Days in Rio de Janeiro

Some drivers threw away their car mufflers so that they sounded big and muscle-y. We were able to enjoy these booming roars at our address, a little old villa, Avenida Epitacio Pessoa, 864, night and day. Our home faced the lake Lagoa Freitas where pedal boats moved about calmly. And beyond the lake towered Corcovado, the Christ the Redeemer figure. Renato, on coming home from work, liked to look out to the statue and say he was getting his daily rental money’s worth.

We had Jeff, our Doberman pinscher, whose official name was Mongol de Leimar. Jeff always followed Renato upstairs where he shucked his office clothes and began their game, snapping his necktie at Jeff and going “Heeeyah!” and other such noises, which set Jeff to a high-pitched barking and scampering about. Jeff was a luvverly dog and if he didn’t perform so well in the dog show, as written up in “The Carioca Dobie Derby,” it was our fault, not his.

Those were good years, and my job at the American School of Rio de Janeiro enhanced them. I joined the American Little Theater where I produced a play and was cast in “Kiss Me Kate” as a courtier. My Brazilian tailor could not quite believe the tall conical headgear that went with my gown was not a joke, but he fabricated it. I don’t remember how I made it stay on my head.

Those were the days…..

Comments on Star Wars: The Force Awakens

I went to view it mainly to reacquaint myself with Mark Hamill, whom I had last seen in a play on Broadway on one of Renato’s and my redeye flights up from Rio de Janeiro. Hamill’s star soared high in that one film, and then I no longer saw him anywhere else, though his film and TV credits are extensive.

I had a job in the headmaster’s office at the Escola Americana do Rio de Janeiro at the time Hamill’s uncle, Eugene Johnson, was elementary school principal. Gene was proud of his nephew and thought it would be a treat for us all at the school to have him come down for a visit. “Star Wars” had been a hit in Brazil and people went around saying “May the Force be with you” in Portuguese as well as English.

A Hamill did come, but it was his older brother, whose name I cannot remember, only that he was personable and should have been in the movies himself. Gene went on to retirement in San Diego, but his nephew Mark continues in film, the next to be another Star Wars in 2017.

The photo above, by the way, shows a scene from Rio’s American The Little Theatre’s production “Kiss Me Kate.” I am at left in the mustard-colored gown and tall headdress. My sister in San Francisco sent down the eyelashes.

Driving Dr. Gil

My job in the headmaster’s office of the Escola Americana do Rio de Janeiro was as different as could be from the one I held at San Francisco’s Standard Oil Co. of California (now Chevron). Our office had accordion doors which were always open and looked out at another hill, the Rocinha favela, or slum. Below was the baseball diamond and sometimes I went down and acted as cheerleader with the teachers. On enrollment days my fellow secretary Alice and I processed a hundred or two new students. There was one American parent of special note, which I shall deal with later…..

My boss the headmaster, Dr. Gilbert Brown, was accustomed to riding with me down the hill after work when his wife, a teacher, left early with their car. On this day, as we exited the second gate at the side of the hill, we saw that my Beetle’s side window was broken. I opened the door and found both front seats gone.

Gil said, “Hmmmm,” and “Wait one,” then re-entered the gate and walked into the kindergarten building, returning with a little yellow chair. This was to be my driver’s seat. He climbed into the back, and set to wrapping the seat belt around me and the chair back. Getting a strong grip on both sides of the chair, he said “Go with God!” and we did. Well, slowly as I drove, the chair teetered hard over right and left on curves, and in this way we made it down the hill, me laughing helplessly as I steered and he gripped.

I asked if I should drop him off at the tennis club as usual, to which he answered, “Are you nuts? Go straight home, I can take a taxi from there.”

Gil went on to become headmaster of the American School in Costa Rica, and semi-retired to travel around the world as speaker and consultant. His wife died recently and I regret I could not travel to North Caroline for her memorial.

Kiss Me Kate

After a year in Rio de Janeiro as an overseas corporate wife and mulling over an occupation — not bridge, no — not golf, no — not the beach — I got a job at the American School of Rio de Janeiro and then joined the American troupe, The Little Theater. Our director Ruth Stanton launched a production that had us rushing off to have our costumes made. Mine was a mustard-colored gown (very odd I thought) and a tall dunce headpiece with veil. That item bemused my Brazilian tailor, who proved up to the job of securing it to my head.

I went up there to try out for the lead part as Kate, sang “So In Love” and received enthusiastic applause. But next day as I read from the script, “I hate men!” I looked over at the seats to see everyone falling over with mirth. Ruth said kindly, “It’s just not for your sweet voice, dear.” I knew that but had tried anyway, bringing my meanest vocal up from the guts. At this stage in my life I am still being asked by strange callers to call my mommy to the phone.

Well, Ruth gave me some extra “bits” to do, in one scene retreating backward from the court bully. In the audience, Renato was sending anguished pleas to San Gennaro in case I tripped (I do that a lot, or at least, I did). It is accurate to say that all my theatrical exploits were harder on Renato than on me. I was having fun. He had to bring himself to the performances and have panic attacks. At the performance itself his attempts to photograph me on stage were so erratic that a friend sitting beside him took the camera away from him and did the job herself. The results were far better than portraits of the necks of people sitting in front.

For one gig at the Hotel Intercontinental, I drove myself there, handed my Beetle over to the valet, and found I had locked the door from the inside. The valet looked at me, said he had to break the window, and proceeded to do so. It was Renato’s job to have it fixed, just as he replaced the stolen car seats. Not that he did these things himself. His driver Yusef came to the house and drove the car away sitting on a crate. I believe he found my seats at the flea market and bought them back. The broken car window was easier to fix.

The broken car window blog will be next.