Friday, May 10, 2013

The best of times, and the best of times.

It's the middle of the night and I'm wide, wild, and wooly awake - -

When a person is a playwright, and two of the plays written are about to launch, the playwright often has a difficult time settling down at the end of the day.

So it is for me - right now.

Two plays - two delights -

One, my funny, funny show - SWEET TRUTH - is about to be be "world" launched in Columbia, Missouri at the Berlin Theatre.

And two - my show, EFFIGY - not as funny, but certainly humorous - premieres at my own Minneapolis-based Mixed Blood Theatre in August.

Of course - a reasonable playwright would sleep well under these conditions.

"My work is done," a reasonable person would say. "Time now for Pinot Grigio on the patio at W.A. Frost's."

Instead, I'm wide awake, imagining new scripts and new directions.

One will be with the Minnesota Historical Society and the commission I'm about to begin on our shared,  new production with Tim Stolz.

Another is certainly the play I'm revising for a Midwest theatrical producer.

And a third is my stalled, new show "Growing Up Goodrich."

But Goodrich will have to wait for a while.

I'm dreaming of an effigy-laden summer!  Tonight I designed the postcards, created the posters and fussed over the Mixed Blood stage diagrams given to me by the delightful Fringe Festival professionals.

The park bench is assembled - a dear friend is creating my "hanging tree" and tying a fresh, hard noose.  He does this for me from memory.  The Boy Scouts, it seems, teach their Cub Scouts to tie a hang man's noose.  Go figure.

And while you're figuring, I'm going to go to bed.

It's been a wonderful, wonderful day - and although I hate it to end, another awaits after a few hours sleep.

My wish for you - that one day you will be as happy as I am.

Never, never walk away from your art.

Dance, sing, create, and dare.  In the end it is the only thing that saves us.

I know this.  Because art continues to save me.


Friday, April 12, 2013

Confessions of an unrepentant tattletale

You'll get no apology from me.  If you're doing something against the law and I see it?   I'll blow the dang whistle on you.

I did it when I worked for the Minnesota Department of Corrections.

I did it when I worked for a certain women-serving nonprofit cheating its unsuspecting funders.  And I'll do it again.

Consider yourself warned.

Don't let me catch you stuffing a box of company paper in your briefcase as you punch out.
 I'll tell the boss.

If you're one of those unfortunate parents who insists on taking your exhausted toddler to Cub Foods at four o'clock in the afternoon,  you better watch your back.

Don't you dare slap that little bink in front of me.  I'll call the frickin' county.

I'm one of those moral fruit cakes you've read about.

I am a whistleblower.

Tattletale as a rightful legacy


I come to this odious behavior honestly.

My mother - bless her self-righteous soul - trained me in the fine art of radical truth telling.

I was seven-years-old when she issued her first order. 

"If anyone, " she said, "ever asks you to do anything I wouldn't want you to do  - you come home and tell me right away." 

Never mind the lack of logical thinking in that demand.  I listened.  I obeyed.

When ten-year-old Mike Zeller asked me to go into his garage and "pull down" my panties - I told him I had to first ask my mother.

The rest is Goodrich Avenue legend.

Mike, last I heard, was doing time at Moose Lake.

The Zellers moved to California, never to be heard from again.

And I went on to become a professional writer.  A notable tattletale.

No one escapes my righteous indignation.

When my children were young,  I wrote a column for the Star Tribune.

For the first several years, my girls were a common topic.

Piano recitals.  Political slights by the public schools.  The charming ways in which their little worlds reflected the larger issues of society.  That's what I wrote about.

Then, one day - my seven year old came home from school, fierce in her rage against me. 

"I didn't know you wrote stuff everyone reads, " she said.

I reminded her that the circulation of my newspaper was several million readers.

"You have to stop," she said.  "Right now."

I assured her that was not going to happen.

"At least," she pleaded,  "stop writing about me."

And so - a truce was forged.  And I stopped writing about my daughter Grace.

That is - until writing this blog - - where, I guess, I blew the whistle on her.

Which only proves - I'm not to be trusted. 

Don't let my sweet smile, my blue eyes, my little-old-lady affect confuse you.

You bring bibles into my public school?  I'll call the American Civil Liberties Union.  You stop one of my friends from speaking out a school board meeting?  I'll call the police.

