All right, it was bound to happen: television’s closed captioning changed “COVID” to “Covered.” Don’t we wish! And thus we enter into yet another 600 words based on items I just can’t get out of my head.
As I write this, it’s the morning after we watched the landing of the latest space probe on Mars. The landing was perfect with little or no dust being depicted, a marvelous example of what science is able to do these days. But even that episode is eclipsed by yet another feature of that landing. How did the guy working the camera arrive ahead of time to film the event? It sort of gives credence to the unbelievers who claimed the moon landing was all filmed on the backlot of a Hollywood movie studio, doesn’t it?
Now that you’ve stopped smiling inwardly, let’s take a look at the advances in animation in children’s television. It boggles my mind to watch it. It more closely resembles filmed images rather than those hand-drawn films of the past where 20 or more pictures had to be drawn to merge into one second of animation.
It is amazing how these modern cartoon characters emerge without someone having to draw umpteen images just to depict raising a finger or blinking an eye. Real or not, modern techniques beat the old ones in every way. But even with those modern techniques employed, it’s hard to better the response — and bring more moisture to our eyes — than our reaction when Bambi realized his mother was dead. Do you agree?
I was pleased with the article in last Thursday’s Chronicle about the steps taken by The Evergreen Playhouse to make sure that they’ll be able to run at full speed when restrictions caused by COVID-19 are lifted completely. It is certainly a different operation than it was in those first days in 1960 when plays were presented in the ballroom of the Lewis & Clark Hotel.
My working schedule at KELA didn’t allow me to join the action until just before the present building was purchased 12 years later. Those early days were fun, such as when I directed my first play, “Arsenic and Old Lace,” about two old but sweet ladies who get rid of unpleasant people by killing them with poisoned elderberry wine and then having their nephew bury them in the cellar!
It’s a comedy of course.
The stars of that production were two Playhouse founders, Ann Caldwell and Margaret Oliver. From then on, love of the place kept me active and involved in all aspects of the theater, from acting and directing for the next 48 or so years all the way to my final appearance on stage — not too long ago — as an old delivery man who couldn’t speak a word after carrying heavy boxes up five flights of stairs.
True, the increase in size and activities has taken away the feeling that it once had of being more like a family. But the number of presentations and the variety of them has made the transition — from there to the point where its operation is now — more of a community activity. And, I can’t complain when a photo accompanying The Chronicle story had — on a wall in the background where it belonged — a picture of me as an old man wearing a white suit.
The thought comes to me that I could fill several columns bragging about the fun I had, but who’d read it?
In closing, don’t forget that you can consider yourself to be an old-timer when you remember when gas stations had rest rooms and you didn’t have to pump your own gas — and they checked your tire pressure as well.
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Bill Moeller is a former entertainer, mayor, bookstore owner, city council member, paratrooper and pilot living in Centralia. He can be reached at bookmaven321@comcast.net.
