Tag: theatre

Margerumalia – Out For A Spin

Eric Margerum

Newsletter – June 6, 2025

PHOTO CREDIT: http://www.swient.com/how-to-recognize-vertigo-in-children

I went to see my doctor to tell her I had vertigo. She said it was all in my head. [Rim-shot.] 

I always wanted to try stand-up comedy, but could never come up with any good material. Having seen the recent trend toward life-experience-as-stand-up I thought I might have something. 

I do. Or I did. I had vertigo.

Do you remember going on a ride at the playground where the whole point is to enjoy the dizzy? Where the spin is the fun? Vertigo feels like that, only it’s not intentional, nor fun.

About 3 AM I woke up to a shout. It was me. I stood up from the bed and the entire room was doing that spinning thing. I fell back into bed. Which didn’t help. At all.

I reverted to the earliest skills of childhood and grabbed onto furniture to toddle my way to the bathroom. I collapsed in front of the porcelain god and waited for the inevitable upheaval. It didn’t come.

I’ve learned a thing or two about my body over the years, and one is that it prepares for the old heave-ho with a few deep breaths, much like a pearl diver getting ready for the big the plunge. That night I spent over thirty minutes clutching onto the toilet bowl while hyperventilating. 

Let me be clear. There were two of us there in the middle of that whirlpool. Me, hugging the bowl. And my body, preparing for that dive.

For. Thirty. Minutes. 

I know because I wear my Apple Watch to bed so I can keep track of my sleep statistics. Turns out that Apple doesn’t clock vertigo. 

Last year I was teaching high school students how to fall safely on stage so they could do it over and over again in performances without getting hurt. THAT was when Siri checked in on me and offered to call 911. During a case of the spins? Not so much.

It was time. I needed help. I called out for my wife.

We sleep in separate bedrooms. I snore. She tosses and turns. We learned long ago that if we wanted to stay together we were going to have to split up. At night.  

I’d like to be able to say I called her name with a robust voice like Tarzan summoning Jane in the jungle. Instead I was more like a toad in the pond. 

“Debbie!” I croaked. “Come here, I need you.” 

I’m sure Alexander Graham Bell summoned Watson with much more panache on the world’s first phone call. 

Debbie, bless her heart, has baby monitor hearing and was at my bathroom door in three seconds flat. Well, I was flat. She was standing there asking me what was wrong, and should she call for an ambulance. 

Why did I do the stereotypical guy thing and say she didn’t need to call the ambulance? I mean, did I call out so she could wake up and enjoy the phenomenon of my total disorientation?

After ten more minutes of hyperventilation and I finally agreed to the ER Express. 

Somehow, even amidst the mind-storm of staggering to the bathroom, I had managed to slip into some sweat pants. Which was handy because one wants to be fully clothed when visitors come to call. I also dragged myself into the hall so the EMT’s didn’t need to extract me from the vomitorium.

In the ER they gave me the vertigo diagnosis, or labyrinthitis. Hey! Perfect for a guy who just released a middle grade novel about a family that has to find their way out of a museum through a maze! …or labyrinth.

I’ve got pills now, because, you know, the world revolves around pharmaceuticals. (Had enough with the revolving metaphors? Me, too.) At least the pills dull the nausea and the rotation sensation. (That was the last one, I promise.)

And I’ve had an MRI. Who knew a brain could be clinically described as “grossly unremarkable”? 

That phrase sounds like it should be from a play by Oscar Wilde: “She lacked poise, she lacked depth, she had a distinct paucity of charm, wit, and acumen. She was, in fact, grossly unremarkable.” 

The acupuncturist is the only doctor who has helped me get better. I hate needles, but that’s another story.

TTFN

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My middle grade novel, The Most Amazing Museum of Los Angeles, is available through The BookBaby Bookshop at https://store.bookbaby.com/book/the-most-amazing-museum-of-los-angeles

Margerumalia – My Brush With Fame

Eric Margerum

Newsletter – May 30, 2025

PHOTO CREDIT: https://www.nbcnews.com/news/obituaries/george-wendt-cheers-dies-76-rcna208080

“Norm!” everyone yelled when George Wendt walked into the bar. We raised our beer mugs in tribute to his passing this past week.

