2 THE REGULAR JOE

Letter from the EditorIn the Joe

2. Letter from the Editor 3. Walk on the Wild Side 4. Del Castillo No Longer Gives You Whiplash

5. Amy’s Ice Creams - Her Story 6. From Start to Finish: Running the Marathons 8.&9. Get It Straight from the Farm 10. Old, Acoustic, Garage Sale Guitars 11. The Play’s the Thing ... with Paradox Players 12. Mind the Splinters 12. Breathing for Runners

13. The Anniversary of my Death

14. Joe’s Mug Shots 15. Joke, Wordsearch

Owners of The Regular Joe, Aus-tin, LLCKit Christie Sally Hanan

Editor in ChiefSally Hanan

Contributing Photographers Gerry Hanan Christina Harding

Design & LayoutGerry Hanan Zack Hanan

ContributorsRose Di Grazia Miles O’Neal Sally Hanan Amanda Ivarra Erin Young Kit Christie Gary Payne Paul Carroza Jay Kerner

Send us your comments, suggestions, etc. If you’d like to write for us, please email us your idea/query before you write the article.If you are interested in advertisingwith us, we’ll be happy to answer any questions you may have.

www.regularjoeaustin.comregjoeaustin@gmail.com|554-9905

THE REGULAR JOE 12407 N. Mopac Expy.,Ste. 250-388, Austin, TX 78758

The cover photo is of Carla Jenkins, founder of Texas Farmers’ Market, and Brenton Johnson, owner of Johnson’s Backyard Garden. The photo was taken at Mueller Park Farmers’ Market by Gerry Hanan of Hananexposures.com.

Dear readers, I’m happy to say that at least one thing I have wanted to do for years is in the making — I’ve been declutter-ing my garage. The thought of the whole job was overwhelming. And that’s when my friend stepped in. She knew how long I’d been talking about it, and she was ready to help. Together, in about two days, we filled bins with wood and trash and things the rats had chewed through (that really helped me when it came to letting things go). I packed up most of the things hubby had “rescued” from other people’s curbs, wiped other stuff off shelves and the floor, and whisked it all off to the recycling center and Salvation Army. There’s one corner of stuff left to go through, and it’s not in my realm — everything in it belongs to the hubster, and he needs to make those decisions himself.

That garage was a constant re-minder of everything I had on my long-finger list — I’ll do it some day. Well, turns out some day can be taken care of in one day (or two), and the emotional and physical results are tremendous. So that’s what I leave you all with. Everything you know you need to do can be done in a shorter amount of time than you think, and the help of a friend can cut that in half. (Yeah, you might have to bribe her/him, but it’s worth it.) Even better, be that friend, and let’s make this world a little less overwhelming and more supported all around. Cheers! Sally

3THE REGULAR JOE

Walk on the Wild Side

By Rose Di Grazia

There’s a story that is near and dear to my heart that involves Lady Bird Johnson, my late grandmother and a walk on the wild side of wildflowers. My aunt is married to a man that was appointed Ambassador of Belgium by the former senior President Bush, so at one time my grandparents, aunt and uncle were invited to the LBJ ranch, where my grandmother spent time with Lady Bird Johnson. Every time I think of the Wildflower Center, I think of my deceased grandmother and the story of how they all flew down on a

private jet to Texas to meet Lady Bird. If you’re like me and didn’t get to meet her but would have liked to, you can take a walk on the wild side and see the Wildflower Center. The gar-dens are open almost every day to the general public to showcase the beauty of their vast samplings of flowers and plants. The gardens were designed to teach, inspire and promote the use of native plants, and their presence helps preserve the biological richness of North America. The gardens offer 279 acres of over 650 species of flowers, with a focus

on central Texas. They each have a pertinent theme, such as the Court-yard, the Hill Country Stream and the Woodland Garden. The center is also known for landscape restoration, plant conservation, sustainable sites, education and native plant informa-tion. Ongoing classes teach gardeners of all skill levels how to maintain and design native plant gardens. The architecture of the center’s buildings reflects that of the Spanish Missions, while the limestone shows the craftsmanship of the early Ger-man settlers. The center is also known for its water harvesting — it has huge cisterns and ponds that collect water for recirculation. The center is a wonderful place to take a stroll or to set up a canvas, and a fantastic place for school fieldtrips. My first stop is always the gift shop, sop I can peruse all the wildflower gifts such as shirts, vases, seeds, books and cards. You can’t go to the center and not buy at least a shirt. While there are many in-store sales, the most popular is an outdoor plant sale which is held twice a year. This year’s will be held on April 13-14 and, as always, the first in line get the best plants. After meandering through the various gardens, stop in the cafe for a delicious sandwich and dessert. The cafe looks out onto the gardens, and the food is ridiculously good. I was so

pleasantly surprised at the fine cuisine the first time I visited, that I take a drive out there just to eat some days. So why not take a walk on the wild side of wildflowers?

