Posts Tagged Carolyn Pool

2020-2021 SEASON ANNOUNCEMENT

Park Square Announces 46th Season

Fresh and Forward Looking Series Features Artistic Collaborations and Three World Premieres

MEDIA CONTACT
Connie Shaver, shaver@parksquaretheatre.org

Saint Paul, Minn., Feb 28, 2020 – Park Square Theatre announced the Harris Family 2020-2021 Theatre Season today, the company’s 46th.  The coming season is supported by a major gift from the John W. Harris family. The series kicks off in fall with a rebellious comedy rescheduled from the summer, and continues with artistic collaborations, three world premieres, one musical and two mysteries.

The season opens on the Proscenium Stage with guillotines and a cry for liberty with the regional premiere of THE REVOLUTIONISTS by Lauren Gunderson (Oct 2 – Oct 25, 2020). Produced with PRIME Productions, the show will be directed by PRIME co-founder Shelli Place in her Park Square debut. Four spirited women lose their heads in this irreverent comedy set during the French Revolution’s Reign of Terror. Playwright Olympe de Gouges, assassin Charlotte Corday, former queen (and fan of ribbons) Marie Antoinette, and Haitian rebel Marianne Angelle hang out, murder Marat, and try to beat back extremist insanity in 1793 Paris. This grand and dream-tweaked comedy is about violence and legacy, art and activism, feminism and terrorism, compatriots and chosen sisters, and how we actually go about changing the world.

Two white women sit in directors chairs. They are drinking whiskey and have two whiskey barrels at their feet.

Carolyn Pool (L) and Shanan Custer (R) in Bad Things, Good Whiskey. Photo by Richard Fleischman, hair and make-up by Jancyn Bindman.

Woman-centered writing continues on the Boss Stage with the world premiere of BAD THINGS, GOOD WHISKEY by Shanan Custer and Carolyn Pool (Oct 23 – Nov 22, 2020). Directed by Elena Giannetti and featuring music by Rhiannon Fiskradatz, this “comedy on the rocks” is the final installment in their beverage-inspired trilogy from the creators of 2 Sugars, Room for Cream and Sometimes There’s Wine. The comedic duo weave together “scenes from life and stuff we think is funny” – only this time the drink is a spirit as strong as the women who drink it!

November brings a special season add-on presentation of Katha Dance Theatre’s world premiere of SHAAMYA – OF EQUALITY (Nov 5-8, 2020) with choreography by Rita Mustaphi. Inspired by the poem “Of Equality” by Bengali revolutionary poet Kazi Nazrul Islam, this multicultural dance piece infuses poetry, gospel and R&B music with original Kathak choreography. This new work, with music composed and performed by J.D. Steele and poetry by Somali poet and playwright Ifrah Mansour, makes parallels between the experiences of today’s communities of color and those of Nazrul Islam’s era.

Winter brings the regional premiere of AIRNESS (Jan 29 – Feb 28, 2021) by Chelsea Marcantel. Five oddball rock fanatics go to dingy bars and cramped stages all across the nation to express their inner shred genius as they vie for a place at the National Air Guitar Championship. Following them on their quest to achieve ‘airness’ on the long road to qualification, this righteous and smile-inducing comedy shows how community is forged in unexpected places. “This show was the unexpected and universal hit for the group of Twin Cities theatre goers who accompanied us to the 2017 Humana Festival of New American Plays in Louisville, KY,” says Park Square executive director Michael-jon Pease.

Park Square and the Ordway, who first collaborated in 2009 on an acclaimed production of the off-beat Broadway musical Grey Gardens, present TRIANGLE (Apr 2 – May 9, 2021), with music by Curtis Moore, lyrics by Thomas Mizer, book by Curtis Moore, Thomas Mizer and Joshua Scher. Directed by Rod Kaats, this area premiere musical is original and compelling,  full of mystery and romance, with songs by two of America’s hottest new musical theatre writers. Two parallel love stories separated by a hundred years are woven together by the thread of the 1911 Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire in New York City.

Summer in Saint Paul kicks off with two very different mysteries by local writers. First Park Square presents the Full Circle Theatre world premiere production of FIRE IN THE NEW WORLD written and directed by R.A. Shiomi (May 28 – Jun 20, 2021). In the third installment of Shiomi’s popular noir-style detective stories, Sam Shikaze, hard boiled private eye, fights crime in Vancouver’s Japantown and beyond in the years after WWII.  This time the beautiful Japanese American wife of an ambitious real estate developer goes missing, and Sam is on the case. The show is smart and fun with a dash of social commentary and plenty of sly intrigue.

The final mystery of the season is at press time, still just that – a mystery. What is known is that the writer and director will be award-winning playwright Jeffrey Hatcher (Holmes and Watson, Sherlock Holmes and The Ice Palace Murders, Sherlock Holmes and the Adventure of the Suicide Club) and that the dates will be Jul 9 – Aug 15, 2021. “One of the projects we’re working on should get confirmed in the next few weeks,” says Pease. “It will be a treat to have Jeffrey direct one of his own edge-of-your-seat scripts. After all, Park Square has produced three of his mysteries over the years and Jeffrey even wound up making his Park Square stage debut for one weekend in Sherlock Holmes and The Ice Palace Murders, so it’s about time to get him on as a director as well to round out his Park Square resume.”