I started watching “Cheers” on TV the first year it came out. The show had an endearing theme song and it centered around a group of people who were a little quirky and enjoyed a good chat. I felt like I knew them immediately.

I almost did.

I was working as an assistant manager at Crown Books in Studio City when one of our regular customers—not unlike the regulars on “Cheers”—came into the store and asked me if I’d heard the news about the actor playing Coach. He had died.

Yes, I assured him, it was on every channel. The befuddled but sweet character was a favorite who was nominated for three Emmys over three years. I really liked that guy. 

“Did you know they’re planning to replace him?” 

“Really? That’d be hard to do. I don’t know if the audience would accept a different Coach.”

“They’re not gonna have another Coach,” Regular Customer told me. “They’re going to replace him with one of his ball players who is exactly like him, only younger.” 

“That’s a great idea!” 

“The character’s name is Woody. And he’s your age.” 

That’s the thing about working in LA, in a place called Studio City, the information orchard was always ripe for the picking, and this was within arm’s reach. RC was eying me now, waiting for my next thought. 

“Have they cast him yet?” 

“Not yet. You should call your agent as soon as you can and get that audition. You’re perfect for it.” 

Not to say that I was dim-witted like Coach, but that I could play Woody easily.

When my agent took my call she admitted she was looking at me and one other client to submit. They would only let her choose one. I assured her that I was the one for the job and that I knew the series well, and please, please, please give me a shot. 

Okay, maybe I only said please once, but I got the chance to audition! 

I went to the casting agent’s office off Sunset Boulevard near the Hollywood Freeway and got to read the sides. Those are the script pages they give you for the audition. It featured Woody in a one-sided phone conversation where he clearly didn’t understand what the other person was saying. 

Did I ace it? I don’t know, I was pretty nervous and bubbling with adrenaline. They told my agent I did a good job, so that was nice to hear. 

And then they hired some guy named Woody to play the role of Woody. C’mon, people, you don’t have to take the script literally!

I continued watching the series after that and Woody Harrelson hit the mark on every show. Even though I wanted to, I couldn’t fault his performances. 

I kept watching “Cheers” all the way to the last episode and often thought about how my life would have been different. The closest I got was doing a play with one of the semi-regulars who hung out at the bar with Norm and Cliff.

I could’ve been friends with those guys. And they would’ve known my name.

TTFN

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If you received this email because it was forwarded to you by a subscriber, welcome. You can subscribe as well by following the link on my website: ericmargerum.com. A free story awaits you there.

Margerumalia – International Museum Day

Eric Margerum

Newsletter – May 23, 2025

PHOTO CREDIT: icom.museum

This past Sunday, I heard on the radio that it was International Museum Day. Well, why did you wait and tell me on the day of? C’mon people, give me some room to run with this little gem!

Having set my novel in The Most Amazing Museum of Los Angeles, and building on that theme in the much-anticipated sequel The Most Amazing Museum of Chicago (I, for one, am dying to know how it turns out), I should be informed about this International Day for Museums. Heck, I even blogged a recommendation for Mike Gayle’s book The Museum of Ordinary People (Margerumalia, January 17, 2025). All museums honored here!

Clearly it’s up to me to seek out the information and share what I learned. You’re welcome.

Oh, dear. I went to the icom.museum website and I’m afraid it’s rather stodgy and very academic sounding. Their photographers, on the other hand, really know what they’re doing. There are lots of really interesting photos that make you say, “That’s interesting. I wonder what’s going on here?” Especially in the Sharing Is Caring section.

That’s what we want to know, isn’t it? What are these people doing here and why? …And then what happened? …And then what? Stories are our common bond. 

Somewhere in the Black Forest of Germany, my mother sensed that my brothers and I were bored by the tapestries, the thrones, and suits of armor gathering dust in the umpteenth castle of the day. So she took us outside. 

A small square pond about the size of a Little League infield sat low in a clearing surrounded by  tall shaggy oaks. Mossy bricks edged the still water and no breeze blew through this fine and private place. 

“Hello?” my mother shouted, only to be answered by her own voice. 

“Hello?” it said back. 

We looked at her blankly. 