For more information about this lovely place, go to wildflower.org.

Once Below A Time Once Below A Time A concert of timeless poems in choral settingA concert of timeless poems in choral settingA concert of timeless poems in choral settingsss

Texas Choral ConsortTexas Choral ConsortTexas Choral Consort

Saturday February 16 Saturday February 16 7:30pm 7:30pm

7050 Village Center Drive (off Far West) Northwest Hills United Methodist Church

www.txconsort.org

By Whitacre, Corigliano, Vaughan Williams, and others

I am only one, but still I am one.

I cannot do everything, but still I can do something;

and because I cannot do every-thing I will not refuse to do the

something that I can do. ~Edward Everett Hale

Fall asters outside the full-service café

4 THE REGULAR JOE

Del Castillo No Longer Gives You WhiplashBy Miles O’Neal When I first saw Mickey Rourke’s character (Ivan Vanko, aka Whiplash) in Iron Man 2, I knew he reminded me of someone. I later realized that someone was Alex Ruiz, front man for Del Castillo. Alex, however, has better teeth and tends to exhibit a more posi-tive role model, eschewing (so far) the use of high voltage to kill, maim and destroy. Del Castillo’s music, on the other hand, has all the energy you could ask for. Alas, Alex and the band parted ways this past October (apparently on good terms), so the Whiplash visual no longer applies. On the other hand, some of their music may have you dancing hard enough to get whiplash. This is a very danceable band — as depicted in their very entertaining fan-tasy video “Anybody Wanna.” Until they choose a regular replacement, various friends and other guests will handle lead vocals. Given the band’s talent and connections, I’m not wor-ried, but I will miss Whiplash. Del Castillo dropped their first album onto the Austin music scene in 2001, fusing Latino music with rock, blues and world music. While play-ing separately in blues and harder rock bands, brothers Mark and Rick Del Castillo had found their families

couldn’t relate to their music. They decided to put together something with Latino roots to bridge the gap. Their first album was well received and they’ve only gotten better. With more bands like this, Austin might maintain its reputation as Live Music Capital of the World. While neither Mark nor Rick was trained in flamenco, they might as well have been. Beautiful Latino melodies and flamenco sounds mix with Carib-bean, blues, rock and occasional hints of metal. Percussion figures heavily into the mix as well. Think of a cross between early Santana and Monte Montgomery. That’s not Del Castillo, but it’s in the ballpark. Best of all, they play with the soul Santana has largely been lacking for years. Whether headlining clubs or opening for acts such as Styx and Los Lonely Boys, this band owns the stage. They have wowed a wide range of big names, from Willie Nelson (who rerecorded “I Never Cared for You” with them and calls it his

favorite version) to Grace Slick. In addition to Willie, they have recorded or played with Austin favorites such as Monte Montgomery and Malford Milligan, and San Angelo heroes Los Lonely Boys. They add their flavor to live covers of intense classics such as the Beatles “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” without losing the poignancy of the originals. The band has been fairly involved in film: - They showcased on the soundtrack of Robert Rodriguez’s Once Upon a Time in Mexico; - Quentin Tarantino worked their version of “Malagueña Salerosa” into Kill Bill, Vol. 2 (performed by Chignon — Robert Rodriquez and members of Del Castillo); - they are involved in two upcoming indie film projects — scripting, star-ring and directing as well as writing and playing for the soundtracks. While passionate about social prob-lems such as immigration and border issues, the band members don’t tend to

club you over the head like some ce-lebrities. They prefer to speak primar-ily through their art while remaining distinctly non-preachy in interviews. Mark and Rick, along with bassist Albert Besteiro, have deep roots in the Rio Grande Valley (specifically Brownsville). This shows not only in the bands’ style and songs, but in the lyrics. All band members are bilin-gual; some songs are in English and some are in Spanish. They choose the right language for the song (or perhaps the song chooses for them). Whether you understand the words, the soul of the song always comes through. Even when I don’t get it, I get it. That’s the way music should be. You can sample their music via iTunes links on their website (del-castillomusic.com) and YouTube. On the latter, I highly recommend the aforementioned “Anybody Wanna,” “I Never Met a Woman” (live with Los Lonely Boys) and “Chingon - Malagueña Salerosa” live at the Kill Bill, Vol. 2 premier. By all accounts, they are really nice guys. If you go see them, try to hang out afterward. You can catch them at Antone’s Nightclub, Saturday, Feb. 2. Doors open at 8PM. Alternatively, keep checking their website for future gigs.

