Tag: Boston

Four full moons – a haiku series

Daily writing prompt
What are you doing this evening?
View all responses

Tonight is the season opener of Naked Angels Tuesdays@9 Chicago and I’m excited! We’ve been off since May and have had four full moons since our last show. For every full moon, I wrote a haiku.

I always give Tuesdays@9 my “all” so by the end of every season, even though I am proud and grateful, I’m also thoroughly exhausted. Here’s the haiku I wrote on the May 23 full moon:

don't howl at the moon
when she's full -- she needs quiet
give her space

But after a couple weeks of recuperating, I was ready to be vulnerable and creative again. Here’s the haiku I wrote the night of the June 21 full moon. 

the moon shows herself
fully once a month
i must do the same

In July, I focused on understanding the wild yet reliable nature of creativity. I wrote this haiku on the night of the July 21 full moon.

creativity 
is the moon and the moon is
creativity

That haiku is more of a mantra than a poem but at least it reminds me that my creativity — like the moon — is always there, waxing and waning, and part of something much bigger.

***

In August, I took at solo writing trip to Boston. Even though I have TSA Precheck, I was frisked at O’Hare security because the username on my phone’s flight app said “Connie” and my full name is “Constance.” As she patted me down, the agent told me, “The names have to match.”

Later, I arrived at my hotel in Boston.

“Hello. May I help you?”

“Hi! I’m here to check in. My name is Connie Kuntz.”

With absurd and short-lived glee, I slid my drivers license across the counter. I was ecstatic to be in Boston.

The concierge proceeded to look up my reservation.

With a troubled look on her face, she repeatedly looked at me, my ID and her computer screen. After a minute or two, she picked up her phone and called for backup. A woman came out from the back. As she walked to the counter, she made direct eye contact with me. I’m not sure why, but she scared the shit out of me.

Actually, I do know why. Several years ago I read Heads in Beds, a tell-all memoir about the hotel industry that convinced me that everyone in the hotel industry is a coke-head who hates their “guests.”

Anyway, when she arrived at the counter, she looked at her colleague’s computer screen, then at me, then at my ID, and finally muttered, “‘Connie’ is a nickname for ‘Constance.'”

The concierge looked at me and earnestly asked, “So what should I call you?”

I panicked and said, “Uhhhh….Constance?”

It didn’t feel right. First of all, I have successfully avoided saying “uh” for years. I was pissed at myself for breaking my “no ‘uh’ streak.” On top of that, I wanted to apologize to them and ask for forgiveness. I’ve felt silly about my name my whole life and suddenly found myself wondering why.

There’s nothing wrong with Constance but it does take up a little more space. Why is it so hard for me to make space for my own name?

On the night of the August 19 full moon, I decided it was time to fully embrace Constance so I wrote this haiku.

as the river flows
into the ocean, Connie
flows into Constance

So there you have it. Four haiku poems for the four full moons since Tuesdays@9 broke for the summer. And now you know what my plans are for tonight!

***

For the record, Constance is a work in progress. I still feel a surge of embarrassment and shame whenever someone calls me Constance but at the same time I also realize I am simply trying to flow into myself, into my truth. It’s not that radical a concept and I should have done this years ago. Right?

Thanks for reading. -Constance

No way in hell

Daily writing prompt
Are there things you try to practice daily to live a more sustainable lifestyle?
View all responses

I’m a road-trip kinda gal, but a few days ago Jesse asked if I wanted to fly to Boston with him. I was packed and ready to go faster than you can say Beantown. Though I had only been there once, briefly, ten years ago, I love Boston; plus I was eager to spend some time alone with my man.

It was a quick trip — we only had one full day in Boston. Jesse had to work and I was there to research The Quarter Millennial Experience which is a play I am writing. The QMX takes place on a commuter train in Boston so I visited places that would be familiar to the characters: the Freedom Trail, a train station, the North End (Boston’s Little Italy), the Holocaust Memorial, the Irish Famine Memorial, Chinatown and two museums. I spent a grand total of $15 — the price of museum admission.

Walking around Boston. I was headed to the Old State House which is the red brick building in the center.

While I walked around Boston and people-watched, Jesse had a site visit for a multimillion dollar show he will be working on next month. His work-day cost several thousands of dollars. When we met back at the hotel that afternoon, he said the information gathered at the site visit could have taken place over Zoom and a couple emails.

The difference in the way we “spent” our days is representative of how my husband and I spend our lives. He’s a spender; I’m not. He’s strategic and corporate; I’m artistic and have a short attention span. He’s the best at what he professionally does — always in demand. I’m…dispensable. After twenty years of marriage, we’ve given up trying to change each other, but we haven’t given up on each other.

It’s a simple thing to love someone and be loved back so sustaining our marriage is somewhat brainless for us. No one has ever tried to break us up and we both have an “us versus them” mentality about society. No way in hell are we going to let society win. Besides, marriage is a place to be fully human with another person. Where else can you say that is true?

I have to finish my chores, which includes weeding the vegetable garden, watering the plants with rain water I collected from the last storm, stirring the compost, and scrubbing the floors with hot earth-friendly soapy water. And I need to work on my play. While I do that, Jesse will be invoicing and working on estimates. When we’re done with our respective tasks, we’re headed to a nearby nature preserve for a hike which is something sustainable we always enjoy doing together no matter how different we are.