In addition to the full season of public performances, Park Square will continue to serve the region’s largest teen theatre audience with daytime matinees for students in 7th-12th grade of THE REVOLUTIONISTS and SHAAMYA – OF EQUALITY as well as from its repertory of literary classics ROMEO & JULIET, adapted and directed by David Mann, and THE DIARY OF ANNE FRANK, directed by Ellen Fenster.

Beyond Park Square’s theatre season, its two stages will continue to be a home for productions by companies from across the Twin Cities, such as Flying Foot Forum, Trademark Theatre, Zorongo Flamenco, Theatre 55, and the Mysterious Old Radio Listening Society. “The Boss and Proscenium stages are amazing assets,” says Pease. “Sharing them with our area’s amazingly varied artists helps make Saint Paul a vibrant destination for all ages and tastes. I’m particularly excited by a brand new partnership with Metropolitan State University’s Playwriting Program that showcases staged readings and workshops of new plays by their diverse student writers on the Boss Stage. Each season and each partnership reveals new ways to center our community’s multiplicity of voices.”

SEASON TICKETS are on sale now. Current subscribers have priority in ordering through March. Seating of new subscriptions will begin in April. Season packages range in size from all six plays and three add-ons in the season to a choose-your-own series of three or more. Subscription package prices begin at $66.

Purchase Tickets Here

The Ticket Office is open from noon to 5:00 pm Tuesday through Friday. Call 651.291.7005.

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PARK SQUARE THEATRE. 20 W. Seventh Place, Saint Paul. Ticket Office: 651.291.7005. www.parksquaretheatre.org

2 SUGARS TAKEOVER: It’s Like Real Life, But Funnier!

The Wine Chronicles, Chapter 2: It’s Like Real Life, But Funnier. 

Shanan and Carolyn continue their backstage conversation:

We often remark that the two hours we spend performing a show qualifies as a “totes legit” happy place, because we just get to exist in the world of the play. And “play” becomes a verb as well as a noun. We laugh so often in response to each other’s discoveries and deliveries that people usually wonder what is “real” and what is “the show”?

A little of both, actually. We’ve always written for ourselves, for each other, for aspirational circumstances as well as gritty, very “in the moment” spaces.

But, we like to laugh, too. The very best feeling in the world is knowing you genuinely made someone you care about laugh.

This is what we do offstage too!

And, that brings us to our audience…these people that are coming to see what our brains cooked up and are putting out here on the Andy Boss Stage. A lot of time, our creative process starts with, “Do we think it’s interesting? Does it make us laugh? Maybe it will make someone else laugh too. “

Shanan will often say, the very best sound is “the laugh of recognition.” And, that recognition is probably what makes our show work. One of the greatest compliments we’ve gotten from audiences is “this is just like my life, but funnier”. We love hearing that because it’s exactly what we set out to do. Taking real-life circumstances and finding the uniquely remarkable and hilarious moments and elevating them in the scene. It makes our job really fun. We are so happy you’re here to share it and laugh along with us.

P.S. THE SHOW HAS BEEN EXTENDED!!! The response to Sometime’s there’s Wine has been so wonderfully positive that we’ve added 4 MORE SHOWS! We’re now on stage through Oct 21. Get your tickets now!

Shanan Custer and Carolyn Pool are the 2 Sugars Show and creators of 2 Sugars, Room for Cream, Sometimes There’s Wine (currently running at Park Square Theatre’s Andy Boss Stage) and the upcoming Bad Things, Good Whiskey. When they aren’t performing, they enjoy reading, cheeseburgers, wine and planning their world domination.

 

2 SUGARS TAKEOVER: Hello From the Dressing Room

The Wine Chronicles, Chapter 1: Hello from the Dressing Room

Our dresses.

It is a true gift in life when one get’s to just do what one wants…especially with one’s very favorite person. Virginia Woolfe wrote, “a woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction.” Well, that may be true for fiction, and was true for Virginia, and, in some ways, the sweet little life that Shanan Custer and Carolyn Pool have carved out at Park Square this fall fits this thesis too. Here’s a little glimpse into the “room of our own,” the Dressing Room.

Of course, there are the “costumes” we wear in the show, various shades of burgundy dominate as you probably guessed, along with adorable shoes.

Shanan is kind of a “nester” so her side of the room is beautifully decorated with photos of family, meaningful cards, various pretty things and a yummy scent diffuser for aromatherapy.

Carolyn’s side is a bit different. A couple of mementos, a make-up bag and an ever-present cup of coffee. She’s thinking she might need to embellish a little!

Shanan’s side.

 

Carolyn’s side.

Look at these cute coasters you will see at restaurants around town!

