it should. It's really odd. Especially since so much was at stake; The perfect record, etc. I've never had this feeling about a sporting event before-- I'm holding two opposite emotions in my heart at he same time. I'm emotionally 'crushed' but I'm somehow reassured that something absolutely wonderful happened for lots of people who love the Giants just as much as my Grandfather did.

So today, I talked with my Mom on the phone. She was in such a good mood that it put me in one, too... Even as I wandered around with the "What the hell just happened?" face all day. I told her that I though it would be a good idea if someone could place a NY GIANTS SUPER BOWL CHAMPIONS Pennant by my Grandfather's headstone in Hinsdale, Mass. She liked that idea. So do I.

So, I'm happy. Even though we lost everything. The whole season, the 19-0 dream. All of it. I'm not sure exactly why...I'm happy.

Perhaps because I know that somewhere out there, my Grandfather, Ben Bates, is watching all of this and loving every minute of it. And what can I say? I love my Grandfather more than any football team... Even the Patriots.

I can hear Tom Brady now, saying "Be Sharp! Rise Up, all right? Take it to another level!!"

I think I finally know what that really means.

I recently sat down and composed a list of things I'd like to do before I die. The very first thing that came to my mind was "I'd like to run the Boston marathon someday."  So, that's what I'm going to shoot for, even if it takes me ten years to run a qualifying time in an official Boston-Qualifying Marathon. Right now, the BQ time is 3 hours 10 minutes for a 34-year old man.Luckily, I'm a 12-year old tucked inside the body of a 34 year-old. I'm camouflaged like I was friggin' Predator. They'll never see me coming.

Now, mind you, I've never actually run a Marathon before, whatsoever. But, I've always been a pretty fit fella, and I have the metabolism of a  freaking Meerkat. I can eat just about anything (Though I've switched to a vegetarian diet in the last five years) and  turn it into pure energy. I try to always get out and exercise-- as much as I can, anyway. I play touch football, baseball, basketball on occasion, and prior to the past few months, I'd only run every now and again-- whenever I needed a quick inertia-buster. I've also been practicing Yoga on and off for about four years, and that, along with my dietary changes, do wonders for my  body even as both exponentially lower my 'coolness qoutient' among my pals.

My buddy, Baron Von Rick, likes to shake his head and say "What happened to you, man?"

What can I say?? I am, after all, the world's premiere 'AlfAlpha male.' A corny, goofy, geeky vegetarian touchy-feely guy with a competitive streak a mile wide, and a low frustration tolerance, but still with enough self-deprecating humor to make him somehow endearing at the same time as he's being annoying.

THAT's an AlfAlpha male.

Now, about the habits I used to display...

I used to drink like a fish (Mostly beer-- LOTS of  Beer) and I smoked like a chimney for about 5 years. Who could blame me-- I was working three bartending jobs in Pittsfield, Mass (The scratch ticket/six-pack/cigarettes-combo capital of the world) and I noticed really quickly that people who smoke get more 'breaktime' at work than non-smokers. If you say, "Hey Joe, I'm gonna grab a quick smoke, " The answer is "No problem." Try saying "Hey Joe, I'm gonna stand outside for an average of seven minutes and breathe in and out." The next words out of Joe's mouth will be "Like hell you AHH!! Change the kegs, ya lazy rat-lookin' bastid!!" Next thing I know, I'm lighting up like a moron.

I also worked on The Lost Colony Outdoor Drama and lived in 'The Compound' for awhile, so we all enabled each other's nasty smoking habit. Now many of us are kicking it with the quickness, but back then, everybody did it...So, smoking became the thing to do, and luckily the Marlboro lights didn't result in a 'Light' tumor as far as I can tell.

So, like Carl said in Caddyshack-- "I got that going for me."