5THE REGULAR JOE

The Amy’s Ice Creams Story

As told to The Regular Joe By Amy Everyone has an ice cream memory, and ice cream is always referenced in movies. Even in the most recent movie I watched — Crazy Stupid Love — the main character says, “Let’s go get ice cream.” It’s a univer-sally happy thing. I wasn’t particularly a lover of food growing up, and by college, my broth-er told me I at least had to try new food, so he took me to the ice cream store. That visit, for me, was not just about ice cream; it was an experience. I took a job there, in Ann Arbor, and enjoyed the social environment, the workers, the energy in the store and the sense of community. The owner was a guy named Steve — a brilliant

high school dropout. There were many of them in Ann Arbor at the time, and when mixed with the Boston townies, it created a hysterical culture, being a liberal city in the middle of a conser-vative state. I left medical school and followed my instincts. I opened ice cream stores for Steve in Manhattan and Florida, but then he sold the business. I stayed on, but it imploded within the year. I knew it would happen from the get-go — the buyers didn’t care about the sense of community we had built up and focused more on the dollar. When I was younger I discovered that businesses are not evil; they bring positive changes to society. My grandmother worked for George East-man, a man who helped change her town from an industrial one to a blue collar one, and he introduced art to the common people. His business was the vehicle for that. I decided to start my own ice cream store based on Steve’s principles and my appreciation for business, and at the age of 23 I moved to Austin, raised $100,000 and set up shop on Gua-dalupe, alongside some very helpful entrepreneurs like Judy Mile of Texas French Bread and Mike Young of Chuy’s. We did well in that first store, even though it took a while to break even. We opened our second store at the Arboretum a year later. I trusted

my intuition on that location; it had a story in its development. For the next 15 years we played financial tetris, borrowing from our moms and using our shareholders as guarantors. We even opened in Dal-las and did well for three years until the savings and loan crash, when the community started to change and we pulled back. Going public, building up our gross revenues and traveling on the fast track are not my values. Once we’d

paid off our debt, I had to stop and ask myself what I really wanted to contribute to my communities, what I wanted my organization to do. We’ve facilitated some incred-ible moments over the years. We’ve catered for weddings, even funerals. We’ve culled the entrepreneurial skills of our employees and helped them understand how personal finance man-agement ultimately gives freedom. Taxes account for 40 percent of our expenses, so it’s very important to us to present classes that help employees understand the realities of financing a business. (Those classes are open to the public too, free of charge.) We make the world of business meaning-ful, engaging, helpful, and we give them the confidence and experience and customer service training to help them succeed. Then we share their successes. We have a small seed fund that has helped some past employees

start their own businesses in the city, like Ozone Bikes, Little City Coffee, Club DeVille. The people we tend to hire are those who naturally fulfill our mission — they love to make people’s day; they don’t judge by appearances. Hu-mility is also huge. Everyone needs a place to belong, a place to feel valued. Our customers love our employees for that, and vice versa. These days I’m all over the place. I don’t scoop ice cream anymore,

because the employees are better at it than I am! I’m the idea person, the stamp, the coach; I put strengths to work. I love finding and setting up entrepreneurs to create spin-off busi-nesses, to use the capabilities within others, and make contributions toward that. On average we’ve opened a store every year over the last 28 years, but we’ve closed 15 of those — we’ve had successes and failures. We’re planning on opening more stores in Austin and its suburbs, in places where there are communities, but we need to find the right ones. The synergy of a location is the most critical when measuring future success. Our mission is to make our peo-ple’s day, and that includes everyone — stakeholders, suppliers, customers, employees — everyone is considered. And that’s what we do.

Amy’s first ice cream store on Guadalupe

6 THE REGULAR JOE

From Start to Finish: Running the Marathon

By Amanda Ivarra

Matt Cotcher won’t see the start-ing line until Sunday, February 17, but in my eyes, he crossed the start-ing line when he registered for the LIVESTRONG Austin Marathon and Half Marathon. The moment he dedi-cated himself to running a marathon was the moment he started his journey. No more contemplating the advice of medical professionals or questioning his ability of whether or not he could do it. The only way to find out if he could was to do it. “Registering for the marathon was quite a mental hurdle,” says Cotcher. “I still have a lot of physical deficits from brain surgery, so I had plenty of doctors giving me their opinions on my ability to run 26.2 miles! I got to the point that I was overthinking the decision; I knew I wanted to try it, so I mentally committed to it. The decision was very liberating in that it provided me with a new goal to focus on.” Since undergoing a brain tumor diagnosis and major brain surgery in 2007, many of Cotcher’s goals have been centered around his physical abilities — from breathing on his own to learning how to walk again. As he got stronger and more coordinated, he pushed himself further. Eventually, he went from therapist supervised jogs to completing 5Ks and two half mara-thons. Cotcher says, “At this point, I run for other patients in the hospital strug-