Also, there is wine. We do ENJOY wine. And, yes, it is real wine on stage with us although we drink very little of it during the show. We’re working pretty hard up there! When we’re done though, it’s nice to unwind in our dressing room with a glass or two of vino, before heading to Meritage, Vieux Carre, Kincaid’s or The Saint Paul Hotel. And, by the way, if you haven’t visited the great surrounding bars and restaurants, you should. Many of the nice downtown St. Paul establishments have partnered with Park Square to promote our show, and we couldn’t be happier about it.

So “hello” from the dressing room! Welcome to our theatrical home, we can’t wait to see you in the audience. Grab a glass of wine and get comfy. We are so glad you’re here.

PS. DID WE TELL YOU WE’VE EXTENDED??? Sometime’s there wine is selling out (we love you, thank you so much) so we’ve added 4 MORE SHOWS! Now on stage through Oct 21. Get your tickets now!

 

Shanan Custer and Carolyn Pool are the 2 Sugars Show and creators of 2 Sugars, Room for Cream, Sometimes There’s Wine (currently running at Park Square Theatre’s Andy Boss Stage) and the upcoming Bad Things, Good Whiskey. When they aren’t performing, they enjoy reading, cheeseburgers, wine and planning their world domination.

 

New Video: SOMETIMES THERE’S WINE

New Video: SOMETIMES THERE'S WINE

Looking for a little laughter as the weather gets chillier? Check out this sneak peak of the hit comedy Sometime’s There’s Wine, featuring the comedy brilliance of Two Sugars Show comediennes Carolyn Poole and Shanan Custer.

Star Tribune writes, “a delicious pairing – this piece offers all the joy of a lively conversation between two close and very clever friends.”

Tickets are going fast, get yours HERE before they sell out!

Wine, Women, and…Questionable Text Messages

Local comedy duo creates a “large pour” of laughter in SOMETIME’S THERE’S WINE

MEDIA CONTACT

Connie Shaver, shaver@parksquaretheatre.org

Park Square Theatre announces the return of renowned Twin Cities comedy duo, Shanan Custer and Carolyn Pool, to the Andy Boss Stage to open the 2018-2019 theatre season with a new production of Sometimes There’s Wine (Sept 14 – Oct 14, 2018). The follow-up to 2 Sugars, Room for Cream, which was featured in the debut season of the Boss Stage in 2014, is written and performed by Custer and Pool who are both Park Square audience favorites.  Both were featured in CALENDAR GIRLS and Pool opened last season on the Boss Stage in HENRY & ALICE: INTO THE WILD. Angela Timberman, featured in the 2016 production of THE REALISTIC JONESES by Will Eno, makes her Park Square directing debut.

The play’s debut at the 2016 Fringe Festival was a favorite for both critics and audiences, winning the coveted Fringe Encore.

“In the era of #MeToo, we feel women-driven comedy has a unique role to play,” says Custer. “Creating roles for women that say the things we normally don’t get to hear onstage is why we do what we do and, after the last couple of years, there’s even more to say.”

The production team for Sometimes There’s Wine includes Sadie Ward (Scenic Design); Michael P. Kittle (Lighting Design); Eric Webster (Sound Design); Megan Fae Dougherty* (Stage Manager); Kyla Moloney (Assistant Stage Manager)

Ticket prices: Previews: $20-$37. Regular Run: $25-$60. Discounts are available for seniors, military personnel, those under age 30, and groups. Tickets are on sale at the Park Square ticket office, 20 W. Seventh Place, or by phone: 651.291.7005, (12 noon to 5 p.m. Tuesday through Friday), or online at www.parksquaretheatre.org.   #PSTWine #2SugarsShow

*Member, Actors Equity Association

CALENDAR INFORMATION

Previews: Sept 14-20

Opening Night: Sept 21

Regular Run: Sept 21-Oct 14

Tickets: Previews: $20-$37; Regular Run: $25-$60

PARK SQUARE THEATRE, 20 W. Seventh Place, Saint Paul

Ticket office: 651-291-7005 or www.parksquaretheatre.org

 

 

Green: 7:30 pm, Orange:  2:00 pm

P – Preview
B – 99¢ Bargain Preview
D – Post-show Discussion
O – Opening Night
ASL – American Sign Language
AD – Audio Description
C – Open Captioning

FIRST-TIMER’S CAMPING STORY: Survival of the Novice

John Middleton and Carolyn Pool in a rehearsal as novice campers trying to set up a tent in Henry and Alice: Into the Wild
(Photo by Connie Shaver)

On stage now through October 22, Park Square Theatre presents the American premiere of the international hit Henry and Alice: Into the Wild on its Proscenium Stage. This hilarious comedy by Canadian playwright Michele Riml features Twin Cities actors John Middleton and Carolyn Pool as spouses Henry and Alice, two inexperienced campers who rely on a copy of Camping for Dummies to survive their ordeal.

Camping in the Great Outdoors can certainly be a terrific bonding experience amongst loved ones; but more often than not, it gives you some of the funniest memories to cherish. During the run of Henry and Alice, I’ll share those submitted to our blog.