So, now, coffee is my only real vice. That and La Croix brand canned soda water.  And sunflower seeds. That's really it. Now, don't think that I don't get my protein, because I do. I eat lots of peanut butter and soy protein and eggs (yes, I do eat eggs, maybe someday I'll stop, but not just yet) Cottage cheese (Has mad Protein, yo) Almonds, and flaxseed... and unlike Barry Bonds, I know what Flaxseed oil looks like. (It's great for your skin, by the way) I also get my veggies, cheeses and other dairy products, and a healthy heaping of breads (Jennie has learned to bake bread), including whole wheat pasta, and I cook a lot with olive oil. Every morning I have either an egg sandwich (Cooked with olive oil) and a bowl of fruit, granola and yogurt, or a bowl of cheerios and a banana or some oatmeal and coffee. I eat lots of pasta and different combinations of soy proteins that are so good --and good for you-- that it makes sense to substitute them into your diet now and then-- even if you're not some 'animal-compassion whacko' on the outermost lefty fringes of society.

But I digress. Back to my bipedal questisisss.

I have a weird history with running. It has moved in and out of my life ever since I was  a kid on the Westminster Center School Track and Cross-Country teams at the age of ten. We lived in Bellows Falls, Vermont at the time, and we were called the Vikings. We wore green and white uniforms, which I thought was cool, since we looked like the Celtics. Short shorts, high socks with the three green stripes. Awww, yeah. I  used to be the smallest kid on both teams, and I was an  average runner at best. I was the kid who would run off into the woods during the cross-country meets and stop to look at a butterfly, resulting in a 19th place finish.

Our team was anchored by the erstwhile legend of  Westminster track and cross -country excellence,  Claudia Williams, the long-legged daughter of Red Sox Hall of Famer Ted Williams. She won, I swear-- EVERY. SINGLE. RACE.

On and off over the years, I would eschew competitive racing in favor of the theatre, but that never stopped me from running just for the joy of it. My girlfriend in high school and college, Dina Ressler, was a track/cross country runner at PHS and Bentley College, and my cousin Shaun broke the Taconic HS mark for the 400-meter hurdles. With me, though, it was always about chugging along and taking in the view. I loved the three-mile run down east New Lenox Road to New Lenox road-- from my Dad's old house in Pittsfield Mass --to my uncle Charlie's-- and back  The view of the Berkshire Hills, seen across the valley beyond the railroad tracks, is something I always go back to whenever I close my eyes. Those were the same tracks I  used to lay pennies on with Katy Maturveitch in the second grade.  We'd sit there and wait for the trains to come along and flatten them. Hey, what can I say, there was no internet... and Atari had, like, two games.

In college, I started running again to build up my endurance to play the lead in Me and My Girl. I would run around the Sutter Oval in front of Wagner College's Main  Hall, sometimes waking at 6:30 am on days when my earliest class was at 11am. Those of you who know my penchant for 'sleeping in' will find that quite hard to believe. But, it paid off. I remember feeling so strong and confident during the actual show, blazing through those song & dance numbers... I had an inexhaustible supply of both breath and energy.

I remember that one of my favorite days ever was July 4th, 1994, when I ran the Pittsfield 4th of July 5k-- and then, during the ensuing parade, I was in the Berkshire Theatre Festival float down North Street  as part of the cast of Brimstone: The Irish Musical.  The only drawback to that day was that during the race, around the turn of mile three, Dina completely dusted me, fired up the afterburners and took off --  this was like, four months after we broke up, so it was basically her version of the Patriots' now infamous 'Eff-You TD.'