gling with the same challenges that I did. I also run for selfish reasons … in other words, I run because I can!” Race organizers, Conley Sports and LIVESTRONG, chose Cotcher to be one of this year’s six ambassa-dors for the event. As an ambassador, Cotcher represents the vision of the LIVESTRONG Austin Marathon and Half Marathon — that running can be used as a tool to help others reach their goals. He shares his life and training stories through weekly blog posts, hoping to inspire and empower fellow athletes through the training process: hawktober.com. He was also invited to join the Luke’s Locker running team and was given a running coach to assist him in his marathon efforts. “The biggest surprise for me has been how much structure goes into training for the race,” says Cotcher. “Training in-volves so much more than getting out the door and going for as long of a run as you can! My coach has me running specific distances at specific paces — each run or week is different from the previous one. And that doesn’t even consider how involved the recovery process is!” In a few weeks, Cotcher and thou-

sands of other athletes will compete in the marathon, which happens to be the 18th largest marathon in the United States. Choosing to participate was an easy decision for Cotcher. He received his degree from the University of Texas and has always had “romantic feelings” for Austin, so running miles and miles through her most scenic and historic areas is just one more chance to surrender his heart to the city he loves so much. The marathon and half marathon routes are USATF certified courses and run through Austin’s most notable areas, including Lady Bird Johnson

Lake, Allandale, Hyde Park, Congress Avenue, the University of Texas cam-pus and the State Capitol complex. In his first post, Cotcher said he was intimidated about running a mara-thon. After several months of training, I was curious to know if he was any less apprehensive. He replied, “When I look at a map and realize that I’ll run from Cedar Park to the UT Tower … and I’ll still have a 10K left after I get there, that’s definitely still formidable!” However, the intimidation isn’t keeping Cotcher from this marathon. “You can’t live in fear of what might happen, but you can take advantage of any and every opportunity as if it might be your last one,” says Cotcher. A run of 26.2 consecutive miles is all that separates Cotcher from the finish line now. When he crosses the finish line, he will have accomplished his goal … and he will have perse-vered, overcoming all the physical and mental challenges of something he was so daunted by. Spectators are one of the most valuable aspects of the LIVESTRONG Austin Marathon and Half Marathon. Thousands will be standing along the course, cheer-ing for family, friends, neighbors and guests of the city. For a list of some of the best cheering points, please visit youraustinmarathon.com.

Photo by Christina Harding

Matt Cotcher

7THE REGULAR JOE

8 THE REGULAR JOE

Get It Straight

An Austin Origin

al

since 1976

www.conanspizza.com

North - 459-3221Central - 478-5712South - 441-6754

By Erin Young I was hardly four feet tall and maybe nine years old. I looked up to see bright rays of sunlight cascading down through the encroaching leaves of tangled cherry tomato bushes. Gin-gerly picking the ripened fruit from its branches, I would crawl through the rows from plant to plant until my five gallon bucket was full, and until I had, of course, eaten my share as well. At the end of the row, crawling from underneath the foliage, I would sit satisfied on the soil with a happy belly and proud spirit for the part I played on my family’s garden. Years later, far removed from the towering greenery, I find walking the rows of the produce department at the grocery store does not nearly provide the same satisfaction. As a child, my roles in cultivating the garden of my old homestead excited an apprecia-tion for what we grew. The fruit was sweeter. Little did I realize then that I would grow to foster such a fond appreciation for that which now seems like a distant memory. Be it time, space or resources, I have never had very much success since in growing my own garden, but I prefer to feed my family with wholesome and pref-erably homegrown produce. If you aren’t already familiar with the term “locavore movement,” it defines the effort we are beginning to see in people that strive to eat food that has been grown or processed within 100 miles of their homes. I love

the philosophy behind this trend. Not only does it inspire a more healthy minded life-style, but also supports the local farmers and specialty food vendors in the com-munity. Happily, I was made aware of the Cedar Park and Mueller Food Markets in the Austin area. Founded by Carla Jenkins, the Texas Farmers’ Markets have exploded in popularity. I was fortunate enough to have the opportunity to speak with Ms. Jenkins about her markets and what sets them apart from the rest. With a back-ground in marketing, Ms. Jenkins knows how to move people to explore new and remote locations. With the help of the city of Cedar Park, the original market site was established and the first market day was an unbelievable success, with 20 vendors and

casabrasilcoffees.com

soydelites.com sweetishhill.com

9THE REGULAR JOE

3,000 attendees. The Cedar Park market is conveniently located in the parking lot of Lakeline Mall, making it a very accessible location. In its third year, Ms. Jenkins re-ports that it has become highly successful and is a phenomenal market. New to learning the farming trade, it was a welcome change, as she found it was exciting to see so many others in-trigued and learning about the lifestyle. Questions like “Where are the bananas?” would provoke small chuckles, as a regular to farmers’ markets is aware that the produce available is only that which is grown within the area; bananas, un-fortunately, are not indigenous within a 100 mile radius. Her second market, the Mueller Farmers’ Market, is located in the historical Browning Hangar off Mueller Boulevard in Austin. On my first visit, I couldn’t help but notice that these were no regular farmers’ markets. They were events that reminded me of a pony-sized, food oriented Pecan