Montana mountains from afar
(Photo by T. T. Cheng)

Here’s a story from a novice camper who went “into the wild” on her first try:

I’m a “city gal” who’d married a “country boy” so my first camping trip ever was to go into Montana’s Beartooth Mountains with his relatives plus one family friend, Ryan, who was the most experienced of the group. As “the expert,” Ryan freely dispensed advice on what to pack, ever cautioning against adding unnecessary weight to carry on our backs.

Being new to camping, my major concern was the lack of modern bathroom facilities; I was not looking forward to peeing in the woods. Doing it outdoors in the open was bad enough, but at least I could make sure that I wouldn’t run out of toilet paper and be reduced to using the vegetation on hand. So as we all sat around the living room, each gathering their own wads of toilet paper to pack (taking off the cardboard cylinder would reduce weight), I rolled extra for myself, which Ryan readily noticed.

“You know that you’re just adding extra weight to your pack,” he warned.

I didn’t care. I’d gladly give up an extra t-shirt or underwear to not run out of toilet paper!

Ah, nature!
(Photo by T. T. Cheng)

The next day we trekked into the Beartooths, and I was pleasantly surprised to discover that I had terrific stamina for hiking with a heavy pack and loved doing it. Ah, the fresh air and soothing sounds of nature felt great! Ryan knew the names of plants and spotted wild blueberries to pick and eat; bugs didn’t freak me out the way they would at home.

Finally, the time came when I needed to pee during a break. As an extra precaution to ensure privacy, I announced to everyone, “I’m going to find a spot over there!”

I found what seemed to be the perfect spot, set down one of the wads of toilet paper that I’d rolled under Ryan’s disapproving eyes, and went to it. My sense of relief, however, turned to horror as I watched the torrent quickly soak the paper. The spot I’d chosen was slightly angled downhill, and the wad was not set far enough to be clear of its path! Boy, was I glad that I’d packed extra toilet paper.

That evening I was to learn another new lesson when “the guys” taught me how to build a campfire. We crumpled up any wrappers, gathered dry twigs and found dry wood.

“Okay, now don’t do anything until we tell you to,” they instructed. “Go ahead and light the match.”

So I did. But then they got to talking while the match kept burning.

“Hey, guys!” I implored. “Can I light the fire?”

That immediately brought their attention back to me.

“Yes! Yes! Do it now!”

John Middleton and Carolyn Pool as Henry and Alice, start a campfire
(Photo by Petronella J. Ytsma)

I decided that next time I may not necessarily wait for exact orders before acting. But, hooray, I’d successfully started my first campfire.

Of course, I’d learned much more on the trail, from how to set up a tent to camp-meals planning (e.g., “everything soup” as the last dinner to be rid of leftovers and trail mix for the final breakfast).

The last lesson came after leaving the Beartooth Mountains. It was early evening, and we’d piled into our cars and headed to the closest restaurant for dinner. As the hostess led us to our table far to the back, it dawned on us that she was seating us as far as possible from all other diners.

A week in the wild makes you rather smelly. You just don’t notice when you’re being “one with nature.” But back in civilization, you do.

 

Have a Laugh with Carolyn Pool

When Henry and Alice: Into the Wild opens the season at Park Square there will be a familiar face in the cast – Carolyn Pool! A veteran of not only Park Square, Pool has been seen on many stages in Minneapolis and Saint Paul working with such esteemed companies as Illusion Theatre, Penumbra, Theatre Mu, Pillsbury House and countless new works at the Playwrights’ Center. She says, however, that Park Square has been a defining feature of her artistic work with such credits as August, Osage County, Proof, The Sisters Rosenweig, and Born Yesterday. The first time she tread the Park Square boards it wasn’t even at the current location in the Hamm Building, but at the old Lowertown venue in School for Wives.

Now Pool brings her talents to Henry and Alice along with fellow stage cohort, John Middleton. The two are not strangers, having appeared on stage together before at Park Square. That was in Dead Man’s Cell Phone where the two’s chemistry was duly noted. When asked about what she hopes the audience is able to take away from the play, she says aptly:

“I hope they laugh! I also hope they see some of themselves in these characters and maybe realize that they are not alone in their experiences. Telling stories truthfully and beautifully even if those stories are sometimes difficult is my greatest passion as an actor. And, when I can make people laugh and feel good too, that is the most wonderful feeling.” 
Carolyn Pool and John Middleton in the rehearsal hall last week (photo by Connie Shaver)

Making people laugh is definitely something Carolyn Pool has made a career of. If you’re well-tuned into the Twin Cities theatre scene you have probably heard about her two-woman shows, (co-created with Shanan Custer) 2 Sugars, Room for Cream and Sometimes There’s Wine. The former earned the duo a 2013 Ivey Award when it played at the New Century Theatre. Pool and Custer are frequent collaborators who are always looking for projects to write, act and laugh in together.

Indeed having a good time is almost certain when she takes the stage with Middleton and Melanie Wermacher. Mark your calendars and plan to join in on the fun on the Boss Stage September 15 – October 22.

