5 Keys to Successful Retirement

Posted on 12/13/2023 by paulefallon

Ten years ago today, I retired. I must admit, I’m pretty good at it. A quarter of all retirees return to work, more often because they want something to do than they need the money. If you don’t want to fall into that camp after you’ve collected your gold watch, here’s what you need to know.

Image courtesy of Vintage Watch Restoration

My retirement mantra is: Use it or lose it. No matter how smart or strong we imagine ourselves, after age sixty our bodies begin to break down; our minds start to grow cobwebs. How quickly we deteriorate is directly proportional to how lax we become in our habits. So here are the five keys to keep moving, keep thinking, keep involved, keep creating, keep in touch. Practice all five every day, and you will love being retired.

Planet Fitness 30-minute Workout is the basis for my expanded circuit.

1.  Exercise Your Body. This is my favorite retirement activity. Exercise has always been my most effective anti-depressant, and retirement gives me the time to take mega-doses. I register at least 10,000 steps on my pedometer (minimum four miles walking or 20 miles cycling) every day. I mean Every Day. Add an hour of circuit training at the gym two to three times a week; substitute mat Pilates or yoga sculpt on the off-days. Has ten years of focused exercise made me stronger or faster? No. I’m not as strong or agile than I was a decade ago. But I’m in great shape compared with most of my peers. And I feel terrific.

Recent Reads

2.  Exercise Your Mind. I read a few newsletters every day to keep me abreast—though not embroiled—in the world’s problems. Then I relax with word puzzles: Quordle, Blossom, Wordle. I have time to juggle two or three books at once. I read The New Yorker, cover to cover, every week; which is almost a full-time job. I joined a book discussion group for the external motivation to tackle Moby Dick or Madame Bovary; and maintain a list of more recent offerings like The Sixth Extinction, On the Road, or Let the Great World Spin on my own.

Activism can be a part of community service and connection.

3. Serve Your Community. It’s a well-established fact that when money is withdrawn from any situation, everyone behaves nicer. Thus, community activities can be more satisfying than work ever was. Different folks approach volunteer efforts in different ways. I am a dabbler. Every week I tutor ESOL. Bi-weekly, I write my pen pal in prison and I do chores with a blind neighbor. Once a month I pack boxes at a food pantry. I devote time to my quest for prison reform by attending monthly parole hearings, and assisting an inmate at MCI Norfolk to prepare for his own hearing. Six times a year I copy-edit the upcoming issue of Gay& Lesbian Review. Seasonally, I interview aspiring applicants to MIT in the fall, and am a VITA tax preparer in the winter. Annually, I write a pair of articles recapping Boston’s theater season for New England Theatre in Review—a gig that yields me a pair of tickets to a dozen or more performances throughout the year. Tack on occasional architectural sketches for a project in Haiti or a renovation for a family or friend. I try to do something on behalf of someone else every day. Never for money. All of it provides great satisfaction, even fun.

Mid-century Modern birdhouses I built for a Mid-century Modern friend.

4. Serve Your Muse. After a technically-focused education and career as an architect, retirement has provided me an opportunity to explore a completely different muse. Turns out I love to write. In the past decade I’ve published two books, maintained this weekly essay blog, written four plays and am gestating a fifth. None of these endeavors make a dime, but that’s not the point. Writing is my way to absorb the world and understand my place within it. Whether anyone actually reads the stuff is icing on the cake. I also keep my hands busy with a variety woodworking projects (more rough carpentry than fine woodworking). And of course I keep my 126-year-old 4-family house and gardens up to snuff. After all, that chestnut is the reason I got to retire early in the first place. Whatever your muse may be: find it; relish it; dig in.

Dear friends Lisa, Larry, Marion, and Mark at our 50th high school reunion.

5. Socialize. This the tough one for me. I know, in theory, that people with a broad range of family and friends lead long-term healthier lives. I also know that I am quite content to take solitary walks, peck at my computer, and tinker around the house. Research recommends a baseline of engaging—every day—with at least one on-going connection and one varied one. Since I’ve lived with the same housemate for sixteen years, and call my boyfriend daily, ongoing connections are baked into my life. It’s that reaching out to others, for varied perspectives and experiences, that’s a chore. Yet, I try. I lean into my other activities to mine social opportunities. Thus, the book group, the individuals I tutor or assist, the folks I invite to share my theater tickets. I have fewer long-term friends than I did ten years ago. Several have died. A few became estranged by the foibles of COVID and our nation’s toxic divisions. So, I’ve reached out to new friends. People of more varied perspectives than the affluent white gay men that have been my social core for years. As in any endeavor, when I expend the energy to put myself out there, the social returns are bountiful.

