You're Invited to a Free Performance of a Show I'm Doing with Jeffrie Givens: "Retard!"

Jeffrie Givens was called "Retard!" by kids and retarded by teachers. She's come a long way.

You are invited to a special performance of the show that tells her story, "Retard!""

In it, I interview her and accompany her on the piano.

It is the reinvented version of her previous show, Big, Black, and Shy.

It will be at my home in Oakland, CA on Sunday May 4 at 2 PM. It will conclude at around 3:30.

We did our first performance of it last month in San Francisco and the audience truly loved it.

This performance will be free but my living room holds only 22 people. So, if you want to attend, you might want to email me soon, letting me know the number of seats you want. My email address is mnemko@comcast.net.

Days of Our Work Lives: An unvarnished look at work today: Part II: Susan's Saga. Episode 7: Luck

Days of Our Work Lives

Part II: Susan's Saga  

Episode 7: Luck

In the previous episode, Susan's bravery in inviting her tutor to dinner didn't pay off. He "still" had a girlfriend, he lived too far away, blah, blah, blah. 

So she was back to the starting line, except that she was enjoying her after-school volunteer gig directing Rent at that gritty middle school. Those same kids who wouldn't sit still for geometric theorems and Shakespeare's intricacies were, in rehearsal, as focused as a dog on a bone.

Alas, Susan's bad luck continued. During one of those rare moments the kids were acting up between acts of the brush-up rehearsal before the final performance, the principal, Linda Wright, walked in.

Susan thought, "Oh God. I'm going to get fired. Then I'll have nothing. Absolutely nothing." And when Linda said, "Would you step outside a moment, Ms. Sapian?," Susan was sure she was a goner. The principal wouldn't want to embarrass Susan in front of her students. She was going to tell Susan that today is her last day.

But sometimes, only when it's darkest do we see light. When they got outside, Susan said, "I'm so sorry Ms. Wright, they're usually quite good. I..."

Linda interrupted "Don't worry. It happens to all of us. That wasn't why I came by. You've done a great job with Rent. Very impressive with a tough group of kids. How'd you like a paying job? We need a attendance officer for the rest of the school year. Ours just got into a car accident and will be out until next September and I thought of you. $44,000 a year plus full benefits."

Susan couldn't help herself: She started to cry. "Yes, oh yes, Oh thank you!"

Susan thought, "So the career counselor was right! Volunteer and do a good job and you may get a job!"

"Can you start tomorrow?"  

"Yes, oh yes!"

The next episode is HERE.

Come See Jeffrie Givens and Me in Her One-Woman Show: Big, Black, and Shy

Jeffrie Givens with my doggie, Einstein, who has a role in the show

I'm pleased to announce the seventh performance of the one-woman show I have produced, directed, co-wrote, and piano-accompany: Big, Black and Shy. 

It will be at 2 PM on Sunday, Nov. 17 at my home at 5936 Chabolyn Terrace, Oakland, CA. The first six performances all sold out and all received a standing ovation. And since then, we've changed and improved the show significantly.

Me accompanying Jeffrie in Big, Black & Shy

Big, Black, and Shy is the inspiring story of, and told by, Jeffrie Givens, one of the shyest people ever to come out of East Oakland who additionally struggled because her values were different from the typical kids' in her community.

She tells her story in words and in songs---mainly some of Broadway show's greatest (and most challenging) songs--and truly, she's gone from being a performer who was as stiff as a cadaver to, well, you'll see.

The Rossmoor News review of the show:

 "Wow, what a terrific voice and what an inspiring story. Givens is an extremely talented young woman! After the show, I found myself comparing this experience in some degree to what I felt when I first witnessed Susan Boyle perform on 'Britain's Got Talent.'”

We believe the show is enjoyed best in an intimate setting so we are doing it in the living room of my home, which can seat only 22 people. Starting at 1:30, champagne will be served while I play the piano. The show will begin at 2:00 and end at around 3:30.

As I mentioned, each of the previous six performances sold out, so if you'd like to come, I suggest you buy your tickets now. They are $20 (all goes to Jeffrie) and you can buy them by emailing me your MasterCard or Visa number, expiration date, the zip code on the card's billing address and, of course, the number of tickets you want. My email address is mnemko@comcast.net. No one has ever emailed me their credit card information and had that information stolen but if you're concerned, you can call it into my office: 510-655-2777.  Also feel free to call if you have any questions about the show.  (Update: only eight seats remain as of this writing.)

My Dad, My Hero

My mom is beginning to fail. I'm going to visit her in NY tomorrow. Among the many thoughts that float through me are of my dad, Boris Nemko.

I've often written about his having used work to get past his Holocaust memories and to afford to move my mom, sister, and me from a Bronx tenement. But I just flashed on some other things about him that, on reflection, really were quite heroic. Perhaps they'll inspire you as they continue to inspire me.

My dad didn't open his clothing store in one of New York City's poorest neighborhoods (105 Moore St. Brooklyn) because he had a political desire to serve the poor. It was all he could afford. He didn't charge $1 for shirts and $1.98 for Ray-Ban sunglasses because he wanted to be kind to the poor. That was all the market there could bear.

But even after he could afford to move his store to a less dangerous neighborhood, he stayed...for 40 years. He stayed even though people would constantly steal from his store. Twice, he was awakened in the middle of the night by the police--they called to tell him that robbers had emptied his store. A third time, the police called to say that someone broke a window and tossed a lighted kerosene-soaked towel into his store. Half the merchandise was burned, much the other half ruined because of the smoke.

Apart from those anomalies, every day, my dad had to endure the smell of stale blood from the live chicken market next door merging with the smell of deep-fried pork intestines from the deli on the other side plus the smell of the garbage that people would throw into the street. So often, he had to endure unfair customers. For example, when I was helping my dad at the store one Saturday, I recall one customer who, for 20 minutes, tried on suit after suit, asking my father question after question, which made all the other customers wait. And after that, he said he couldn't afford the $25 for the suit and asked if my father would sell it to him for $10. My father said the best he could do was $20 and the customer pranced out laughing.

My father kept his store open from 8:30 a.m. until 7 p.m.Monday through Saturday. And before he could afford a car, he would take a bus, train, plus a six-block walk (rain, snow, or shine) to and from his store. And on many Sundays, he would go to the Lower East Side to buy merchandise for the store, carting boxes of shirts, pants, etc back to his store. 

Nevertheless, my dad stayed for 40 years, serving that community, providing basic products, things they really needed, at an affordable price, and providing services unheard of today. For example, my dad would do alterations for customers for free. He had a sewing machine in the back and did the work when business was slow.

I believe that the small shopkeepers who, like my dad, endured everything from ongoing robbery to ongoing stench and kept on serving--with integrity--are far more worthy of praise than are the politicians, athletes, and pop culture stars we genuflect before.