“That was the Echo,” she told us. “Let’s see if we can find her.” 

And even though we knew it was a game, we dashed up and down the little hillsides, looking behind tree trunks and vine-covered stones to see if we could find the mysterious Echo. I think we even shouted a few times to hear her shout back in our own voices. 

After about twenty minutes of this game, my brothers and I were nearly spent and remarkably capable of touring another bedroom in the nearby castle.

Echo went with us. I know because I heard her mocking the tour guide with his own voice even though he didn’t shout.  

Fifty-plus years later, I still remember that exciting moment when Mom made the echo into a sprite called Echo. 

And this morning, two little boys walking with their mother and calling me “a grandpa” rushed ahead when I told them that the yellow post at the top of the hill was good luck if they touched it. We all earned our good luck this morning.

That’s the kind of museum I want to remember. And a lot of the curators have figured that out. Especially the children’s museums who say, “Go ahead. You can touch it,” because they know we learn through all of our senses, not just our eyes.

TTFN

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My middle grade novel, The Most Amazing Museum of Los Angeles, is available through The BookBaby Bookshop at https://store.bookbaby.com/book/the-most-amazing-museum-of-los-angeles

Margerumalia – The Great Chicago Fire

Eric Margerum

Newsletter – May 16, 2025

PHOTO CREDIT: NewYorker.com

Did the Great Chicago Fire really begin in the O’Leary’s barn or was that just a story?

Were the sidewalks of Chicago in 1871 made of wood like you see in the old westerns or were they made of paving stones? Because wood burns, stones, not so much. 

Why do the photos of Chicago from that time period show telephone poles along the streets when telephones weren’t invented yet? The patent for the Bell Telephone wasn’t granted until 1876.

It’s interesting the questions that pop up when you’re writing about historical events. I hadn’t thought about the number of things I’d want to know to create a realistic picture of the past.

In The Most Amazing Museum of Chicago two of my characters travel back in time to the Great Chicago Fire and I want the readers to feel like they were really there. 

Yes, the fire did start in the O’Leary’s cow shed but there are multiple theories about how it began and who was responsible, so I get to make that part up. The kids in the story will witness it and may be partly responsible. The O’Leary’s house was spared because the fire spread north away from their home and you can find maps on line showing the devastation that followed. 

The sidewalks of Chicago in 1871 were wooden slats in some places and paving stones in others, depending on wealth and location. Modern poured concrete wouldn’t come into use for another twenty years. It was probably used in the later rebuilding of The Windy City.

And the telephone poles are actually telegraph poles. I had no idea that the telegraph lines would be all over the place like that. I don’t know how I’ll use that information, but it’s interesting to know.

I’m reminded of when I directed a production of The Outsiders a couple of years ago—not the musical version that’s currently just on Broadway—and I had to tell the kids not to give each other high fives after they successfully fought off the other gang of teens. When I told them the move hadn’t been invented yet, they looked at me like I was telling them shoes hadn’t been invented yet. The high five developed out of the “gimme five” hand slap of the 1960’s and wouldn’t be commonplace until the early 1970’s. The Outsiders takes place is the mid-1950’s, so a high five would be completely out of place. The actors found other ways to celebrate their victory.

As a writer friend pointed out, you don’t want to cause your reader, or audience member, to get distracted by things that are out of place. You just want them to be in the story.  

TTFN

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If you received this email because it was forwarded to you by a subscriber, welcome. You can subscribe as well by following the link on my website: ericmargerum.com. A free story awaits you there.

Margerumalia – Winter at the Wellness Center

Eric Margerum

Newsletter – February 21, 2025

PHOTO: I took this photo at the Wellness Center on a cold January morning. The flags were still at half mast commemorating Jimmy Carter. The sun was trying its best to squeeze some light between the clouds, giving a feckless mood to the day.

BOOK NEWS: I was able to add The Best 10-Minute Plays 2024 to my author page on Amazon. Once they understood that there were, in fact, fifty authors (playwrights) featured in this volume, and that I was one of them, they promptly added this title to my name. Sometimes all you have to do is ask!

As I wrote before, I get nothing when this book is sold, but I do hold performance rights for my play. When I was a theatre professor at Carthage College I bought several such collections as a resource for my annual one-act play festival, faithfully paying for the rights to mount many short plays over seven years. Hopefully someone will want to send me money to perform “Just Book Club.”

WINTER AT THE WELLNESS CENTER

I’m doing a lot of indoor walking these days when the mornings are staying below 25 F (-3.89 C) striding around a three-lane oval that overlooks three basketball courts. It’s far less interesting than my daily hike through the woods, so I began creating labels for the other people I’m passing or getting passed by. 

The Thockers – These are the people playing pickleball—THOCK—in the first basketball court—THOCK, THOCK—below me. They come in all varieties—THOCK—but their paddles sure do make a noise when they hit that pickle. THOCK!

The Scofflaw – Meanwhile, above the Thockers, the sign for the oval track clearly labels the three lanes: inside lane for walkers, middle lane for joggers, outside lane for runners. The Scofflaw doesn’t give a damn about the rules and intentionally crosses lanes to suit his own impulses.

The Enforcer – This guy is running on the outside lane and comes up behind people to startle them with his shout, “Behind you!” Or to instruct them on the rules, “Walkers on the inside lane!” He may be getting an adrenaline rush from these righteous announcements, because he seems to run faster afterwards.

The Woo Girl – The third basketball court is mostly devoted to aerobics classes. The Woo Girl turns the music up to nine and sets her head mic at eleven, shouting out instructions and adding a “WOO” in her best soprano, cutting through the malaise of the morning like a pair of scissors in the hands of a running child.

The Zigzagger – Like The Enforcer, The Zigzagger is a serious athlete who runs with purpose. Unlike The Enforcer, he doesn’t worry about the locations of others on the track, he cuts between groups and around individuals with a dancer’s grace that would be the envy of any parkour competitor. 

The Reader – With a phone held in front of her, The Reader is a multitasker who walks AND reduces the size of her TBR pile at the same time. She gets very little exercise due to her slow pace, but at least she’s not doing it while driving. (I really hope she’s not!)

The BFF’s – It’s so nice that the Wellness Center provides a place for these middle-aged ladies to walk side-by-side or three abreast and discuss the state of the world, their families, and their grandchildren… “Oh, did I show you a picture? He’s the cutest thing! Just let me find it…!” The Enforcer began his vigilante ways after encountering too many BFF’s.

The Bro Crew – This is a pack of 30-somethings are desperately trying to outrun forty. With their glory days of team sports in the rearview mirror, the fraternal order of young professionals joke and jostle around the track, zigzagging as needed, and performing the occasional straightaway sprint to show they still can.

The Wild Child – One of the Bro Crew’s little girl who enjoyed the first time around the oval but soon grew weary of the tedium of it all. She’s camped out with her collection of stuffed animals at one of the rest stops, dashing out to tag daddy when her attention meter gets low. She’s a natural actor, speaking the dialogue of all her animals with all the enthusiasm of a true creative. Sign that kid up!

Grandpa Fred – He’s doing a very good job of keeping up the pace in spite of his age and he follows the rules like any good Boomer, but he has a weakness. No, not his belt which he keeps pulling tighter around his jeans and flannel shirt, his weakness is companionship. He’ll turn on anyone coming up behind him to mention the cold weather or say how noisy it is in there. Grandpa Fred is a good guy but doesn’t seem to have good timing. Once in a while someone will slow down and talk with him before moving on. That’s all he wants.

Strider – This is me. I can’t see myself as others see me so I visualize my upright posture, lengthen my stride, and imagine I’m on an adventurous trek around this labyrinth of humanity. I use the middle lane—because I’m a middle child—walk at a pace just short of a jog, and keep my eyes on the road because “The Road goes ever on and on…” (J.R.R. Tolkien)  

TTFN 

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If you received this email because it was forwarded to you by a subscriber, welcome. You can subscribe as well by following the link on my website: ericmargerum.com. A free story awaits you there.

Margerumalia – Greg the Custodian

Eric Margerum

Newsletter – February 14, 2025

My daughter had the pleasure of working as a background actor on the set of “Only Murders in the Building,” a Hulu series starring Steve Martin, Selena Gomez, and Martin Short. She played one of the makeup artists getting Steve Martin’s character ready for a scene in his TV series, with Jane Lynch as his body double. These two stars treated my daughter as a fellow professional and creative artist, which you think would be natural, but it’s not as common as you’d expect. She lovingly described to us how each of them were kind, funny, and appreciative of the people around them.

I already loved the series, now it’s earned a top spot on my worth-watching list.

My turn to appreciate someone came this past weekend when my junior high students gave two performances of the play we’ve been rehearsing for five weeks. I could go on and on like a proud parent about their accomplishments and growth as actors but I want to take a moment here to appreciate one person who wasn’t given any applause or a credit in the program. Greg, the custodian. 

Greg is a soft-spoken man with kind eyes and a desire to be of service. He arrived just as a parent and I were liberating a table from the school cafeteria to use as a ticket and concession counter. He didn’t ask questions, just hefted that table and carried it all the way down the hall to set it in front of the library where our play would be performed. 

After that he unlocked the doors, delivered a package to the mail room that I had found in front of the door, and made sure he knew what to expect for the weekend. On Sunday he had the storage closet unlocked so we could return the dividers we borrowed from the art department, and he returned the ticket table to its spot in the cafeteria. Greg stayed until the students and I had returned all the costumes and props to the theatre storage room, and all the parents were leaving with their children. 

Just as we had begun, Greg and I were the last two in the building and I thanked him one more time with a handshake, telling him how much I appreciated his help. He smiled and nodded, locking the doors behind me before he started to vacuum. 

I remembered an email from the Superintendent of Schools about “Appreciation, Recognition, and Thanks” and I rescued it from my trash folder. I plan to fill out the form and use some of the same words I wrote above. I hope it gives Greg a bit of an uplift. I know it will for me.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

TTFN

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My middle grade novel, The Most Amazing Museum of Los Angeles, is available through The BookBaby Bookshop at https://store.bookbaby.com/book/the-most-amazing-museum-of-los-angeles

Margerumalia – Best 10-Minute Plays 2024

Eric Margerum

Newsletter – January 31, 2025

I was thrilled to open a package that arrived in the mail a couple days ago to discover my copy of The Best 10-Minute Plays 2024*. My short play “Just Book Club” was chosen for this publication among hundreds of submissions and I’m so proud to see it in book form.

Originally due to be released in October of 2024, the editor had to delay publication due to the death of her husband after a prolonged illness. I felt so bad for her I sent a letter of support and understanding. She didn’t need a bunch of selfish writers complaining about the delay. 

Life has priorities. 

On my website I offer this description of “Just Book Club” — Originally produced by the Greater Lafayette Civic Theatre in May 2023, this play shows a pivotal moment in the lives of four people who only know each other by the name of the author whose book they are carrying. Lives are at stake. Trust is hard to come by.

Intriguing, right?

I had performed in a 10-Minute Play the previous year and remember telling my wife that I could never write something that short and have it be any good. I’ve tried my hand at flash fiction, 500 words, and micro fiction, 100 words, without much success, but the challenge stayed with me until the concept hit me and I wrote this short play. 

It reminds me of Sean Connery, who played James Bond in the first six movies, when he told his wife he would never play 007 again. He still held the rights to Ian Fleming’s novel, Thunderball, Connery’s fourth film as Bond, and decided to make one more appearance as 007 with a new script based on the same plot. 

When he needed a title for that screenplay he chose his wife’s response when he told her he would be portraying James Bond one more time. Twelve years after the release of Diamonds Are Forever, Sean Connery could be seen in theatres once more as the British super spy in Never Say Never Again.

Say what you want about your limitations, complain as much as you need to, but never dismiss the possibilities of what you can accomplish. It seems that a little tickle of the neocortex can stimulate all kinds of creativity. Follow that inspiration—a word which literally means, to breathe, by the way—and get out of your own way. 

Maybe I’ll give flash fiction another try. How about you?

TTFN

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*The book contains fifty 10-Minute Plays. To order, you can go to: SmithAndKraus.com OR Amazon.com, and search for “The Best Ten-Minute Plays 2024.”

[I don’t earn money from the sale of this book, but I do hold the rights to performance of my play.]

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My middle grade novel, The Most Amazing Museum of Los Angeles, is available through The BookBaby Bookshop at https://store.bookbaby.com/book/the-most-amazing-museum-of-los-angeles

Margerumalia – A New Year’s Resolution, Part 2

Eric Margerum

Newsletter – January 10, 2025

Part 1 RECAP: 

Infected teeth seem to have played a role in the speech impediment I’ve developed over the past several years. And because they refused to leave a bad taste in my mouth [rim shot] the infection was draining into my bloodstream. The teeth were extracted, I got some new choppers, and it’s time to retrain my brain.

Part 2 RETRAINING

I’ve never worked with a speech therapist but a few of my family members did. 

When my wife was a little girl she had a lisp—that must’ve been adorable—and she was taught to say her S’s by hissing like an angry snake.

My dad was a twin and, together, the brothers had to learn how to say their R’s. It’s a myth that twins have their own language, they just share mispronunciations. Instead of choo-choo trains, they said choo-choo twains—again, adorable.

Dad would tell a story of he and his brother telling the speech therapist about their dog, Wags.

“Rags,” she corrected them. “Your dog’s name is Rrrags.” 

“No, his name is Wags,” they corrected her. “Because he likes to wag his tail!” 

So I’ve begun working on re-training myself. I have an MFA in Theatre and have taught enunciation as a Theatre Professor, so I decided to use my knowledge and apply it to a collection of poems by Robert Frost. The book was an opening night gift from a very special stage manager and it challenges me as I read the poetry aloud. 

I sometimes read a stanza out loud five or six times to conquer the tripping points or the mushy places my mouth wants to go. 

Try saying “more loitering” out loud. Go ahead. I’ll wait…

If you’re like me, you just said “more lortering.”

The “or” of the first word sits in the middle of your mouth with a cupped tongue, while the “oi” of the second word fits further back in your mouth with a flatter tongue and more open passage. Your tongue needs to do a bit of a dance to get from point OR to point OI. Subtle but significant dance steps.

You can find those particular words in the fourth stanza of Frost’s “The Trial By Existence.” 

My goal is to tackle a poem or stanza every day and say it repeatedly until it flows easily—“trippingly on the tongue” as Hamlet put it—and not too emphatically. 

My book sells for $13.99 and I don’t want to sound like I’m tearing off a chunk of raw meat while saying ninety nine. In fact, most of us tend to soften the T into a D and say nine-dee-nine. 

A couple other phrases I’ve stumbled over lately include “toxic masculinity” and “I was being facetious.” I’ll let you try to work out the mechanics on your own. 

You can also repeat “The Most Amazing Museum of Los Angeles” over and over again. Preferably in a bookstore. Just saying. 

TTFN 

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If you received this email because it was forwarded to you by a subscriber, welcome. You can subscribe as well by following the link on my website: ericmargerum.com. A free story awaits you there.

Margerumalia – A New Year’s Resolution, Part 1

Eric Margerum

Newsletter – January 3, 2025

As I said last week, I don’t usually make resolutions. But this year I have a specific goal: retraining myself to speak. 

Me—actor, singer, director, teacher, public speaker—with a speech impediment? What gives?

Over the past few years I’ve noticed that my ability to say certain phrases has left me tongue-tied, and it got worse in 2024. Of course, this escalated during the period when I was scheduling multiple book signings, but I soldiered on through, and people patiently waited for me as I corrected my words. Bless them. But I wasn’t satisfied. 

I got new insight into how it feels to have a disability. Suddenly I required people’s tolerance as I saw weariness creep across their faces, maybe they even had the urge to complete my sentences for me. I’ve been told by several people that they didn’t notice, so it could have been my projection. My own impatience with myself, however, made me want to avoid lengthy conversations, and I became a little bit reclusive. I also found myself tiring more easily while directing plays.

I’d had enough. 

Over the summer, my wife and I made an appointment with a Doctor of Functional Medicine, each for different reasons. We had blood drawn at a lab where it was analyzed according to the instructions of the doctor. She then reviewed the entire blood panel with each of us, identifying levels of everything from glucose to magnesium, uric acid, iron, and much more. She also drew comparisons between certain items and discussed the implications of their levels.

Near the end of my appointment she said that certain indicators told her I was fighting off an infection. Nonsense, I thought, I never get sick and my only bout with COVID was over a year earlier. I had no idea what kind of infection she might be referring to. She prescribed a few different supplements to help my body fight off this unknown infection.

Two or three weeks into taking those supplements I had a revelation. My tooth! 

Remember a few weeks ago I described my tooth extraction experience in the dentist’s office? (November 29, 2024 – Christmas Lights and Dental Blights) My previous dentist had been “watching” that tooth for about two years, poking around at the pustule in my gums. That was the infection! And because the pustule hadn’t opened and leaked into my mouth, that meant I had a constant flow of infection going into my bloodstream. 

There had also been a previous tooth on the bottom row that we had “watched” for a couple of years before that. It had the same kind of pustule that was also draining into my bloodstream for a couple of years before it started hurting and had to be extracted.

These infections were all near my tools for articulation, and close to my brain, the control center for speaking. 

I admit to being complicit in the decision to “watch” each tooth. Shall we put off for tomorrow what I don’t want to experience today? Sure, let’s do that!

When I added up the timeline of those two teeth, one after the other, it matched the time period in which my speech had started to change.

I know the expression that correlation is not causation, but with a lack of any other known infection in my body it makes for pretty strong circumstantial evidence. (Yes, I do watch The Lincoln Lawyer AND read the books, why do you ask?)

I have another blood draw in a couple of days followed by another analysis and consultation. I have high hopes for closure on this issue. 

I’d estimate that my speech is about 50% better than it was a few months ago, but that’s not good enough for me. Next week I’ll tell you about my personal speech therapy using poetry.

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PSA: Part of the reason I’ve described this situation in detail is to prompt you or your loved ones to seek medical treatment when you need it. A former student of mine just posted a similar PSA about his recent surgery for skin cancer. Early detection and treatment is so much less expensive than what may develop. Please take care of yourselves.

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My middle grade novel, The Most Amazing Museum of Los Angeles is available through The BookBaby Bookshop at https://store.bookbaby.com/book/the-most-amazing-museum-of-los-angeles

Margerumalia – Standing on the Shoulders of Suffragists 

Eric Margerum

Newsletter – December 27, 2024

Last week I mentioned going to see Suffs on Broadway as our early Christmas present to the whole family. Years ago, my sister-in-law had suggested that experiences were great gifts for the holidays because of the special memories they created. She was so right! 

The title of the musical comes from the suffragists—not suffragettes, which has a diminutive suffix meaning “lesser.”  These women fought long and hard for women’s right to vote, enduring everything from simple political posturing to outright torture in the form of forced feeding. These heroes include familiar names, like Carrie Chapman Catt and Ida B. Wells, as well as many other women that deserve equal recognition. They get that in this musical.

Suffs won Tony Awards this year for “Best Book of a Musical” and “Best Original Score” and, like Hamilton, it was steeped in historical accuracy, an epic scope, and dynamic characters. It closes on Broadway at the beginning of January to prepare for the national tour. I urge you to see it when it arrives in your neck of the woods. Learn more about it at suffsmusical.com. (National tour not yet posted.)

So what about that campaign button at the top of the newsletter? That was from my mom’s first run for mayor and was given to me recently by someone who’d worked on her early campaigns. Mayor Margerum was inaugurated in January of 1980 and would go on to serve six terms before retiring in 2004. 

It’s incredible to think that my mother was born only ten years after women were granted the right to vote in the US. She earned her Master’s Degree in Political Science in 1979 and became the first woman mayor of my home town within a year. Today the City Hall is named after her. I wish she could have seen Suffs, I think it would have meant a lot to her. 

My mother also donned the costume of Helen Gouger, a local suffragist and member of the temperance movement who sued the county for denying her the right to vote. My mother would visit schools in character and talk to the students about the 19th Amendment and women’s suffrage. 

My daughter later portrayed her grandmother in a short one woman play she created in grad school. My mother would have liked to see that, too.

It’s just a few days until New Years Eve and I usually don’t bother with resolutions, but this time I have a very specific goal—retraining myself to speak. I’ll tell you about it next week. 

TTFN

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