(But, unlike some NFL-organizations I could mention, I shut up and took my medicine... ; )

There's something great about logging a run in cold weather; In particular, the way your  body just educates you-- it tells you "I can do more than you think I can, bro-ham. Let me show you. Have a little faith in me. I pump enough blood to keep you alive, and I put up with all the crap you've done to me over the years, now-- watch what I can really do. I'm the Millenium Freaking Falcon. Take me out for a spin, you low-expectation havin' mother$@**!! (Apologies to Chris Rock)

In recent years, Jennie and I have run the Komen Race for the Cure, and every time we do it, I am more inspired by these brave women and their stories of survival, triumph and dedication in the face of cancer treatment. We jus did the Ntelos 8k together, and Jennie is now shooting for the Half-marathon as her goal. Depending on how our latest auditions shake out, we may each run our event in VA Beach on March 16th of this year-- The Shamrock Marathon and Half-Marathon.

I recently found a journal we had to keep in Mister Oglesby's Fifth Grade class.I am absolutely floored that this journal has been preserved like this-- it was at my dad's house for like twenty years, sealed and untouched. I found two fantastic passages that illustrate the beginnings of my relationship to the sport:

"9-30-1983

Yesterday, we won the track meet! Claudia came in 1st place and Asia came in 2nd! I came in 19th place! Maybe next year I can come in 1st place!

For now, I'm just a runner!"

"10-21-1983

Yesterday, we lost the track meet. (but) We might get ribbons for our running!  I hope so. My Mom was at the meet yesterday, too. My Ma always askes me,  "Scott how do you do it?" She says she could never run as fast as I can. I should have told her she can do anything she wants! It's being good at what you do that counts."

I have so much enthusiasm for running now, and rereading these journals is like dipping in the 'Magic waters' That James earl Jones talks about in Field of Dreams. What a blessing to be able to re-connect to something I wrote so long ago-- to find the simple, resonant truth of a child-- ringing like a bell.

Bill Rodgers, the Melrose, Mass-based 4-time winner of the Boston marathon, left the sport for quite a number of years, himself. Not quite as many as I did, and certainly at a higher level of competition, but  something he said in his book, Marathoning, struck a chord with me. He writes:

"Some people say, 'I'm a painter.' Well, I'm a runner. It comes from within. What started  me running again?  The primary reason was that  I finally came to realize I was a runner.  It was always a part of my personality. It fitted me so well. Although I had quit the physical experience of running, I had never quit being a runner at heart."

So, I've reached an understanding with myself, and been re-acquainted with a valuable truth that I forgot how to hear. I'm a runner. What kind of runner I become is now up to me. I may never hit the heights of 'Boston Billy,' But I've got a full tank and a full heart, and I'm ready to see what I can do.

I'm currently training about 23 miles a week, and every time out, I am more and more thankful for this body, this life, these friends and family members, these memories, and this wonderful opportunity to live more fully. Each step of this life is an opportunity to do just that. May I be always observant of this simple truth, and take no step for granted.

I feel like there's a new chapter opening in my life, and I hope to fill the remaining pages with a special story, started by a small, ten-year old boy awkwardly running through the Westminster woods in high green tube socks. I'm going to give this my all, and hopefully it will someday lead me to my goal of getting to that starting line in Hopkinton some cold, drizzly monday in early april.

The journey alone will be well worth it.

And if I want to stop and look at the butterflies along the way, that's okay too.

Here's to whatever's on your list.

Best,
Scott Wichmann

By CELIA WREN

Okay, so-- here are seven completely random things about me. My friend Mauri (Holdin' it down in Nicholson-- VIADUCT HOLLA!!) 'Tagged' me and I went to her blog and read all of her wonderful, weird and quirky peccadiloes. Many of them I share with her, to varying degrees. Let me see if I can pinpoint seven odd behaviors or little known facts about m'seff...

7.) Okay, I do this really weird OCD thing when I turn on the burner on the stove. Whenever I turn the dial to 'light', the little gas burner gives three short 'Clicks'.

Immediately after these three short clicks, there is a slight pause, after which the burner lights up like a billowing blue flower. During that pause, I habitually snap the fingers of my right hand. I don't know why, but I 've always done it, and I don't remember when it started.

