Thanksgiving will forever have a distinct meaning to me.
Four years ago…
5 days before turkey day:
After a routine blood he was admitted to the hospital in order to stabilize some blood-cell-thingie counts. Not a big deal and some-what routine.
4 days before turkey day:
Looking good, joking around and wanting to go home. He’s told just one more day to be safe.
3 days before turkey day:
Ring, ring: Get to the hospital, something’s wrong.
Something about coughing fit….blood rushing to brain…..alarms go off in the main deck. The tiny commander of the brain orders the rest of the tiny workers in the brain to perform an emergency shut-down of all systems in order to prevent further damage.
The wait begins.
2 days before turkey day:
A survey shows significant damage was done before the deck crew was able to shut down all systems.
We’re told contact cannot be made with the tiny brain commander.
Communication appears lost.
Communication channels will continue to be scanned.
In the meantime we’re told to prepare to maybe make a very hard decision.
Several calls are made in an effort to garner support and to help discuss drastic measures.
1 day before turkey day:
All discussions are put on hold until all parties are present.
The cavalry of love and support will arrive in 2 days.
Evening before turkey day:
Sent little brother and little sister home to get rest. Big Sis and Big Bro will stand watch.
Things appear normal, -or as normal as they can be at the moment.
They have to clean the room so we have to step outside for a few moments.
A little before midnight I make the decision to leave to get a much needed drink with friends. Big Sis is cool with this. She will keep watch.
I can’t leave because my jacket is the room.
After about 15 minutes, we finally are allowed back in room.
Before I can get my jacket on, alarms and beeps go off.
“What’s that?”
Nurses scramble and call doctors. Frantic pace. Nervous fill the room and butterflies fight in my stomach.
“What’s going on?”
“We think he’s leaving”.
Nothing.
Blank.
No words. No thoughts. No nothing.
Don’t know what to do or say. Everything seems so….unreal.
“I’m going to call Paty and tell her to come back.”
“No. Don’t leave me…stay with me, please.”
I don’t know how much time passes before the frantic pace of movement stops.
Shyly and almost apologetically, the nurses leave the room.
Sound goes away.
Sound comes back.
So does understanding.
…I just lost my Father.
*
We have a theory. Maybe he knew the situation his children had been put in and the severity of the decision they were being asked to make.
So, maybe, just maybe, he didn’t want to put us through it. So maybe he ordered the tiny commander in the brain to shut down all systems….permanently.
Maybe.
*
We chose not to make this day one we’d dread. We know what happened, but we also know we have a family to lead, and the best way to lead it is the way he’d want us to lead it. With laugther.
We’re not perfect, but we’re trying.
*
A few months later I made this video for my sisters and little brother.
I don’t know if my little brother ever saw it or if the rest my Dad’s family ever saw it.
I think LeBron’s kissing my ass now. He recently said that the NBA should retire the number 23, worn by Michael Jordan, and that nobody should use it out of respect for Jordan.
I already said I was a fan, bro! You don’t have to make me like you more!
Well, I’m a bigger fan now. You happy? Son of a…
*
I was teaching a class at iO last week, and while watching a scene between two students, there came a point in the scene where they got a fun reaction from the rest of the class, and I muttered to myself:
“…And there’s your laugh”.
I don’t remember using that term before so I kind of freaked myself out a bit because I realized the last time I heard that phrase was years ago. I heard it in a class at Second City from one of the kindest and most encouraging teachers I have ever had.
Martin, or ‘Marty’ as he was often called, was the person that introduced me to this wonderful art form and community of amazing people.
I took an improv class from Marty in college, and learned of Second City in his class. He’s the one that later encouraged me to take classes there.
After a year of college, I took his advice and started my Improvisational education at Second City. A little over a year later, I was fortunate enough to get hired as a performer at the legendary theater. On my first day as an employee, I walked into the back offices to get some tapes to study, and I ran into Marty.
He came up to me, put his hands on my shoulders and said “Welcome Home”.
It was a moment I will never forget because of who it came from, what it meant at the time, and how it was delivered.
For more reasons than one, Marty was one of the most respected improvisational teachers of his time. He was also one of the most encouraging and kindest –if not thee kindest –person to ever teach and direct this art. He was known as someone that always made sure to check in with you if he saw or recognized that you needed to be checked on.