I learned to bake during the pandemic. As we age, our sweet tooth gets hungrier!

If I remain on my present health trajectory (and if I’m lucky), there’s a chance I’ll be retired longer than I was ever a child, or a student, or even an architect. I’m up to that challenge. And I challenge anyone dreaming of, seriously thinking about, or already into retirement: use it, don’t lose it. There is still so much we can do to engage with our world and enjoy our lives

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , | 1 Comment

What’s in a Name: The Debate over Faneuil Hall

Posted on 12/06/2023 by paulefallon

The names we give our streets and squares, civic and institutional buildings, are a direct reflection of our culture. Not as it is, so much as what we aspire it to be. Names bestowed memorialize for generations, sometimes even centuries, what we consider our best selves at the time they’re named. Thus, virtually every main street in New England was renamed Washington Street after the Revolutionary War, and most Washington Streets retain that name 250 years later. Thus, we name schools after statesmen, though not often enough after notable women. This being the United States, where money’s what we value most, the naming process is seriously skewed toward wealth. Thus, we name building after collegiate building after guys who dipped into very deep pockets and sprinkled a bit of their loot in an act of cleansing. Thus, at a more rudimentary level, we suffer suburban subdivision streets named after the developer’s kids, wives, even dogs. I always wonder whether people mind living on streets with inane monikers, such as Jennifer Lane or Skipper Circle.

There’s a major naming controversy around Boston these days: whether to rename Faneuil Hall. Peter Faneuil was a wealthy merchant. Much of his wealth was derived from goods produced by slaves and funding voyages of the slave trade. In 1740, Peter Faneuil proposed to Town Meeting that he build a public market place and donate it to the city. He added a public meeting space on the second floor, which was used as the town hall, as well as a gathering place for concerts, banquets, and ceremonies.

Leading up to and during the Revolution, Faneuil Hall was the site of rousing community debate, and became known as “The Cradle of Liberty.” In the 1800’s it offered a local and national stage for the abolition movement. Frederick Douglass, Wendell Phillips, Lucy Stone, and William Lloyd Garrison all spoke there. Then again, so did Jefferson Davis. In the twentieth century, Faneuil Hall became the site of Naturalization Ceremonies for new citizens. Today, Faneuil Hall is still owned by the City of Boston, but the National Parks Services operates tours and other services.

Recently, The Boston Globe published a pair of editorials presenting opposing perspectives on the predicament of Faneuil Hall’s name.

Kevin C. Peterson, founder of the New Democracy Coalition, a non-profit focused on civic literacy, civic policy, and electoral justice, wrote that, “For Black residents across the city and the nation, the name expresses the unforgiving heart of a man who considered Black human beings no part of a civil society, and who denigrated and regarded them solely as a commodity to be sold or traded.”

Meanwhile, historian Kevin M. Levin argued that much would be lost if Faneuil Hall is renamed: the courageous history of Black advocacy and activism that dates back to denouncing the Fugitive Slave Act in the 1850’s right up recent calls for voting rights. “Rather than place our focus and direct our resources solely on changing the name of Faneuil Hall, tour guides, educators, and historians need to recommit themselves to telling these stories inside and around the building with the name that generations of Black activists and reformers recognized.”

Of these two perspectives, I align with Mr. Levin. The fact that Peter Faneuil was a slave trader is an important consideration in evaluating the man and his legacy. Yet we should evaluate him in the context of his times, not ours. Today, anyone who traffics slaves is a criminal, who deserves to be brought to justice. In Faneuil’s time, it was accepted manner of business. Yes, he might have been a nobler man had he denounced slavery, as a few—but not most—of his Boston brethren did in the 1740’s. Cruel as it seems to today’s ears, Mr. Peterson’s point, that Peter Faneuil possessed the “unforgiving heart of a man who considered Black human beings no part of a civil society” is actually incorrect. Peter Faneuil did have an understanding of the role of Blacks in civil society. They were slaves. A perspective we now condemn, but one which Peter Faneuil shared with most of his fellow townspeople.