 

Carolyn Pool, John Middleton and Melanie Wermacher  in the rehearsal hall. (photo by Connie Shaver)

More Funny Camping Stories

Photo by Petronella J. Ytsma

From September 15 to October 22, Park Square Theatre presents the American premiere of the international hit Henry and Alice: Into the Wild on its Proscenium Stage. This hilarious comedy by Canadian playwright Michele Riml features Twin Cities actors John Middleton and Carolyn Pool as spouses Henry and Alice, two inexperienced campers who rely on a copy of Camping for Dummies to survive their ordeal.

Camping in the Great Outdoors can certainly be a terrific bonding experience amongst loved ones; but more often than not, it gives you some of the funniest memories to cherish. During the run of Henry and Alice, I’ll share those submitted to our blog.

The stories just keep on coming:

We were tent camping: two adults, two kids, a baby in a travel crib and a dog. There was no room for the dog in the tent so she was outside “guarding” the campsite from invaders. All of a sudden, she was growling, then barking, then pheeww!! And more intense pheeww!!

The dog and the entire campsite was sprayed by the black and white furry invader. We had to leave and bathe the dog in tomato juice.

——

This episode took place at a church camp in South Carolina where I was serving as a counselor for a group of middle school girls. We had been assigned a covered wagon for our lodging. It was up off the ground, not easily entered or exited. Two of the girls were brand new to camping away from home. The rest were seasoned church campers. It was one of the new girls who had the challenging moment.

The six girls and I had gone to sleep after lights out. All one heard were the night noises of the forest, crickets, perhaps owls and a few mosquitos, given the humid climate of the South. Out of this lulling tranquility broke an urgent demand, “Ms. Jeannie, me gots to pee! Me gots to pee!”

Jumping to alert attention, I assessed the situation as quickly as I could. Time was not available for reaching the bathrooms down the path. Together she and I hastily determined that the only thing to do was for her to sit over the edge of the wagon and let nature take its course.

I imagine she has retold that story to her own children and grandchildren in the time since the early ’70s.

——

Camping with Jill’s son and family, we were startled when their dog, Balto, who was named after a famous sled dog, appeared on the road chasing a pickup while dragging a large log behind him attached to his dog chain.

Another time, we were camping as we traveled to Baltimore; and as I went to get some wood from a pile set up for that purpose, I saw a sign that said, “Beware of Snakes.” Well, at that time, we had no tent and I slept beside the car under a tarp. Imagine now myself, Jill and Mike all crowded inside our VW Dasher. The gearshift lever on the floor was a big challenge.

Then there was the time Jill’s brother-in-law decided to sleep on the top of the picnic table in the campground. When he awoke in the morning, he looked down to see a skunk sitting on his feet. Hmm, he escaped dire consequences even though he threw a shoe at the animal.

And finally, we have a large two-room tent whose main room has a waterproof floor. The plastic extends up the sides a couple of inches and provides ample protection under most circumstances. On a camping trip, we set up the tent; but the ground was pretty uneven. Wouldn’t you know but a storm blew in that night, and the rain and lightning were severe. Soon the rain made its way into our room, and air mattresses were of no help. Couple that with lightning strikes close by, and we chose to sleep in the back of our Blazer. The storm passed but, the Blazer was actually quite comfortable.  Well, sort of.

A Fishy Camping Tale (Yet They Are Still Married)

From September 15 to October 22, Park Square Theatre presents the American premiere of the international hit Henry and Alice: Into the Wild on its Proscenium Stage. This hilarious comedy by Canadian playwright Michele Riml features Twin Cities actors John Middleton and Carolyn Pool as spouses Henry and Alice, two inexperienced campers who rely on a copy of Camping for Dummies to survive their ordeal.

Camping in the Great Outdoors can certainly be a terrific bonding experience amongst loved ones; but more often than not, it gives you some of the funniest memories to cherish. During the run of Henry and Alice, I’ll share those submitted to our blog.

Here’s Christine of Kenyon, Minnesota, sharing a story about a camping trip with Dave, her partner of over 30 years:

Let’s get this straight right out of the starting gate. I am not a great camper. Given the choice, I would sleep in places that have ice machines and sheets and do not feature wood ticks or chiggers.

However, my husband Dave is the poster boy for camping enthusiasm. He could be a 1950s Walt Disney camping dad. He has hiking boots. He wears red flannel checked shirts. He dips his matches in wax before we go so they will stay dry. Campfires are like TV to him, and things that might dampen another person’s spirit hardly register in his mind. He doesn’t notice there are squiggly things on the bottom of a lake, and finding a leech on your foot leaves him unimpressed.

Dave loves camping so much that he will build the fire, cook all the food, haul all the gear in and out of the van, put up the tent and not be mad when you don’t want to hike AGAIN today, preferring to read your lurid vacation books at the picnic table while brushing the ants and jumping spiders off yourself.

Dave also loves to fish. If you talk to Dave about camping, fishing always comes up. I believe he is unaware that one could camp somewhere and NOT fish. Camping triggers the fishing lure (if you will). His eyes will glaze over, and he will begin to describe in detail the sheer nirvana of eating fish every day, fresh out of the lake. This man who cannot find ketchup in a grocery store and forgets to pack pants in his suitcase (when we go somewhere normal) is unfailing at remembering the cast iron fry pan, oil and cornmeal for frying fish.