Street Festival. In addition to the num-ber of farmers’ booths, there were also local ranchers with fresh meats and specialty food vendors! So basically, my ordinary and often nerve-racking trips to the grocery store were all for naught! I could come here and bring

my kids (even my dog!) and actually have fun while buying my produce and poultry and seafood fresh from the Gulf. Not to mention the range of specialty food vendors where I could purchase things like locally processed cheeses and wines. Did I mention there’s live music? With all of this, I was thinking it couldn’t be beat; but still, I found it did only get better. For a mom of three kids, it is always a treat to find any-thing free and entertaining, yet edu-cational, happening locally. Being as ecologically minded as they are food oriented, the Texas Farmers’ Markets also host kids’ programs that range from cooking demonstrations to crafts from recyclables, and even wildlife

shows. With a guest chef showing your kids new and fun recipes, don’t be surprised if you find one walking away with a sprout of broccoli in his hands as if it were a lollipop. You might even find your kid’s picture

on the market’s website or Facebook page as the next Market Sprout, or your family pet showcased as the next Market Mutt. All are welcome. Supporting the local farmers, ranchers and food specialists in the area is only the beginning. As move-ments go, Ms. Jenkins takes it even one step further. Only Texas made products are allowed to be sold within the market, including merchandise. There are few exceptions to the rule, and when there are, they are marked and made transparent to the public. To meet modern technological expectations with an age-old system of trade, and to get informed and stay up-to-date with current happenings at your local food market, check out texasfarmersmarket.org. It’s not al-ways about having to go back in time, but about finding that happy balance between an old way and a new way in life, in food … in fun. Attending your local food market is, in my opinion, one of the best ways to be an active locavore. You get to meet the farmers firsthand and ask them direct questions about what (if any) pesticides were used, and what their sustainable gardening practices are. You get to talk one-on-one with them and sometimes meet their fami-lies. You get a feel for who they really are and what they really do — for the love and care that has been put into their harvests. In that light, I get the same sense of pride and satisfaction in knowing I am supporting my local farmers and my community just as I had experienced playing a part in my own family’s garden as a child.

poochietrends.com

EIEIOTX.com

babyzachs.com jbgorganic.com facebook.com/drinkdailygreens Watson Farms Of Fredericksburg

from the Farm

10 THE REGULAR JOE

Old, Acoustic, Garage Sale GuitarsBy Kit Christie Publisher There’s an old acoustic guitar in a basement in Kansas City. My neph-ew’s noodling with it, but it’s passed through quite a few hands over the years. I picked it up at a garage sale at 13, thinking I’d become the next Nancy Wilson of Heart; but while my inner barracuda listened to albums, my brother, Patrick, actually started playing it. “Hey, out of my room, little brother! Wait a minute. Do that ‘Stair-way to Heaven’ thing again. Hmmm ... maybe you should have the guitar.” It was the least I could do. Pat had been my accomplice in many child-hood antics. “Let’s put fake blood on you and tell Mom you’ve been in an accident!” (Disclaimer: Weigh “awe-some” vs. “parental punishment” before trying.) “Let’s throw cookie dough on the ceiling and see if it sticks!” It does. (Again, disclaimer;

but wow — brother has finger dexter-ity!) He learned fast, playing by ear. Guitar was a good diversion. Our family had some rough times after our parents’ split, and Pat’s relation-ship with our stepfather was strained. Music was a saving grace. So was a sense of humor. He loved telling jokes, reading Mad magazine or bust-ing up with me at the sight of a mouse jumping in a bowl of popcorn. I loved that laughter, but I knew how much it covered. The drinking started gradually. As a teenager, I didn’t see Pat much after he moved in with our grandfather. “Pa” taught him carpentry, which he continued with as a living, but his desire to leave the Midwest couldn’t be contained. He hit the road in his late teens and spent a decade on it. He traveled old school — hitchhiking, hopping trains. He made friends ev-erywhere. Sometimes his only friends