There are arenas in which I support renaming our civic spaces. There’s no reason, anywhere, to ennoble anyone associated with the successionist side of our Civil War. What other nation allows the names of vanquished rebels to be so glorified? That there is artwork and statuary honoring members of the Confederate States of America in our nation’s Capital is absolutely wrong. Take it all out.

Similarly, although I dislike the incessant naming of stuff after rich dudes (like Peter Faneuil) who obtained their fortunes within the context of the society they inhabited, I believe we need to erase the names of so-called benefactors when their fortunes were ill-gained even by the mores of their era. So good-bye Carl Shapiro, made wealthy through Ponzi-schemes, and adios anything named after the Sacklers, drug dealers in slick suits.

Peter Faneuil was not a perfect human being. None of us are. He made good—very good—operating within the social and economic constructs of his time. He rubbed some of his wealth off on a town that was happy to get a free marketplace and town hall. And he unwittingly built a Cradle of Liberty that became influential in overturning the very economic basis of his own wealth. That is the story that the name “Faneuil Hall” needs to tell.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

The Fog of War

Posted on 11/29/2023 by paulefallon
Image: Command Post Games

I find myself spending less time reading the news these days. Not because there’s less news. (Hah!) Not because I’m disinterested. It’s because so much of the news describes the wars in Gaza and Ukraine. I know these are important reports. I read the headlines. I scan the first few sentences of the articles. But my mind clouds. I cannot seem to follow the maneuvers, tactics, or strategies of Russia, the ground reclaimed by Ukraine; the October 7 inhumanity of Hamas, or Israel’s inhumanity for how many years leading up to that date. Let alone follow how the US’ sticky fingers insert themselves into these festering conflicts.

Sometimes I force myself to read deeper. Only to find myself reading, and rereading the same paragraph. Literally wondering whether the atrocities described are referencing Russians or Ukrainians; Palestinians or Israeli’s.

I’m a reasonably intelligent person, though I’ve long known I don’t possess a military mind. I’m lousy at chess. Miserable at video games. Can barely understand the X’s and O’s of a football diagram. When I read descriptions of battles, my mind retreats to more serene imagery.

Image: EverEdge Global

Perhaps this is due to my limited experience of violence. I have never been hit another human being; nor ever hit one myself. Never aimed a weapon at anyone, pulled a trigger in their direction, or launched a rocket toward someone I despise. I have a terrible temper and have spewed plenty of angry language at plenty of people, yet never once raised my fist to address frustration, abuse, or persecution. I simply have no point of reference that anything can be achieved through violence.

Yet I believe it is the larger question of human-on-human aggression that underpins my inability to fathom war. Like, who ever thought killing each other was a long-term solution to anything? I understand how, in the short term, might makes right. But it also makes simmering oppression that inevitably boils.

There are numerous words for a person of my world view. Pacifist. Clueless. Idealist. Naïve. I bear them all. What twist of life could make me understand, even embrace, the merits of war? If I were a young Russian inspired by Putin to annex what I patriotically believe is rightfully mine? If I were a Ukrainian citizen invaded by a mighty foreign power? If I were an Israeli kibuttzer dependent on a border fence to the keep the Palestinian hordes at bay? If I were a Palestinian, fenced off from a homeland I consider mine? What if I were robbed at gunpoint on the streets of Cambridge? Or perhaps within the shelter of my home? What if North Korea launched a missile aimed at my zip code? Or an invading army from name-your-favorite-terrorist-group conquered Strawberry Hill? What would it take to awaken my mind, my body, and my soul from the fog of war to embracing it as crystalline reality?

I like to think that I will never render violence against another human being. But I’m also aware that, nestled in my safe and cozy community, I’m unlikely to ever suffer what many innocent citizens endure. I hope I never encounter what that breaking point might be. And in the meantime, I hold dear my vision that war is futility, and will share that vision until more men—all men—retreat from warmongering and realize that the only virtue in the fog of war is to make us numb to the notion that war offers a permanent solution to: anything.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Tree Owl

Posted on 11/22/2023 by paulefallon

Walking home from the gym on a drizzly day-before-Thanksgiving, a swirl of white attracts my eye, tucked between the vertical 2×4’s bound across most every tree on my ever-under-construction street.