This is a true story. It happened in the late 1980s. Camping then was particularly hard for a gal of my temperament. Regular folk did not have cell phones or little TVs. Laptops were unknown. We made fire with wood and charcoal briquettes and did not have fancy pop up tents or hats with mosquito nets on them. You don’t really need to know this historical detail, but I wanted to get credit for how brave I was then. I love my husband, and it was his birthday. So we went camping at Lake Texana, Texas–in the tent section because Dave is much too manly a man to succumb to an RV.

The minute we got the tent set up and our stuff unpacked, Dave went fishing on the dock. It had been a long trip, so we were going to have bratwurst for supper and, hopefully, fish for breakfast. We figured Dave had an hour to fish; then we should eat and get a good night’s sleep. I got out salad, onions and buns and put the brats on skewers. When all was ready, I walked over to the dock where Dave was fishing. Beaming, he showed me his stringer with four big “Sunnies” and assured me we would indeed have fish for breakfast. After effusive admiration of the fish, I told him it was time for supper.  Grumbling just a little bit, he gathered up his things and came back to the campsite with me.

When we approached our camp site, there was a flurry of furry movement hurrying into the bushes. The brats were gone. The end of the skewers were chewed, the salad had been tossed on the ground and all the walnuts in it had been carefully picked out and eaten. We found the empty bun bag torn and mangled near some bushes leading into a wooded thicket. There were bite marks on the mustard bottle.

Dave told me not to worry.  He could fry up the fish in no time. I think I saw a tiny gleam of masculine provider satisfaction in his eye. Maybe after supper, he said, he could do a little night fishing and get more fish for breakfast. His shoulders were broad and his demeanor proud as he strode off to the dock to get his stringer of fish. Moments later, he was back, empty handed. It seems there are alligators in Lake Texana. Apparently, alligators like a convenient meal of fish served to them all in one spot. Undaunted, we had trail mix for supper. After that, Dave went back out and came home all smelly and happy with a bucket of fish. He secured the bucket with a cover and a rock on top.

The next morning, we found a big wet spot where the bucket had been toppled. There was no sign of the fish. We did see paw prints and drag marks leading towards the thicket of trees and bushes near our spot. We had egg salad sandwiches from the cooler for breakfast.

Dave went on a hike. He likes to hike in the woods. He brings home a lot of trophies from his hikes: feathers, craggy pieces of wood, wood ticks, rocks which he claims are agates. We had lunch, and Dave went out to rent a rowboat. When he returned, we had a short negotiation in which his goal was to get me in the boat and go fishing all afternoon. My goal was to define “afternoon” and to secure a promise that, even if the fish were “biting” we would go to shore within 15 minutes of any announcement from me that I needed to find a bush to hide behind. A deal was struck; and after an exciting 12 weeks (or it could have just been three hours) of sitting in the wet rowboat, we had another bucket of fish and were back on the dock. The dock had a fish cleaning station so Dave cleaned our catch and brought the cleaned fish back and put them in our Styrofoam cooler instead of the bucket. He wedged the cooler tightly under the bench of the heavy picnic table, further securing it with several BIG rocks. We flip flopped down to the camp showers to rinse the smelly fish and grime off. When we came back, the cooler was still firmly wedged under the picnic bench. It had not budged an inch.  It had a lot of little raccoon paw prints all over the surface. A hole had been chewed out of one corner. When opened, it revealed more paw prints and no fish. We had baked potatoes for supper.

The next morning, Dave was out fishing early. By the time I made coffee, he was back with more fish cleaned and ready to fry. He put them in our heavy-duty plastic cooler–the one with the latch. In a rare moment of mean spiritedness, I saw him rub the latch with a cut jalapeno pepper. He went to get cleaned up, and I did a quick search for wood for the fire. We were gone 10 minutes. I was in woods about 100 feet from our site when I heard Dave say something in a loud voice. Never mind what he said exactly. You don’t need to know every detail.

Apparently, the raccoons of Lake Texana are not in the least thwarted by a simple cooler latch. The cooler had been ravaged. It was cooler Armageddon. The egg salad Tupperware was destroyed, the butter completely gone except for a tiny wad of chewed up paper. Two withered grapes were left on a remaining grape stem. All the cheese and lunch meat were gone, not even a shred of plastic wrap to mark their existence. Bottles of beverages lay in a blast zone-like pattern surrounding the cooler. You might wonder if, when finding the smorgasbord of delicacies that inhabit a camping cooler, those hoodlum raccoons would leave the local lake fish out of sheer boredom. You would be incorrect.

We are not stupid. We cleaned up the site and tossed the Styrofoam cooler.  Our main cooler and our non-cooler bag of food were in the van. We went for a hike and found a clearing with some beautiful tame deer that people were feeding by hand. Enthralled, I went back to the van to get the enormous camera we had in those days.