Thanks for reading! -Connie

P.S. I took the featured photo about a week ago at the forest preserve we will be visiting later today. The prairie is really coming to life and will be even more beautiful and colorful now through July. Here’s how to RSVP for a free public hike at that preserve.

I was that kid

Daily writing prompt
What’s the most delicious thing you’ve ever eaten?
View all responses

The most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten is seared maitake mushroom steak served with vegetable succotash. My husband and I recently went out to dinner. When I saw this listed in the entree section of the menu, I gasped with delight…and a little bit of horror. It was expensive: $28.

“Should I?” I asked Jesse. “I mean, we’re trying to save money. I mean…should I?”

“Yes.”

***

When I ordered the entree, the waiter shook his head and said, “That’s not a real steak, you know. It’s a mushroom.” I looked at him, smiled and intuitively pointed to “seared maitake mushroom steak” on the menu. I tapped on it for extra emphasis. “I know,” I told him. “That’s why I’m ordering it.”

Then he then looked me in the eyes, slowly blinked and walked away.

In that moment, I felt “seen.”

Not seen for who I think I am — a lady who knows her mushrooms — but seen the way most people see me — which is with little to no respect.

The waiter most likely serves hundreds of diners a week. He probably “sees” each person the second they are seated at his table. The menu isn’t that long — he can probably predict what each of his diners will order and how they will tip.

We all get sized up and thin-sliced every single time we leave the house.

***

Jesse and I recently took a trip to Boston. He had a site visit at the convention center and I was there to research my new play which is set in Boston.

Jesse travels quite a bit for work and knows his way around an airport. Though an efficient traveler, he does not like traveling. A few years ago he told me that traveling has turned him into “a pussy.” He said if was going to continue traveling for work, he was going to have to make some upgrades.

“Oh sure,” I said, not really knowing what “some upgrades” entailed. “Do whatever it takes.”

Soon he had apps downloaded, TSA Precheck, frequent flier points constantly accruing and was traveling in first class. He knows how to pack with one carry-on and one for the overhead bin. It’s rare when he has to check any baggage.

When I knew we would be flying to Boston, I (someone who rarely flies) was excited that I would finally get the chance to observe my man in action. What was Airport Jesse like? What would I learn about my husband of 20 years?

***

At the airport, he whisked me through TSA Precheck and into the United Club Lounge for a hot breakfast. When it was time to board, he leaned into my ear and said, “It’s about to get intense for about twenty minutes.”

I thought that meant our gate would be busy with people lining up to get on the plane. It was, but that’s not what he meant. He meant he would be busy intensely judging people.

Jesse is kind-hearted and fun-loving but also freely admits his cottage industry is “bein’ a dick.” It’s part of how he deals with constantly traveling and constantly dealing with people. We are all always vulnerable — we have to protect ourselves in whatever way makes sense to us. So now that you know that, he here’s how Jesse protects himself.

He proceeded to point out every person who was waiting at our gate:

  • That’s the old woman who pretends she doesn’t know what she’s doing so she can get to the front of the line.
  • There’s the cool guy who lines up with Group 1 even though he’s in Group 5. They’ll just let him on because he is always dressed hip.
  • That lady has too much shit and is going to cause a scene when they tell her she has to check her baggage. She’ll tell them she can’t because she has “breakables.”
  • Oh he’s the cocky businessman. He’s going to tell anyone who’ll listen how good he is at everything he does.
  • There’s Hung Over Sports Guy. He’s alone but there’s usually two or three other guys with him.

Then Jesse pointed off into the distance.

  • Somewhere out there is a rich douche who will board late. He won’t be able to put his bag directly over his seat and he’ll create a whole scene about it.
  • That skinny 20-something guy with the shitty backpack over there will just cram it in. He won’t be careful with anyone else’s belongings.
  • See that woman with the fuckin’ dog? Jesus Christ.
  • The loud, fat kid over there who’s who’s saying hi to everyone? No one wants to talk to him. By the way, I was that kid.

By this point he was almost breathless, but he wasn’t done.

  • Anyone wearing a fuckin’ mask is annoying.
  • Business partners — the worst — if they sit across the aisle from each other, they’re going to talk to each other in full voice for the whole fuckin’ flight — always men.
  • Female equivalent is the bridal party but they’re not on this flight, thank God.

By the time we boarded the plane, Jesse was exhausted from all that thin-slicing. We sat in first class because try as I have to influence him, Jesse will never embrace the Bohemian lifestyle. Within five minutes of sitting down, he fell asleep. I watched every single person he described walk by. His descriptions were spot on. When he woke up, he looked refreshed and downright jubilant.

***

Jesse is not necessarily happier when he travels in first class but he is slightly more comfortable. And instead of having to deal with people the whole flight, he just lets them walk by when he’s snoozing in first class.

***

The Bible says somewhere Judge not lest ye be judged. I don’t care if I’m judged. Neither does Jesse. And judging strangers is how we stay alive. I say go ahead: Judge away and rest easy.

Thanks for reading. -Connie

Subscribe! It’s easy and free and there are zero ads.