Upon closer inspection, it’s an owl’s head, painted on the back of some bark, eye centered on a hole in the trunk.

The feather tucked between the bark and the trunk is a delightful detail.

Thanks to whatever artist graced our tree with such elegance and whimsy.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING TO ALL!

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , | Leave a comment

Greenwashing

Posted on 11/15/2023 by paulefallon

Two facts that encapsulate the callous—maybe even downright cynical—attitude that humans have toward actually addressing business-as-usual in the face of climate change.

Photo Credit: David Rodrigo
  1. Dubai is hosting the 2023 UN Climate Change Conference this month. The same Dubai with an annual average daily high temperature of 91 degrees F, that boasts the world’s tallest building, man-made islands in the shape of palm trees, an indoor ski slope, and a Trump golf course in the desert. Dubai was recently named one of the top five sustainable cities by EuroNews, in large part because of a snazzy new development called, “Sustainable City.” The endorsement does not mention that “Sustainable City” actually encompasses less than 1% of the area of Dubai. The rest of the place is still a fossil-fuel playground.
  1. The Chair of the UN Climate Change Conference is Sultan Al Jaber, Minister of Industry and Advanced Technology for United Arab Emirates; also, by the way, CEO of Abu Dhabi National Oil Company.

If you think this UN flight-fest of talking heads to a place unfit for human habitation has anything to do with actually making our planet more resilient, or our ways of living more sustainable, you are a sucker for greenwashing. Or a fool. Maybe both.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

What is Your Junk doing on Our Public Sidewalks?

Posted on 11/08/2023 by paulefallon

I understand. I mean, what’s a person to do?

You’re tripping over the stuff on the bedroom, there’s boxes lining the hall, the attic is cluttered, the basement’s full, the garage hasn’t sheltered a car in twenty years, and both storage buildings are maxed out. You eye that plastic fountain that created a cascade of water and marveled your toddler for all of ten minutes, three years ago, and you decide: someone else’s life will be made better by this great toy. Can’t seem to find all the pieces? No problem. Folks in this nifty neighborhood love to improvise.

So you pick it up as best you can. Shuttle it out the door and down the steps. Walk it two houses down to the corner and set it on the sidewalk. Try to get it to stand in some semblance of playful intent. Then skedaddle before anyone can pinpoint you as the (former) owner.

Or maybe you open the kitchen cupboard and a mug falls out. You have a mug for every day of the month, but others must be in need. So you grab a cardboard box (got plenty of those, thanks to Amazon), and deposit eight mugs. Toss in your great-aunt’s cut glass pitcher and pair of chipped vases while you’re at it. Lug is down and out. Place it on the curb. Feel benevolent that you have enriched the life of some stranger you’ll never meet.

On any given sunny Saturday in Cambridge, the sidewalks are littered with folk’s junk.

Sometimes they put out useful, pricey items that have outlived their usefulness. Even with some thought involved. The Nordic Track with the sign that shouts, “Free! It works!” The stroller that bears a heart and a motto: “I hope that your child loves it as much as mine did.” With just a bit more effort these folks could post on Craigslist FreeStuff and connect with a viable user without creating a public tripping hazard.

But who am I to quibble, when the really bothersome stuff are the cartons of, frankly, junk. Broken glass, out-of-date textbooks (it is Cambridge, after all), entangled baby mobiles, the complete paperback collection of Danielle Steele, cracked bindings and all. Inevitably, it rains overnight, leaving soggy Sunday morning seconds. Pick up that damp cardboard at your peril.

The trash collectors, god bless their souls, must pick up the mess on Monday, because even the most worthless junk never lasts into a second weekend.

I don’t know who was ballsy or drunk enough to start the trend, but it is in full swing. And I wish it would stop.

Actually, what I really wish is that folks would just say no to all the crap in the first place.

That will never happen, for reasons beyond my comprehension. When the good lord hoisted me into the stork’s bundle, they left out the shopping gene. I’ve never met an object so magical that it triggered, “I’ve got to have that.” But most humans are thus infected. Which is why storage units are such a great investment.