Approaching the van, I noticed a torn bag of corn chips dangling from the front window. The window we had left cracked about an inch so as not to be roasted alive in the blazing Texas heat should we want to go somewhere. THAT window. The size of the opening of the window was calculated to frustrate and defeat fish theft.

A few yards away, a gang of chipmunks were attempting to be invisible by sitting absolutely still in a little nest of mauled corn chip bags. I told them how shocked and disappointed I was in them. They did not seem in the least sorry.

We drove to a nearby town for lunch and to restock our supplies. That evening, I made “hobo stew” while Dave went fishing. If you don’t know, hobo stew is vegetables and meat of your choice wrapped in many layers of aluminum foil and then baked on your campfire coals in the aluminum packets. While I was sitting on guard of those packets, Dave took the rowboat out. I used my time judiciously, applying dots of calamine lotion to all my mosquito bites and unidentified itchy spots. My pale green capris complemented the pink polka dots covering my arms and legs. I was sure I was making a breakout fashion statement.

Dave returned triumphant, and we locked the evening’s catch in the cooler, in the van.  Unfortunately, after securely closing the door, we had a flurry of door openings and closings due to the need for “Nana-Ramas,” a treat that we felt we had coming to us.  Nana-Ramas are a banana with one strip of the peel pulled off, the banana split down the length, with chunks of chocolate (dark is better) squished in the split, a sprinkling of pecans and a spoonful of orange marmalade rubbed on the top. Wrap it in foil. Bake in the coals. There are lots of variations on this theme. My point is someone left the back of the van where the cooler was secured, unsecured. We are easily distracted by chocolate.

The next morning was spent cleaning out the back of the van where food goo and muddy raccoon prints were abundant, then getting the van jumped because of the dead battery due to the dome light, followed by going through a car wash for the vacuum and upholstery cleaning features. After that, we had brunch in town and went grocery shopping again. In the grocery store, I suggested we buy some fish to save us the trouble of going out again. This suggestion was not good for our marriage.

The next batch of fish were stolen straight out of the bucket WHILE WE WERE STANDING IN OUR CAMPSITE. (Okay, at the edge of the site, behind the van; but still, we were right there.) The park ranger had stopped by for a friendly chat just before leaving to go home. Our backs were turned, but I heard the bucket make a “whump” noise and looked over just in time to see a gang of furry hoodlums snatching up the fish and making a beeline for the bushes.

On our last full day, Dave had a determined air about him. We were leaving the next morning. This was his last chance to fulfill my dream of having fresh fish. I attempted to say something along the lines of “I’m just as happy with bacon and eggs,” but his lips were pressed together all thin and pinched. Being no fool, I agreed with him that this fresh fish business was my heart’s desire. I said I would make coleslaw and cut up some lemons. I should tell you now that we have been married over 30 years, and I fully credit my fish-friendly remarks to the success of our relationship. Don’t be led astray by advice from popular sources, such as daytime TV or women’s magazines. Chanel No. 5 can’t hold a candle to the smell of fried fish on your fingertips.

Dave packed a lunch for himself and spent the day in the rowboat. I didn’t see him until about 6 pm. I could tell from 200 feet away that he had been successful. He was covered in sweat and fish scales. He got a little six-pack-sized cooler out of the van and filled it with ice and cleaned fish. He started the fire. I noticed that he had one knee on the little cooler. Sitting a bit downwind of him, it occurred to me to offer to watch the fish cooler while he took a shower. I refrained from making any remarks with the word “stinky” in them. Just call me supportive. I know he trusts me, but that night Dave took the cooler with him to the camp showers. I am told he had it in the shower with him.

We did have fresh fish for supper. We watched the fire and talked about how great the fish was and about other glories and mysteries of life. Dave looked ten years younger. The little cooler was at Dave’s side, under his elbow. There were enough remaining fish filets for a hardy breakfast. These had been lovingly rinsed a second time, sealed in a plastic bag, and the little cooler had been refilled with ice.

Just before sunrise, I woke to the sound of quiet chirps and gentle rustling noises.  I looked at the tent door and saw a little grey paw patting the floor of the tent in a big fan pattern. The paw pulled out of the tent, and a little snout was thrust inside.  The snout veered toward the little cooler. Dave had brought it in the tent with us and put it near our feet. Chirping and rustling continued outside the tent. The tent door (zipper) was being tampered with, the little paws reaching now in the direction of the cooler! I moved the cooler up near the middle of the tent. I was being quiet, but the intruders panicked at my movement and scampered off.

In the morning, we found paw prints all over the van door, the back of the van, the tent entrance, the picnic table and around the campfire. Dave’s fishy jeans were lying in the grass halfway from our site to the wood thicket. His fish-scale bedecked t-shirt was gone.

We had a hearty breakfast of fish for breakfast. Dave looked every bit the conquering hero.