I do it for our collective good.  I do it to make you a better person. I do it because I can't do anything else.

The logic of my whistle-blowing mentality might not resonate with your timid approach to citizenship.

But trust me.  You can't trust me.

I'm a frickin' tattletale. 







Wednesday, February 13, 2013

BELIEFNET blows it. Feminism is NOT a dirty word


Seriously, is the F-word offensive? I'm proud to call myself a feminist

Kristine Holmgren

 As a playwright and pastor, I was delighted to be offered a new blog on a faith site – but not at the expense of my beliefs



Let me be clear: I'm a feminist playwright and proud of it. I'm also a Presbyterian pastor. I've built a successful career marrying these peculiar, male-defined vocations.

When the faith and spirituality site Beliefnet invited me to blog for them, I was delighted. In my circles, Beliefnet is a well-known resource. Writing for them would add national scope to my own website and blog.

Blending my unique expertise, I suggested the title: "Notes From a Feminist Pastor". But before the ink was dry on the contract, Beliefnet asked me to delete the word "feminist". A Beliefnet representative wrote to me:
"(We're) concerned about the negative connotation that our readers may associate with the word. We'll want this blog to focus more on Christianity/spirituality as opposed to issues related to feminism. What do you think of … 'Sweet Truths with Kristine Holmgren'?"
I told them to take a hike. I can't work where feminism is not celebrated. I'm proud to call myself a feminist.

And why shouldn't I be? Feminism proclaims all people are created equal, irrespective of our gender. It is the simple belief that women are people, entitled to respect, protection and equity under the law.

I'm old enough to remember pre-feminism, and the bad old days before feminism saved us. I remember when newspapers listed employment opportunities under two categories; "help wanted-male" and "help wanted-female".

"Administrative assistants" were men; "secretaries" were women. "Custodians" were men; "maids" were women. Never mind that they did the same tasks. Equal pay for equal work was never a consideration.

I remember my first job interview: the hiring manager asked if I was married, if I planned to marry, my boyfriend's name, his age, his occupation and when I planned to have children. Every question was legal. Not one was asked of the men interviewed.

And I remember when all girls were expected to find a good guy, marry after high school, take their husbands' names, get pregnant and disappear. But my generation of women had other plans for our futures. We were not about to march, lockstep, into motherhood. Nor would we settle for the dead-end, low-paying jobs our older sisters hated and suffered.

Instead, we raised a royal, riotous ruckus. We marched, we yelled, we shut down businesses. We fought for equal rights in the workplace, equal funding for education, for athletics. We fought for abortion rights, equal pay for equal work, protection against sexual and domestic violence.

We did so because it was the right thing to do. We were feminists. And we still are.

Make no mistake, the work we did to bring about social change was done so at great personal sacrifice. Every time a woman rose to speak for freedom of choice a personal reputation was ruined. Even so, my generation of women thought nothing of defending the rights of other women at the price of our own futures.  We measured the loss and found it worthy of the gain.
Feminism made us sisters. Individually, we were impotent females. Together, we were a social force.
Historians call us the "second wave" of the women's movement. We were born after women gained the voting franchise. In some ways, our call to action was more difficult than our mother's. Once achieved, the vote will never disappear.

Not so with our accomplishments, apparently. For example, a recent poll by the Pew Research Center, released in January, found that over the past two decades, the further we get from the ruling on Roe v Wade, the less young people appear to know about it. Among those younger than 30, only 44% polled knew the case was about abortion; 16% thought it had to do with school desegregation.

Beliefnet, and its staffers, do not understand the stake in forgetting our history, and trivializing the sacrifice of previous generations. Here's what they told me:
"I agree with the ideals of feminism. But our readers are offended by feminism. And we can't risk offending our readers."
Consider the many titles that offend: "liberal", "environmentalist", "progressive", "humanist" … It's time, I think, to reclaim them all. Time to start calling ourselves who and what we are, with pride and purpose.

Think of how hopeful the world would be if every progressive was proud of the title, eager to find likeminded folks. Imagine your local city council confronting a room full of people calling themselves liberals, without apology. Do you think our common life would be changed if corporations had to contend with outspoken, strong environmentalists, committed to securing a healthy, prosperous planet?