And so, I maneuver around the sidewalks and bypass other people’s junk. Thankful to the core, that it never was, and never will be: mine.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

Between Ta-Nehisi Coates and John McWhorter

Posted on 11/01/2023 by paulefallon

I read Ta-Nehisi Coates’ Between the World and Me. It made me uncomfortable. I felt his anger and frustration. I realized that I never would, could, experience such alienation. I live in a world that’s powered by people like me, for people like me. I’ve never considered that fair, though I’ve always tried to be grateful for the benefits arbitrarily bestowed upon me. Tried to use them to raise up others. My conscience allows me to sleep at night, though I imagine that Te-Nehisi Coates would find me lacking.

I read John McWhorter’s Woke Racism. It made me even more uncomfortable. His rebuttal of systematic oppression by labelling it as a religion of the Elect—with all the intolerance that religion encompasses—is an appropriate metaphor for our divisive culture. He defines our current moment as an ‘ideological reign of terror’ that ignores the reality of racial progress we’ve made since slavery, Jim Crow, and the era of Civil Rights. He believes that the religion of structural oppression and anti-racism, like all religions, can never be satisfied. It will just spin into ever more minute pressure points. But McWhorter’s tone is haughty, snide. And from my perspective, defining—and damning—yet another subset of self-appointed-all-knowing ‘others’ doesn’t do anything to help bring us together.

Between the World and Me (2015) was the first of a trio of books (White Fragility by Robin DiAngelo (2108) and How to Be an Antiracist by Ibram X. Kendi (2019)) that have become the defining texts of the perspective that the United States is a nation steeped in white supremacy that’s structurally baked into every aspect of our lives. Woke Racism (2020) is a quick and strident denunciation of those ideas.

In the world of structural racism, every aspect of our society is girded by oppression by whites against others. In particular, Blacks. I find this perspective useful. We had a Civil War and emancipated our slaves. Then we backpedaled into allowing the rebellious states to reassert their power, thus enabling Jim Crow throughout the South and less obvious forms of racism beyond. The Federal government was complicit. How else to explain that the New Deal’s signature program—Social Security—exempted farmworkers and domestics. Is it coincidence that these jobs are predominantly done by Black people? Or did FDR cave to Southern democrats? Is it a Catch-22 that WWII’s GI Bill provided low-interest mortgages for returning soldiers, but not within red-lined neighborhoods, most often the only places Blacks were ‘allowed’ to live? One can argue that those restrictions no longer apply, but they are the roots of the racial wealth gap that thrives to this day. (According to the Federal Reserve, the wealth gap between Black American families and white American families in 2023 is a whopping $986,000.)

But wait a second, chimes in McWhorter. Haven’t we made great progress? The vast majority of Americans are less prejudiced than in decades past, opportunities for Blacks have never been greater. To damn a society as structurally racist when we have achieved so much (albeit not enough) is to conflate current conditions with the reality of slavery and the misery of Jim Crow. It dismisses the achievements of the Civil Rights movement. McWhorter equates our nation’s current preoccupation with race as a sort of religion that lays a burden of guilt on white people and actually diminishes the potential—and accomplishments—of Blacks.

Which view our society is correct? Neither, and both.

What they share in common is our current penchant for driving a singular point of view without regard for, dare I say, nuance. Each remains strict to its doctrine, and therefore fuels division.

We don’t need any more division. We need antiracist folks to acknowledge that while structural racism is a valid and accurate construct from which we should improve our society, that when they extend it to proclaim that being punctual is a ‘white’ thing, doing well at school is a ‘white; thing; and striving for perfection is a form of oppression, the application has gone too far. We are more than simply cogs in larger systems. We are individuals, hindered by biology and environment, boosted by unique talents. We have agency. We have the ability, and responsibility, to make our mark on this world.

Meanwhile, McWhorter’s supporters need to acknowledge that people are born to very real differences of opportunity. People will always be born with disabilities; others will be athletes, others geniuses. We will never be able to create a truly level playing field. But we must strive toward that goal, especially regarding race, since those are arbitrary definitions we humans created ourselves, and which we have the ability to erase. That doesn’t mean I’m burdened by white guilt. It means I embrace the opportunity to rise above how my forefathers acted.