He loved this art so much and what it had the capability to a person, and it showed in his classes.
I later got to know someone that shared the same passion for this art: Del Close.
In their time, with their similar love and passion for this art form, Del was often known as the cranky and stern Father of Improv, while Marty was known as the kind, nurturing Mother of Improv.
Del passed away in March of 1999 and Marty passed away in February of 2001.
Along with my great friend, Jeff, I created a documentary for Del shortly after he passed. I am extremely proud of that film and continue to show it at Improv Festivals around the country, but I always felt a twinge of regret that I was never able to create a similar piece for Marty.
I have no idea why one of Marty’s class quotes crept into my brain that day. I do know that although it freaked me out a bit, it also felt very good. It took me away for a moment and when I came back I was smiling. If that was Marty’s way of saying Hello, I’ll take it.
If I am ever given the chance to access archive footage, notes, etc., from Marty, I would gladly put forth the effort to create a documentary for him because not only was he a huge influence to me, he very much deserves it.
I can try to put a nice cap on this little tribute to him, but I can’t come close to the words Lisa Lewis wrote
in an article she wrote shortly after Marty passed away:
“His ability to support and nurture young talent was legendary, as was hi gift at providing a warm and safe environment for anyone taking an interest in his work—performers and non-performers alike.
And while our grief is deep, we can and will celebrate what de Maat brought to Second City and to his place in the world. His kindness and brilliance will live on in every playful and
joyful moment an improviser or audience member has while experiencing the art-form
Martin de Maat helped create.”
*
While we’re on the topic…
There is a group at the iO Theater made up of old friends and veteran improvisors that goes by the name “3033”. They play every Sunday night and consistently put up extremely good shows.
Last weekend they had one of their best shows and I hope the young improvisors in attendance were doing more than enjoying a good show; I hope they were learning.
This team does an extraordinary job of showing that more often than not, all you need for a successful and entertaining scene is right at the top. Stop looking past what was first said and or done, and if you’re patient, you will find magic.
A few weeks ago while watching this show I commented to a fellow improviser that it was weird how many younger students and improvisors come to watch this show, but don’t realize that week to week these guys are giving them the perfect example of how to create art out of nothing –and have it be highly entertaining at the same time.
So if you’re one of us, next time you watch this show, make it a point to also treat it like a class. Pay enough attention and you will find that what you take from it will make you a better improviser.
If you’re not one of us, come to iO Sunday nights, sit back, and be prepared to be highly entertained by some of Chicago’s finest Improvisors
*
I haven’t done ‘Lotto Time’ in a while. I was going to do it, but I was thinking that for the past few months, on and offline, I’ve been blabbing about my two tv shows that I grew to love and that have now become maybe the top two tv shows of all time for me. I’m speaking of ‘The Wire” and “Battlestar Galactica”.
Many people had a hand in making me give in to watching these shows, but I would not have become a major fan and happy addict of both of these shows if I didn’t have easy means to watch them both from the comfort of my own home with my darling 50 inch plasma without the kindness of friends Jorin Garguilo and Adal Rifai.
Jorin owns most of the BG series and Adal owns all of the Wire series, and they were both kind enough to let me borrow the sets with no timetable.
So I thought it would be more than appropriate to have a special Lotto Time for these two cats.
I met both Jorin and Adal around the same time and we gradually became friends. They are both very good improvisors and very nice people in general.
I don’t think you can spend more than 10 minutes with either one of them without kicking yourself in the face for not having gotten to know them sooner.
Jorin sat in with ‘Felt’ a few times and it wasn’t long after that that we decided to add him to the cast. The more I got to know him, the more I realized how lucky we were to have him, and lucky the theater itself is to have him. He’s an exceptional learner of the art and his passion and eye for the work shows both in his play and his direction of others.
I got to know Adal more gradually through friends. The more time I got to hang with him, the more I realized how nice of a guy he is. Talking to him you get the sense that he’d donate a kidney to you if you asked him. He just comes across as that nice of a guy. He too is very talented and very fun to watch on stage.
I’m happy I got to know them and that they are part of the same community.
Jorin and Adal, thank you for being my friends.
OK, I’m done sounding like I want to bone these two jerks.