Imagine a world where men, women and children were proud to say who they are and what they believe. It is time to reclaim freedom of thought, freedom of choice, freedom of self-definition.

And it's time to be proud to be feminist.


Sunday, February 10, 2013

Cranky no more

For almost ten years, I sat in this same chair in this cafe, writing my opinions for the Star Tribune.

In those days, I never ran short of criticism.

Trained by cranky immigrant Swedes, I grew up watching the world with a wary eye.

When I needed to write social criticism, I had little difficulty.

Inconsistencies were everywhere.  Lies, failures, shortcomings, and the ever-present flaws of humanity were ready for the picking.  I sat in this little chair and cherry-plucked from the vast and infinite flaws of my little world.

Today, I sit in the same little chair in the same little cafe.  I'm sure I'm wearing the same jeans, same sweater I wore fifteen years ago.

What I see, however, is far different from what I saw in those early days.

Art changes everything

Today, my world has no edges.  All the sharp contrasts from the past - the things that inspired me to  charge into righteous indignation - are muted into common effort.

Writing for the theater changed me from a comely curmudgeon to a near-obnoxious optimist. 

Instead of aligning myself with the great, ink-stained wretches of my former career and calling, I align with the bright, careless, lovely and lonely beauties and freaks who affiliate with the stage.

The beautiful people of theatre


When I pick up my pen, I think of the young, beautiful, globe-trotting actor  known for her scarves; so much, her friends assume that every lost piece of cloth belongs to her.

I think of the playwright who can only pen what she knows through her long experience as an actor.  She writes for those who deliver the goods - and not those who review them.

I think of the director who only works with young people; not because he enjoys them - quite the opposite.  He works with the young because if he didn't do so, no one would.  And he understands the importance of creativity.

These, and others, came into my life when I stopped criticizing.

And when I started creating.






Saturday, February 9, 2013

BeliefNet tells me to not use the "F" word!!






Beliefnet tells writer: Don’t use the word ‘feminist’ on your blog

“Guess which Minnesota Playwright was invited to BLOG for Beliefnet?” Kristine Holmgren wrote on Facebook in early January. “Yup! Your favorite cupcake, me!!! I’m negotiating “terms” right now…!” beliefnet
Beliefnet staffers “were very excited about me” blogging for them,” Holmgren told me on Wednesday, a day after negotiations broke down over use of the word “feminist.” The editors and marketing people “gushed” over her portfolio, which included columns that Holmgren says had been picked up by the Chicago Tribune and Baltimore Sun.
“I said to them [during a group interview], ‘You’ve got to know that I’m a Presbyterian pastor, but I come to the world as a feminist.’ They said, ‘That’s fabulous. We want a wide range of views on the site.’” (Beliefnet, which was briefly a News Corp. property, was acquired by BN Media in 2010. It calls itself “the leading website for spirituality, inspiration and emotional wellness.”)
Two days ago, Holmgren got this email from Beliefnet marketing and business analyst Sharon Kirk:
We’re ready to get started on the header for your blog however first we need the title of your blog and any creative direction you may have (i.e. colors you want to include, any themes, a headshot, etc.). I believe you and Jana previously tossed around a few title possibilities including “Feminist Pulpit Notes.”
While I agree that title is certainly straight forward, I think it would resonate with our readers more if the title was a bit “softer.” Our readers are looking for editorial that’s uplifting, motivational, inspirational, etc. and I think your blog will perform better if the title speaks to that aspect of your blog. Do you have any ideas along those lines?
Holmgren replied: “How about – “Sweet Truth – Thoughts of a Faithful Feminist” – ?”
Kirk had problems with that, too.
I love “Sweet Truth” however I would suggest changing the tag line or deleting all together as I’m concerned about the negative connotation that our readers may associate with the word feminism. In addition, we’ll want this blog to focus more on Christianity/spirituality as opposed to issues related to feminism. What do you think of simply “Sweet Truths with Kristine Holmgren”?
“I think we need a conversation about this,” Holmgren told Kirk. “Please phone me.”
The pastor/writer says she asked Kirk over the phone why she had a problem with “feminist.” The Beliefnet marketer said she didn’t, but that “we know our readers are offended by the word.”
Holmgren tells me: “I asked, Why did you contract with me? I made it very clear who I am. I said, I’m afraid this is a dealbreaker. I said was I stunned. I felt like I was talking to somebody from 1955.” (I emailed and called Kirk for comment, but have not heard back from her. I did the same with Beliefnet marketing vice president Brandy Grenier, who hasn’t replied.)
Holmgren announced to her Facebook friends Wednesday that the Beliefnet deal was off:
I spoke a few moments ago with the contact at BeliefNet. She told me – not only can I not use the word “feminist” in my title, I cannot use it on the blog.
Kristine Holmgren
Kristine Holmgren
“The word offends so many people,” she said. She said I should come up with a word that was “softer.” I told her I didn’t think there was anything “softer” than feminism; a word that denotes equality for men and women and respect for children and families. She said “I agree, but. . . ” so I told her their inflexibility on this was a “deal breaker.” She regretted my “feeling” on this (by the way – - this isn’t a “feeling.” It’s a “thought system.” Some people’s kids!!! ) and said, “We can conclude this without rancor.” I said, “Oh, no we can’t.” I’m writing about this one.