Antiracists and antiwokes each stake extreme, strident positions. It’s time for them to loosen up, acknowledge the limits of their world view, and embrace some of the other guy’s perspective. Time to stop shouting at each. Time to talk, and listen.

Posted in United States | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

Questioning the Language of Solidarity

Posted on 10/25/2023 by paulefallon

“In a broader sense, I know what happened to Iishea Stone: a luminous and extraordinary woman was failed repeatedly—by her family’s pathologies, by poverty, and by a social safety net that couldn’t seem to catch her, Had Iishea grown up with the advantages I had, she might have accomplished anything. Instead, she suffered acutely and slipped away so invisibly that, thus far, the Kelly [the last place she was known to live] does not know what was done with her body. How many Americans are we losing this way? How can we—the wealthiest nation in human history—tolerate those losses? The fact that we can, and do, despite knowing that it is wrong, is what is meant by the moral cost of homelessness.”

That is a paragraph from page 16 of Jennifer Egan’s seventeen-page exploration of homelessness, “Off the Street,” published in The New Yorker, September 18. 2023. I likely would have read the paragraph as just another representation of The New Yorker style, articulate and insightful with an accent on the personal. Except that I was also in the middle of reading John McWhorter’s Woke Realism. And this passage speaks directly to his criticisms of our current state of cultural affairs.

The lush adjectives—luminous and extraordinary—bestowed upon the downtrodden. The past perfect tense that places a distance between the author, reader, and actual person in question (Iishea…was failed by…). The parallels between author and subject (had Iishea grown up with the advantages I had) that postulate the differences between a renowned author and a homeless person as circumstance. All of which concludes with one person’s tragedy becoming a stand-in for national failure.

Woke Realism is a difficult book to read. I don’t agree with many of Mr. McWhorter’s points. Actually, I choke on many. He writes in a broad, preacher-like voice that makes more proclamations than it fully justifies. I understand his reasoning: John McWhorter is a black author (and linguistics professor at Columbia University who refuses to capitalize the word, black) battling what has become the prescribed world-view of the liberal left. He has to be loud and dogmatic to be heard over the din. It is a point of view, in 2023, that can only be expressed by a respected black intellectual: anyone else would immediately be cancelled.

McWhorter argues that to insist that systemic oppression still exists in this country is folly, considering the tremendous advances and increased opportunities available to all. To be sure, he acknowledges that advantages are not equally distributed, and that blacks more often begin life with fewer. But measuring the relative privilege each of us enters this world with is not the point. The point is, what do you do with the advantages you are bestowed.

Basically, he advocates agency. In McWhorter’s world, being born black presents surmountable hurdles, and lamenting systemic racism is a cop out. Not unlike being diagnosed with ADHD, and appreciating the insight to help you better navigate the world rather than use it as an excuse to do poorly in school. He argues a very-much minority point of view. Then again, it’s always easier to be the victim than the agent, to let things happen to you rather than to attempt to direct events, to complain rather than accept whatever consequences befall.

But McWhorter’s argument goes deeper. He criticizes the so-called equalization that occurs when we see ourselves as cogs in cosmic systems of oppression and privilege. Who benefits when we trumpet solidarity with the oppressed? Does it provide food or shelter or opportunity to those in need? Or does it simply salve the conscience of those who have decided to wear guilt?

I am a huge fan of Jennifer Egan. She is an insightful writer of elegant prose and well-conceived stories. I don’t know what privilege she enjoyed growing up, only that she measures it as more than Iishea Stone’s. Regardless, not everyone with Jennifer Egan’s privilege grows up to write compelling novels and wins a Pulitzer Prize. Her privilege did not deliver that accolade. She earned it. Comparing herself to Iishea Stone does nothing to change her accomplishments. Nor does it elevate Iishea Stone.

Iishea’s Stone’s life and death is a tragedy. The way we treat people living on the streets is a national horror. Jennifer Egan’s well-researched and thorough report about how one Brooklyn facility is trying to counter this tragedy provides useful insight that can help guide better solutions. There is no need for Ms. Egan to place herself in the article. Except that to do so is the language of our times. A language that linguist McWhorter warns us to cleanse.

Posted in United States | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

Tribute to the New Rep

Posted on 10/19/2023 by paulefallon

I received a message in today’s email: New Rep is closing its doors. This time for good. Forty years is a good long run for a theatre company. Still, I am so sorry to see the New Rep go.