When the burner turns on, The noise sounds like 'Floonf!!' Sounds Norwegian, I know. Perhaps I like to make the snap! because I like the rhythm of the entire sequence-- Click, Click, Snap, Floonf!!

...Or maybe I'm just a loon. Wait until I start walking between the cracks on the sidewalk and dating Helen Hunt.

6.) I am addicted to La Croix sparkling water (It has Gotta be in the can-- we call it 'fizzy water' at my house) and POM Pomegranate Juice. Mixing them both is, well, something I like a lot.

I buy at least seven twelve-packs of La Croix a WEEK. Luckily, it's a healthy beverage with basically nothing harmful or really all that exciting in it,save bubbles. Usually, I will buy a 12-pack and immediately put 3 in the freezer. I'll then go through the whole thing in two days. Jennie drinks hers at room temperature. I don't feel so bad about spending money on them, because they are a proud sponsor of the Susan G. Komen Race for The Cure, which supports breast cancer research, which Jennie and I try to run in every year. Not really a bad habit, just quirky. Who's addicted to water with bubbles in it??

5.) I'm allergic to shellfish. Can't eat it, won't eat it. My throat will close up and I will get all puffy. I'd better stay away from Red Lobster and getting Cast on Survivor. I'm actually a vegetarian... Who owns a leather baseball glove. I also put A-1 steak sauce on Boca Brand Veggie-Burgers. I'm a walking contradiction.

4.) I love to vacuum. We have 2 dogs and 2 cats, and I absolutely love to clean the house and make it look as if there were never any animals here. My mother-in-law gave us a 'Rainbow' which is basically a $3,000 Vacuum cleaner which filters dust and pet dander through water. It's like the greatest invention ever, short of Fantasy Football, Easy Cheese and drive-thru strip joints. (They don't have those?? They should. )

But-- here's the catch-- I'm basically kind of a 'forgetful neat freak', which means I'll put something important 'away' somewhere-- just to be tidy --and then I'll flip out because, in my own harried words: "WHERE THE HELL DID THAT GO?? IT WAS JUST RIGHT HERE!!"

I'll also chide the animals sometimes, saying  "Aww, NO!! Don't go THERE....I just vacuumed that!!" Then I'll despondently exclaim... "Nothing to be done..." At which point, Jennie looks at me like she just discovered that she married a character in a Beckett play.

3.) The number'Three' is proud to present Three Other Random things:

-I LOVE TO TYPE IN ALL CAPS. IT MAKES ME FEEL IMPORTANT. ESPECIALLY BECAUSE I'M A LOWER-CASE g.

-I hate the sound of styrofoam. It's like KRYPTONITE. I'm one of those people who could never work in shipping because I would snap one day and just-- well, I'm not really violent or confrontational by nature, so I'd probably just bring it up at the end of a meeting when people were breaking for lunch-- or more realistically, just sort of comment about it to a passing co-worker or janitor or-- Well, I'd probably actuall just sort of  let out a 'sigh.'

-I admit it. I have a crush on White House Press Secretary Dana Perrino. I know, I know!!

2.) I can't sleep if there's light in the room. I usually sleep with either the blanket shielding my eyes, a sleep mask, or, in the winter I'll pull a wool winter cap down over my eyes. My wife is like a nuclear reactor at night-- she generates enough heat to keep Spotsylvania lit up until 2014.

1.) I hate the phrase "Wanna come with??" As in, "Would you like to go to the mall  with us??"  Something about it just makes me want to vomit. It's so pretentious and 'SoCal' that it makes me cringe.

Of course,Wait 'till I move there one day. I'll be talking like Rome...

"Hey braa-- Me and my buddy J-Bug are goin' to Sonny's in Santa Monica before the Clips tip off. Wanna come with?? LATE. RACK ME...."