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Monday, January 28, 2013

Overheard at a coffee shop; An old woman's wisdom.

When she was a small child, she posed in front of her nursery mirror - fascinated with her reflection.  Sometimes she emulated Betty Davis.  Sometimes Shirley Temple. 

When she was old enough, her mother enrolled her in tap dance classes, hoping to channel some of that ham-bone energy into something constructive.

It worked.   Twice each year, the tap school dressed her in frilly, fluff-flounced costumes, put her on stage with a dozen other little show-offs,  and together they tapped their way to elementary school stardom.

When she turned 13-years-old, her tap-dance gang joined the downtown YWCA where they spent their Saturdays doing something called "creative dramatics."

Swimming, archery, bowling and hula absorbed their weekends, and she made new friends who introduced her to neighborhoods and families she might never have met and enjoyed.

In high school, she auditioned and was cast in every onstage opportunity. In college, where the competition stiffened, she turned her ambition to philosophy, religion and service.

Now, in retirement, she realizes that her life has always been grounded in the joy and opportunity of performance.

She built a professional life in social work, peppered it with a life-long love of writing and dance. Today - she is an actor.

And last night, a young person asked her for advise.

Sure - it's been easy for you.  Your generation, he said, grew up with guarantees.  But what about me?   No Social Security - no Medicare - no guaranteed pension - no promise of insured savings.  How will I ever be happy?

Happiness is sharing your art, she said.

 Money, of course, will always be important.

But  the secret to happiness, she said, is not money.  The secret is living a life grounded in art - in expression - in communication.

Find peace, she said,  in practicing your art.

Celebrate it in what you communicate to others.

Share it in the art you create every day.

And never believe the millionaires.  Suzy Orman is a liar.  Donald Trump is not a role model.  Bill Gates is a rare duck.

Don't believe what they tell you and don't believe what they write.

Money does not mean security - and the truth is - you need much less than you now believe. You all ready have everything you need to be happy, she said.

"You all ready have everything you need to be happy, she said."

Joy.   It's in you, she said.  Share it.

Love.  Everyone around you needs what you have, she said.  Shower the people - and be kind to yourself.

Peace.  Every great thinker and lover knows that this is the yearned-for virtue, she said.   So it is for you.  Work for it.

If you accept these virtues within yourself, and share them with others - you'll find the money you have is more than what you need.

The greatest quest is the one that leads you to peace.

I finished my decaf - leaned back in my booth and remembered the words written long ago - by another wise, older person.

"Hope, faith and love abide - these three.  And the greatest of these is love."

May all your love lead you, this year, to the expression of your "art,"  the living of your "joy," and the generous seeking after "peace." 




Tuesday, January 1, 2013

GOD GIRL - at the History Theatre

Kristine Holmgren shares the inspiration behind her new career as an emerging Minnesota playwright.

Thursday, December 20, 2012

GOD GIRL - a Raw Stages reading at the History Theatre

 
Monday, January 7 / 7:00 pm
God Girl
by Kristine Holmgren
directed by Austene Van
Princeton Theological Seminary, 1976. The war in Vietnam is over, the women’s liberation movement is in full swing, and idealistic Kris Holmgren joins the first large population of women seeking ordination into the Presbyterian ministry. Will she survive the cynical, sinister secrets of her new career?

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