Ordinarily July is a quiet month at the McGonigle household. We that is, the loverly wife Helen, aka the Hell Cat, and myself, stick mostly ta da gardenin, and dat is mostly da weeding. We try ta protect ourselves from da sun, but it's been such a sunny summer dat we got all bronzed up as dey say in da TV comercials. We try ta use da sunblock with the PTB rating of 24, but since we buy it at Doug's Dollar Dump, we can't say how fresh and effective da stuff is. We decided ta take a night off fer some cultural entertainment. It was kinda spur a da momentum, so we took Dugger over ta Bob Lewandowski's and headed fer da Masonic Temple in our gardening duds. brown leather gardening boots, dirty, overalls and a flannel shirt, very dirty; brown felt hats, much battered and smashed and a pair of old golf umbrellies in case it rained. We parked in da parkin lot by da Guild and climbed up da hill ta da Cultural Center. We attracted a lotta atenshun at da theatre, specially when we went ta da ticket window ta pick up the tickets fer da ballet. Da ticket taker said dat we should go downa St. Francis Kitchen if we wanned some food, and I showed him da money and said we wanned some tickets fer da ballet. We finally talked him inta givin us da tickets and we sat down at da back a da theatre. It was da new York City Ballet fer der one and only appearnce in Scranton dis year. It reminded me of an old war story like da Batttle a da Bulge, but it was called Shambards, is a dense ballet that is hard to absorb in one sitting on one's butt. It stays with you long after you've left the theater, much longer dan a Chinese meal, anyways. It has no plot but packs an emotional wallop through inventive and powerful choreography that juxtaposes highly charged images of strife, joy, passion, love and death. I'm just quoting the program here, cause I had no idea what da blam tin was about. The title Shambards comes from Edwin Muir's poem Scotland 1941, in which the eminent Scottish poet names Burns and Scott, sham bards of a sham nation,and Scottish composer James MacMillan's dissonant score with Highland folk tunes drives the ballet's propulsive pace. I tink I shudda been insulted cause I got some Scottish poet blood in me someplace.

As the curtain goes up, two lines of dancers in earth-tone leotards [dey look almost neked ta me.] are frozen in dis zigzag design with der arms up. It's supposed ta symbolice some tin, but I give up. Da women lie on the floor spoke-fashion sorta like da old June Taylor dancers and the men step between them in some kinda weird sword dance. According ta da program da brilliant centerpiece of Shambards is the passionately wrought tug-of-war pas de deux in which Jock Soto and Miranda Weese, in deep red tattered tulle, relentlessly torment each other. Now den dey was gettin too close ta home here. Den der was some Scottish dancing day was quite fast.

Den we went down ta da Smith Family Restaurant fer some after da ballet food. Nobody seemed ta mind da way we were dressed der and nobody was dancin with leotards der.

73's from Pops