Now it's time for me to look through my nifty magic mirror and pick out some seven of you to participate!! Romper, stomper, bomper-boo, I tagged all fucking seven of you!! I tag Jennie, Rick, Missy, Bryson, Steve-O, Vandall and DJ RUDE!! Now you guys have to post your own random shit and hit some other folks up for responses like I just did. Aww, quit whining. You weren't doing anything anyway, and your crummy fantasy football team is beyond repair.

Just friggin DO it!!

THEATER

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Katherine Louis plays housekeeper Berenice for Lexi Langs's young misfit, Frankie Addams in "The Member of the Wedding." Frankie spends the three acts trying to escape her Southern world. Jay Paul

October 10, 2007

Staying Faithful

Barksdale's "The Member of the Wedding" is engaging

by David Timberline

In the waning days of World War II, a 12-year-old misfit named Frankie Addams yearns for many things: to leave her small Southern town, to belong to something, to grow up. Frankie's story unfolds in the Barksdale Theatre's "The Member of the Wedding," and during its three deliberately paced acts, this production meanders pleasantly enough. But occasionally the play snaps into focus with bracing clarity and the dramatic tension suddenly becomes palpable. There is nothing particularly wrong with the production; in fact, with director Scott Wichmann enhancing the comedic side business during several scenes, it's quite enjoyable. But those sporadic moments of intensity made me yearn for a play that included just a few more jolts to the nervous system.

Ironically, the play's source had a good bit more drama, including a prominent subplot involving Frankie's dangerous liaison with a sexually aggressive soldier. But when Carson McCullers adapted her novel for the stage, she focused on two other sources of tension. The first is the inevitable clash between fantasy and reality as Frankie (played by Lexi Langs) begins to tell everyone that she will be leaving town with her big brother and his bride after their upcoming wedding. And the second is the entrenched racial inequity of the time that lies just below the surface and rises to the fore in ugly and unexpected ways.

The pivotal character is the steadfast and kindly housekeeper Berenice, played with luminous dignity by Katherine Louis. She serves as the bridge between the play's white characters — Frankie, her father (David Bridgewater) and her impish six-year-old cousin, John Henry (Eric Evans) — and the town's African-American subclass represented by Berenice's suitor, T.T. (Tony Cosby), and the quick-to-anger musician Honey (Alec Stephens III). I could see a modern retelling of this story pushing Frankie's story to the side and homing in on the intriguing details McCullers includes about Berenice (how did she lose her eye? How did the love of her life die?).

Louis anchors the production with her performance, capturing the bittersweet joy and wry self-knowledge of Berenice's reminiscences. Cosby oozes authenticity, and Stephens hints at a simmering electricity that I hope gets exploited in future roles. Bridgewater does well but is essentially underutilized, as is Jill Bari Steinberg in her brief stint as John Henry's mother.

Much of the play's success rests on the narrow shoulders of Evans and Langs, and both acquit themselves nicely. Evans seems a natural, completely unself-conscious as he playfully scampers about among the grown-ups. Langs portrays the turbulent tides of pre-adolescence with remarkable confidence, though her Southern accent occasionally shades into British territory.

Technically, the Barksdale production sparkles, with an expansive, homey set designed by Brian Barker that manages to seem twice as big as it is. Lighting designer Lynne Hartman illuminates the proceedings with a warm autumnal glow. She also provides convincing lightning flashes in the last act when, after scenes largely playful and nostalgic, the play turns decidedly darker.

There is plenty of foreshadowing of this turn — not the least of which is a discussion of the atomic bomb being dropped on Japan — but it's still a bit surprising. And even then, most of the action takes place offstage, including the culmination of Frankie's determined attempt to flee with the newlyweds. While "The Member of the Wedding" offers a satisfying slice of Southern living, I left wishing McCullers had cut just a little bit deeper. S



"The Member of the Wedding" plays at the Barksdale Theatre at Willow Lawn Wednesday-Saturday at 8 p.m., with Tuesday, Saturday and Sunday matinees through Oct. 28. Tickets are $35-$38. 282-2620.