were his guitar, a six-pack and the moonlight, but he always ended up where he was meant to be next. Gonna ramble on, sing my song... Gonna work my way, round the world I can’t stop this feelin’ in my heart —Led Zep-pelin, “Ramble On” I moved around, myself, and for a while we lost touch, but then we found each other again, both living in Cali-fornia. He’d played in some bands while doing construction work. My brother — the proverbial

free spirit, wavy Robert Plant hair glistening in the coastal sun, beer in hand — seemed content. I wondered, though, if the wanderlust was starting to wear off. He’d longed for a lasting relation-ship. He finally found one with Sha-ron, back in Missouri. They bought a house and became friends with all the neighbors. They adored each other and had much in common. Unfortunately, they had one shared trait that chipped away at their nine years of happiness — a dependence on alcohol. Sharon developed liver failure and passed away, with Pat being diagnosed with the same condition soon after. Turning down a liver transplant, he said, “I won’t change. And I want to be with Sharon.” We were sad to let him go, but we pulled together as a family to make his last days meaningful. And they were. There were tears, of course, but we talked and laughed and sang. He lost his finger dexterity and couldn’t play guitar. Friends played for him. His mental dexterity never faltered, and he joked with hospice nurses. The silli-est things became daily delights, like listening to The Chipmunks singing “Polly Wolly Doodle.” What the heck

does that song mean!? Whatever. It was funny in chipmunk voices. Oh, a grasshopper sittin’ on a railroad track Sing Polly wolly doodle all the day —Traditional Pat left us two years ago. We miss him, but promised we wouldn’t remember him with sadness. “No fu-neral,” he said. “Have a kickass party! And smile when you think of me.” We did. And do. That old guitar he loved carries a history, just like many old guitars. They get passed on, often carry-ing the fingerprints of those who’ve played before. With cells of roughened callouses on the strings, they make beautiful sounds, challenging life’s roughness. Those sounds, that energy, I believe ... continues on. The following spring, I was work-ing outside. Nearby, I heard the ice cream truck returning, playing its only song. Here comes “HomeOn-TheRangeMobile,” I thought. As it turned the corner, I hummed along to the deer and antelope’s refrain. Suddenly I heard something different. New material? I listened closer ... and was astonished. Polly wolly doodle all the day. I looked up. And smiled.

11THE REGULAR JOE

The Play’s the Thing ... with Paradox Players!By Gary Payne Artistic Director Did you know that one of the most vibrant theater companies in Austin is located right in the middle of town, with very reasonable ticket prices and plenty of parking? Paradox Players, now in its 13th season, produces three shows a year, often to sold-out audiences, in Howson Hall at the First Unitarian Universalist Church of Austin at 4700 Grover.

This past October’s production was Gore Vidal’s 1960 play “The Best Man,” about the race to the presidency in the midst of backstabbing, double-crossing, dirty dealing and all the games politicians play. It was a vivid snapshot of American political life a half century ago that shows both how much and how little has changed.

The Austin Chronicle’s review of the show said “With a spirited cast, the all-volunteer Paradox Players carry ’The Best Man’ high above their heads, celebrating its dated yet timely and timeless sentiments. In my book, they’ve certainly won.”

Early in 1999 the minister of First UU Church assembled church members who had expressed an interest in drama. The original group functioned as a drama resource for the minister in worship services. Within a

year this small but ambitious theater company extended its vision to a broader audience. In May 2000, it produced its initial Main Stage public production.

Over the years since, Paradox Players has grown significantly in audience size and reputation. Criteria

guiding the selection of plays have been: -message (inspiring optimism and hope), -subject matter (topics provoking thought and discussion), -and sometimes just entertainment.

Top priorities in all productions are quality and fellowship. The First UU church community lends strong support to productions, reliably offering at least 40 volunteers to fill crew and front-of-house positions.

An integral part of Paradox Players is its Readers’ Theater, which has remained popular since the earliest meetings in 1999. Readers’ Theater meets on the second Monday of the month, September through May, at 7:30 p.m. in the gallery at the First UU Church. It is open to anyone in the community. Plays are read and discussed without rehearsing or memorizing, and roles are shared to accommodate all those attending. The evening is just for fun — no acting experience or proficiency required.

The Children’s Theater Company was launched in the fall of 2012 with a troupe of adult actors performing for children. The initial production traveled to four public schools, bringing live theater to 140 children,

as well as presenting a public

performance at the church.On February 8, Paradox Players

will open “The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (abridged)” for a three-week run. Three madcap men in tights weave their wacky way through ALL of Shakespeare’s comedies, histories and tragedies in one wild evening that will leave you breathless and helpless with laughter. The play premiered at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival in 1987, went on to nine record-breaking years on London’s West End, and has been the world’s most performed stage parody for the last 20 years. Visit our website at paradoxplayers.org for more info.

Photo by Margaret Roberts

Photo by Margaret Roberts

12 THE REGULAR JOE

Breathing for RunnersBy Paul Carrozza CEO of RunTex

How should I breathe? This is one of the most often asked running ques-tions. Breathing is a very natural and well-regulated function of the body. If you are breathing too hard, your body is telling you to slow down. If you start your running or walking easily enough, your body will warm up and you won’t need to ask the question. If you start too fast, you will be breath-ing heavily because your body will be trying to get more oxygen into your body and rid it of the carbon dioxide, which is a very uncomfortable feeling and part of the pain associated with running. There is a natural pattern to breathing: it is inhaling and exhaling once every three to four foot strikes. Breathe deeply enough to bring in oxygen and exhale enough to let out the carbon dioxide. Finding this bal-ance comes easily if you are pacing properly and don’t try to override your natural breathing rhythm. If you breathe too shallow and quickly, you will constantly mix the fresh oxygen with carbon dioxide. A smooth breath-ing pattern will rid your body of the carbon dioxide and bring in fresh air with lots of useful oxygen. It is very important to know when it is okay to be breathing heavily and when it’s not. If you are just starting and breathing heavily, you are start-

ing too fast; slow down and let your body warm up. When you are running up a hill, plan on an increase in your breathing, unless you slow your pace or walk. When you are doing inter-vals, expect to breathe heavily; just let your breathing go back to normal before starting the next interval. Distance running has to be a very comfortable rhythmic activity. It isn’t about enduring pain; it is about pacing yourself pain free. You can use your breathing as a signal, like having a heart rate monitor on. Expect an increase in your breathing rhythm when you increase your pace. If your body is ready for the faster pace, your breathing will adjust. If it doesn’t, you will need to slow down until it does. This is a great way to control your intensity and pain levels.

By Sally Hanan The Saintly Wife Irish blessings can be found anywhere, probably because we are exceptionally talented at multiplying words, drinks and babies. I’ve come up with a few of my own, and added in some favorites from others.-May the grass grow long on the road to hell for want of use.-May your troubles be as few and as far apart as my grandmother’s teeth.-May your phone’s badly autocor-rected words always be caught before you hit “send.”-May you always be one degree of separation from at least one celebrity (because knowing one makes you important, right?).-May a mouse ne’er leave your meal bag with a tear in its eye.-May you live and may you wear it out.-May you be an hour in heaven before the devil knows you’re dead.-May you have the hindsight to know where you’ve been, the foresight to know where you’re going, and the insight to know when you’ve gone too far.-May your diet always include all four essential food groups: alcohol, caf-feine, sugar and fat.-May you always have a child to brag about.-May you never run out of toilet paper.

An Irish country road-May your finger never go through the toilet paper.-May your list of Facebook friends extend past your immediate family.-As you slide down the banisters of life, may the splinters never point the wrong way. I’ve always loved the Irish blessing, and now I bless you with the same words....

May those who love you love you; and those who don’t love you,

may God turn their hearts.And if he doesn’t turn their hearts,

may he turn their ankles so you’ll know them by their limping.

Mind the Splinters

13THE REGULAR JOE

The Anniversary of my Death

By Jay Kerner Founder of The Regular Joe Last week was another anniversary of the day my wife and I died. She had been having headaches for a week or so in the evenings, but they would go away through the day at work. Our room upstairs was always the warmest in the house, so we kept a window open an inch or two most of the time. The night it got us, the tem-perature had dropped to single digits, and I shut the window before bed. Around 3 a.m. I was rudely awak-ened by my wife’s snoring. She’s usu-ally a fairly quiet sleeper, so I gave her a nudge to get her to roll over. Noth-ing. Little harder nudge, still nothing. Something’s wrong! I shook her. Still nothing. At that point I tried to climb out of bed to turn on the light, and it seemed like I melted to the floor. I remember lying there, convinced that somehow my bones had been stolen. I don’t know how long I slept there, but I came awake with a start and re-membered that, oh yeah, something’s wrong! I grabbed the phone cord and pulled it to the floor. My wife was unconscious but I kept asking her how to spell 911. Somehow I made the connection

but couldn’t figure out how to hold the phone to my ear, so I just yelled. I told them I thought my wife and I were both having heart attacks. Thanks to caller ID, help was quickly on the way. From that point I just lay there and watched things happen. The first fireman through the door downstairs yelled “Masks on everybody, I’ve got CO2!” He was apparently using some kind of digital monitor, because he next said, “ Oh s***, I’ve got 680 in the kitchen; there won’t be anyone alive in this house!” That was when I figured out we were dead. You know, all things considered, this wasn’t a bad way to go. Com-pletely painless, and hey, just take a gander at my good-looking corpse, will ya! Then, I swear, I started look-ing for the white tunnel. I watch movies; I read the Enquir-er. I know how it’s supposed to work. But there was nothing like that. Before long the firemen and EMTs found my wife. I heard somebody say, “Hey, this one’s still breathing!” My first thought was Great, my wife made it! After that it was, Oh fine, now I’m gonna be dead all by myself. She’s going to collect all the life insurance and run off with the pool boy. We didn’t have a pool at the time, but whatever. While they were carrying her out on a stretcher, somebody checked me

out and said, “What do you know, this one’s breathing too.” Damn it! Cancel the funeral, I guess. In a matter of minutes they had me in the back of an ambulance next to my wife. The blast of freezing air on our skin and in our lungs brought us both around a little. I grabbed her hand and held it all the way to the hospital. When we got there, they put us in separate exam rooms, but as I re-gained more use of my vocal abilities, I bitched ‘til they put us in together. After a couple of hours they had determined that for reasons unknown, even though we had both come in with blood saturation much higher than what is supposed to be the fatal level, we were not only alive, but there didn’t seem to be any brain damage. I knew my wife would be okay when she suggested they test me again. They finally let us leave. I dropped my wife at her mother’s for the night while I went home to find the cul-prit. The gas had been shut off in the meantime, so there was no immediate threat. When I opened the door to the furnace room, I didn’t see it at first, but I stood on a chair and followed the flue from the furnace and hot water heater with a flash light. There it was, plain as day. The vent pipe that carries the poisoned exhaust gases out of the house had vibrated loose, leaving a big gap at the top. What really made

me mad is that we’d had the system professionally installed only six years earlier. A closer inspection showed that on that particular joint, the install-er had neglected to put in the sheet metal screw that insures an accident like this never happens. I took care of the problem and had the whole system inspected by two different companies

before I let my wife step through the door. Naturally we bought the best carbon monoxide detector money can buy. A whole lot of people have told us since that God must have a plan for us. Well that’s fine, but I sure wish he’d tell me what it is so I could get on with it. In the meantime I’ll just tell everyone reading this to go buy a carbon monoxide alarm. You don’t have to buy the most expensive one; the cheap one with nothing more than a loud obnoxious alarm will do the job just as well. You can get one for less than $20. Makes a great gift idea. After the incident we were under-standably a little pushy, but a lot of friends and relatives purchased units. We’ve backed off since then, but in the years since the accident, several different people have called to thank us after alarms that we pestered them to buy alerted them to a dangerous situation. We feel pretty good about that. So now what you get is the annual reminder, and there you have it.

14 THE REGULAR JOE

Joe’s Mug Shots Tell all your friends you saw them in the Joe!

15THE REGULAR JOE

Wordsearch

Jesus is Watching You A burglar broke into a house one night. He shone his flashlight around, look-ing for valuables, and when he picked up a CD player to place in his sack, a strange, disembodied voice echoed from the dark saying, “Jesus is watching you.” He nearly jumped out of his skin, clicked his flashlight off and froze. When he heard nothing more after a bit, he shook his head, promised himself a vaca-tion after the next big heist, and began searching for more valuables. Just as he pulled the stereo out so he could disconnect the wires, clear as a bell he heard, “Jesus is watching you.” Freaked out, he shone his light around frantically, looking for the source of the voice. Finally, in the corner of the room, his flashlight beam came to rest on a parrot. “Did you say that?” he hissed at the parrot. “Yep,” the parrot squawked. “I’m just trying to warn you.” The burglar relaxed. “Warn me, huh? Who in the world are you?” “Moses,” replied the bird. “Moses?” The burglar laughed. “What kind of people would name a bird Moses?” The bird replied, “The kind of people who would name a Rottweiler Jesus.”

C L S C O F F E E I U D D B R Y AO E L E I L O K R T R E H S F R RO C O E L S O S T I R O T F S M LS A C I M M U O U O G T L S H N NP Y A F B R E M V O U D A S S L IE R L U G A E A E M I D E Y E K OC B C D R F C S T V A C H S I S SI H O D N O P E S T I C I D E S GA O J O L E K S M U B L S L L R YL M E M S R I H J R A P B I E T NT E K R A M S R E M R A F E I D YY M D M E S M A F O T C N O R A EF A R I I N D I G E N O U S O G MO D C E L D O R G A N I C R R O OO E E B E M A E R C E C I T R E MD L O R B M V M I H Y L B L E Y RS E S R S S G T E H R C D A M D T

organic local coffee locavoredelicious vegetables farmersmarket homemadebread farms meat icecreamcurry livemusic marketmutts kombuchajuices friendly health indigenousspecialtyfoods green kidsprograms nopesticides