The New Repertory Theatre was founded by Larry Lane in 1984. Early seasons (1985-2005) were staged in a church in West Newton, where New Rep tackled challenging material in an unconventional space. We sat our hard chairs on a flat floor and looked up at the tiny stage where actors tore into one another. American Buffalo. Topdog/Underdog. Audiences used our imaginations to fill in so-called production values: the signature quality of New Rep was always the acting; What I experienced in that claustrophobic space remains with me to this day. Perhaps the rawest theater I’ve ever seen.

Topdog/Underdog at New Rep 2005 – Photo from New Rep website

In the fall of 2005 New Rep ‘graduated’ to become the resident company at the Charles Mosesian Theater in Watertown’s revitalized Arsenal Yards. A spacious 339-seat theater with excellent rake and large stage. As with any step up in the world, the advantage of becoming established came with unique challenges. Watertown isn’t uber-liberal as Newton, so the company polished its edginess to attract bigger audiences to its larger space. Also, the Arsenal didn’t boast the array of downtown dining spots theatre-goers crave. New Rep had to hope that free parking would compensate for slimmer dinner options

I subscribed for several years. Gritty shows, like The Pillowman (Fall 2006) featured high caliber acting, but its intensity diminished in the voluminous space. The company rose to the challenge of larger productions, such as Ragtime (Spring 2006), but other theatres in the Boston area offered similar fare.

Ragtime at New Rep 2006 – Photo from New Rep website

When longtime Artistic Director Jim Petosa left in 2019, Michael Bobbitt’s short stint in that job coincided with the pandemic, leaving New Rep in a vulnerable state. The company closed.

And then, nine months later, New Rep attempted a phoenix-like resurrection, with an ambitious vision: a complete focus on inclusion and diversity; a collaborative process centered on new work by new voices; and a creative approach to programming. Instead of a sole Artistic Director, Angelica Potter became Director of Organizational Transition, working with an array of BIPOC Resident Artists. Instead of a traditional season of four to six plays running three to four weeks each, New Rep produced a buffet of musical events, readings, and community programming.

What would be an ambitious agenda for any arts organization, proved a Herculean effort for a company coming out of the pandemic with a vision that didn’t particularly match its community. Watertown is a vibrant, progressive, rapidly growing town, the next ring of urban Boston. Still, Watertown’s population is over 75% white, and less than 4% African-American. I can’t help but wonder that the New Rep’s vision was shaped more by its board’s commitment to under-represented voices than an assessment of what the community would support. When a company commits to producing only BIPOC work, it can lose patrons who seek a broader theatrical experience.

New Rep’s 2023 season included three plays: Larry Kramer’s The Normal Heart; Lorraine Hanbury’s A Raisin in the Sun, and Diaspora! a new play by Phaedra Michelle Scott; each produced in the intimate black box rather on the Mosenian Main Stage. The productions reminded me of New Rep’s early days: simple sets, lighting that highlighted the actors, all of whom were remarkable. An actor friend of mine who was in The Normal Heart told me that New Rep actually paid the cast above scale, such was their commitment to the craft.

New Rep 2023 Season – photo from New Rep website

Thus, the 2023 season brought New Rep back to its roots: revealing difficult stories in a dark space through exquisite acting. It is unlikely that New Rep will rise yet again. But let’s hope there is always a place in our community for companies like it: people who come together to express the tragedy and glory of the human condition, and bring it into the light.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , | 2 Comments

Same Old Same Old Violence

Posted on 10/11/2023 by paulefallon

Adrienne LaFrance’ cover story “The New Anarchy” (The Atlantic, April 2023) provides an historical perspective on the nature of violence in our country and how it cycles through history. This particular passage, centered on the early 20th century anarchist Luigi Galleani, resonated with me:

The conditions that make a society vulnerable to political violence are complex but well established: highly visible wealth disparity, declining trust in democratic institutions, a perceived sense of victimhood, intense partisan estrangement based on identity, rapid demographic change, flourishing conspiracy theories, violent and dehumanizing rhetoric against the “other,” a sharply divided electorate, and a belief among those who flirt with violence that they can get away with it. All of those conditions were present at the turn of the last century. All of them are present today.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment