How Do You Get to Philadelphia? Practice!

When people ask Steve and I how we ended up in Philadelphia, Steve’s stock reply is: “We ran out of gas here.” Which sounds, on reflection, like we just settled for Philly, when the reality is a bit different. We may not have explicitly chosen the City of Brotherly Love, but it chose us.

You have to understand, as a native New Yorker I had never been to Philadelphia. It is easy to bypass the region entirely en route to the Jersey shore, which for years was my solitary “southern” destination. Oh, I had heard about the Liberty Bell and Ben Franklin in history class, but that was about the size of it. And after our family began our years of nomadic wandering (read: wherever the sales jobs were for my dad), we just seemed to move farther and farther away from the Land of the Cheesesteak.

But suddenly it all changed. In early 1979, we got a (to us) fabulous theatre gig—touring the Northeast doing children’s theatre in schools. We’d been hired after unified auditions in Atlanta, where directors from all over came to scout talent. I had scored well with a comedy piece I wrote (the premise? I was accepting an award for my fictitious one woman show, “Calvin Coolidge Tonight!”) Our new boss, a Philadelphia based company called Antrim Bureau, promised us the oh-so-tempting carrot of $15 per performance, out of which would come all our travel expenses. Yippee!!

Tin Man and Dorothy! Why do we look exactly the same?

And so for the next 18 months we toured schools in six states, armed with only a trunk of props and costumes, and foolish optimism. We premiered in frigid Ticonderoga, NY in late January and it was downhill from there…car troubles, nightmare motels, desperate searches for AM coffee on the road. By May of 1980 we had, truly, had it.

We happened to be performing in the Philly suburbs, and one weekend we explored the city that I had always heard painted only in the most negative colors. Our cruise down Kelly Drive was a revelation. It was gorgeous, like a European boulevard! Schuylkill River scullers! Majestic bridges! Maybe we could settle down here! Temporarily, of course. We would use Philly as a jumping off place for regular train trips into Manhattan, where Broadway fame was thisclose.

That was 36 years ago. Our forays into NYC were few and unsuccessful. We decided to birth our own children’s theatre company, and gradually built it into a living (enough to support five children). Now, thanks 100% to my wonderful husband (I jumped ship years ago) Family Stages remains a real player on the Philadelphia theatre scene, with many of our “alums” going on to significant careers. 

Proud of you Dave! Do you remember touring with me in "Columbus Day Sail" circa  1992??

There are days when I still wake up and wonder what the heck I am doing here. But I am a believer in God, and fate, and think both of those were in play way back in spring of 1980, when a young couple took a detour that changed the course of (their) history.

PS Thanks for the idea for today’s post, Ruth Weisberg!

Of Sesame Street and Peyton Place

Can I tell you how to get to Sesame Street? Oh, you bet I can. I am more familiar with Oscar, Elmo and Big Bird’s turf than my own town. Mr. Rogers? But of course. The sweater and sneaks, the soft, soothing voice, the Neighborhood of Make Believe…all staples of my kids’ childhood. My brood was, thank heavens, mostly reared in the pre-Barney the Totally Obnoxious Dinosaur era. But I certainly watched more than my fair share of children’s television, some shows of much better quality than others. 

We Seyfrieds were a strictly PBS family—except for Saturday mornings, when all bets were off. Saturday mornings I called my mom, who was still living in Atlanta, because—I’m dating myself here—the telephone rates were down. The only way I could get an uninterrupted hour to gab was to let the gang watch Saturday morning cartoons, which they anticipated as avidly as gamblers on their way to Vegas. The cartoons had zero merit, intellectually, but once a week I thought they were fine…kind of like the leftover bags of Mounds bars I binge-ate the day after Halloween every year and no other time.

The Cunningham girls, ready to watch "The Edge of Night"

When I was little, we had fewer programming choices for sure. There was Captain Kangaroo. Romper Room. The Soupy Sales Show, which even then I knew was pretty bizarre. I was, as a mere tot, allowed to be in the room while Mom watched her regular boatload of soaps and talk shows. While lots of the content went over my head, I did manage to get a better sex education from As the World Turns and Peyton Place than anything my parents attempted to convey. By the way, Joanie’s idea of teaching us about the birds and bees was purchasing an LP (featuring a Catholic priest giving us what was not anywhere near the lowdown), and then leaving the room after putting it on the record player.

As a grandma I am rapidly getting up to speed on television for little ones, 2016 version. Curious George is delightful. Good old Sesame Street abides. Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood is a so-so updating of Fred Rogers’ show, so gentle as to be snooze-inducing. One of Aiden’s favorites, Super Why, is actually teaching him early reading skills. For a time, we were all about Thomas the Tank Engine, but I found the show annoying and at times incomprehensible (why did all the trains have different names and personalities, yet to me looked exactly alike?)—glad we seem to have cooled off on that one. 

The old model!

With cable and the internet, there are zillions more home entertainment choices ahead for my grandchildren. So far Sheridan and Ya-Jhu are doing a super job of balancing TV with more outdoor activities, playing with blocks and Playdoh, drawing, etc. and I feel confident they will raise very well-rounded kids. I’m not worried a bit.

After all, I watched a ton of junk back in the day, and I turned out just fine! Didn’t I? Didn’t I?

Confessions of a Roller Coaster Cook

Ask me what I have planned for dinner tomorrow night when PJ and his girlfriend are here. Go on!

OK I’ll tell you. Lamb chops with crushed pistachios and chaat masala, saffron couscous, cucumber raita and homemade peppermint patties for dessert. Ta-da!

My cooking game at home is at the highest level it’s been for a while. I swear, it’s like Top Chef around here, except that none of us have to pack our knives and leave! Sher and Yaj are kitchen wizards, and Evan is an extraordinary cook and bread maker. We love when Patrick comes over, because he is now cooking professionally. We take turns preparing meals, which is both fun and dangerously fattening.

Dinner prep with Chef Patrick

When Steve and I first married. I had (and used) a pasta maker. Every glass of orange juice was fresh-squeezed; coffee always freshly ground.  And it continued that way for seven years, until….

The children were born. As toddlers my kids were typical desultory, picky eaters. So for many years, this was my meal rotation:

Fish sticks and mac and cheese

The easiest ziti recipe I could find

Meatloaf (ditto)

Shake and Bake chicken

And my personal favorite: "pick your favorite cereal night" (a genius idea of my friend Nancy's…marketed correctly, my gang thought it a BIG treat to eat frosted flakes for dinner)

favorite cereal night!

I comforted myself by saying it was just a phase of life and it would pass. And I did fuss more for special occasions. But the basics were, well, pretty darned basic.

Years later, when the nest began emptying, I had more time to think about what we ate. Therefore, while we as a family had eaten supper together every night, the contents of that supper evolved dramatically between Sheridan’s heyday and Julie’s. For the first time in years, I blew the dust off my Cuisinart and my springform pan. Grocery shopping became much less painful than it had been back when I had one in a front carrier, one in the cart seat and one or two holding my hand as I navigated the aisles of Acme. At the height of it all, when my mom was living with us as well, I filled two shopping carts at a time. Now I am down to a much more manageable one cart, and I am even organized enough to bring my own shopping bags to the store!

We again have babies in the house, but I’m never going back to ho-hum edibles. Aiden at two has a sophisticated palate and enjoys even spicy foods. I have no reason to think Peter won’t follow suit. I am hoping that delicious and civilized meals will continue to be the norm around here. 

Parenthood is a roller coaster, with dips and soars and, always, times you feel like screaming. But it has been a joy to hang on for the wild ride. And while I may have bid farewell to Mrs. Paul’s forever, the secret ingredient of our dinners—love—remains the same.