After breakfast, Dave decided he would look for his “lucky” t-shirt one more time before we left. A bit later, he came back to our campsite and got me. He led me into the thicket of woods, past the bush barrier. There, strewn in a giant oval, were the shreds of hundreds, yes HUNDREDS of empty food containers: bread bags, bun bags, pizza boxes, chips bags, occasional cereal boxes, peanut butter jars, Tupperware and random food tins. It was awesome.  It was the elephant’s graveyard of raccoon booty.  It was the lost city of Raccoon Gold. We were the Howard Carters to the Raccoon Tut burial chamber. It was a testament to the unparalleled food thievery powers that define the raccoon essence. We were humbled in the presence of these masters. We gave up the search for his lucky fishing t-shirt. It would have taken years.

Even with this loss, Dave smiled all the way home. At one point, kind of out of the blue, he said, “Boy, they really know what they’re doing.” He didn’t say a lot more, but I had the impression that losing all those fish no longer rankled now that he understood the scope of his opponent’s powers.

Another Funny Camping Story: The World’s Worst RV Park

From September 15 to October 22, Park Square Theatre presents the American premiere of the international hit Henry and Alice: Into the Wild on its Proscenium Stage. This hilarious comedy by Canadian playwright Michele Riml features Twin Cities actors John Middleton and Carolyn Pool as spouses Henry and Alice, two inexperienced campers who rely on a copy of Camping for Dummies to survive their ordeal.

Camping in the Great Outdoors can certainly be a terrific bonding experience amongst loved ones; but more often than not, it gives you some of the funniest memories to cherish. Before and during the run of Henry and Alice, I’ll share some humorous camping stories submitted to our blog. Be prepared to laugh until your stomach hurts after reading this one from Calvin of Asheville, North Carolina:

Calvin, Zach and Isaac before their horrible camping experience.

After riding our loaded bicycles since dawn in the 90+ degree heat, we stopped at the World’s Worst RV Park in East Cape, Ilinois, at about 7 o’clock. I was so hot and tired and fried from riding all day in traffic that I was ready to camp in the gutter. Maybe that’s why the dusty gravel parking lot that was supposed to pass for a campground looked OK to me. When I get really exhausted, my mind is less than keen. Blinded by the sun, I felt my way into the A-frame office, where a woman with a big black wig told me it would cost us $21 to pitch our tent under a leafless tree 20 yards from the highway. Wanting desperately to avoid crossing a busy bridge just down the road during rush hour, I forked over the dough. By the time we set up our tent, we knew we should have kept going, even though we had already ridden 70 miles. Steady traffic from IL Highway 3 assaulted us with noise, dust and fumes. A bouquet of sewage wafted out from under the bathhouse we were camping behind.

“We paid $21 for this dump?” Zach said. “We could get a motel for $30.”

“If we could make it over the bridge without getting killed,” I said.

He snorted. “The smell alone’ll kill us by morning.”

“This is what hell’s gonna be like,” added Isaac.

I bloodied my leg killing a mosquito and walked over to the pay phone on the wall of a car wash on the other side of the parking lot. The receiver of the phone was so hot I could barely pick it up. I stood sweating in the late afternoon sun talking to my wife Maria.

“We’re in an RV park a mile from the Mississippi.”

“That’s great! I can’t believe how far you’ve gotten. What’s all that noise?”

“Could be all the traffic on the highway we’re camped beside,” I told her. “Or maybe the boys kicking the drink machine?”

“How’re you feeling?”

I took a deep breath. “This has been one of the worst days so far. Hot, tons of traffic, incredibly awful camping spot, right by the outhouse. We’re all ready to come home before we kill each other.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll bet it’ll be better once you get back on some better roads.”

“Hope so. We gotta get through Cape Girardeau before we find any better roads.”

“How you gonna get across the river?” Maria asked.

“Bridge is only a mile away. we’ll cross early in the morning before the traffic heats up.”

“Be careful!”

“My middle name.”

We showered in the foul-smelling bathhouse and swatted at mosquitoes while we ate spaghetti and French bread again for what seemed like the hundredth time in a row. The dust settled on my sweaty body and transformed me into a Cape Buffalo.

“This sucks,” said Isaac. “I’m going home.”

“I may go with you,” I said.

“We should have gotten a motel,” said Zach.

Craving sugar, the boys walked across the highway to a restaurant. They returned with six huge slices of homemade blueberry, coconut creme, lemon chess and cherry pies.

Darkness, usually a sign of bedtime, brought to life bright sodium lights that lit up the inside of our tent like a police spotlight. If we zipped up the tent, it got hot as an oven. If we left it open, the bugs feasted on our sugared flesh. We spent a miserable night listening to heavy trucks grind toward the bridge to Missouri, swatting bugs and trying to find a dark spot in the brightly lit tent. We were too depressed even to listen to the radio. It was a lousy end to a long, hard day. The boys complained a little, but then Zach fell asleep and Isaac got quiet, too.

After a night of sweating in the hot tent by the busy highway under the bright lights enveloped by the stench of the bathroom, I knew the World’s Worst RV Park, in East Girardeau, Illinois, had taken its rightful place amongst the worst camping experiences of my life. I lay awake in my self-made hell, waiting for sleep or dawn, whichever might find me first.

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