When I was a teenager, I was in school and community theater productions. But as I got older, I left that part of my life behind, and focused instead on a career in sports reporting. I have also officiated amateur athletics for almost four decades. The world of the stage seemed to no longer fit in my life.

Last weekend, more than 40 years after leaving the theater, I performed in Starlight Community Theater’s production of the musical comedy Company.

What I learned might astonish you. Sports and theater have a surprising number of commonalities. Really.

Actors spend much of their time back stage, waiting to go on. The area is chaotic and a bit messy, strewn with props and makeup, costumes and odd bits of scenery. But it wasn’t until I was applying lipstick above the actors’ cubbies that I smelled a familiar odor, the aroma emanating from a pair of well-used taps. Sweaty shoes. The comparison to a locker room was unmistakable. Don’t think me strange, but I smiled.

Before the play begins, the actors gather for what, in my mind, is a pre-game pep talk. The director discusses what we did well in the last show and what we can improve upon in the next. Actors and stage-crew members who have gone above and beyond are singled out for praise. Then we give a rousing cheer and wait for kickoff … um … curtain.

As anyone who’s ever acted in a play surely knows things don’t always go as planned. Just like a running back who lets the ball slip through his hands, actors occasionally fumble their lines. And that is where teamwork comes in. The other performers step up, grab those dropped words, and get things back on track. In fact, by definition, a play is nothing but teamwork. Just as in football, baseball, ice hockey, soccer, basketball and any other team sport, one player is simply not enough. All the components in a performance – actors, stage managers, costume and make-up designers, director, and producer – must work together, if the play is to succeed.

And then there are the heroes. Don’t scoff. I witnessed a hero 24 hours before opening night. One actor was felled by an emergency appendectomy, and another, with no knowledge of the play, appeared for Thursday night’s rehearsal. Company would open the next evening. If anyone deserves a Most Valuable Player Award it’s Andrew Driggers who got off the bench and saved the show.

I’ll be honest. This sports/theater connection never occurred to me before. But the comparisons are hard to miss. There is one thing, however, that I wish would happen when I referee football. Backstage at intermission, actors are sometimes presented with small trinkets attached to handwritten cards, notes penned by audience members saying what a great job we’re doing. I’d really like to get one of those at halftime. One from a coach would be especially nice.

A girl can dream.

Tickets are still available for this weekend’s production of Company.

Come out and join us.

https://www.starlightcommunitytheater.com/tickets

Anne Montgomery’s latest novel, The Scent of Rain, tells the story of two Arizona teenagers whose fates become intertwined. Rose flees into the mountains to escape from her abusive polygamous community where her only future is marriage to a man older than her father. Adan, whose only wish is to be reunited with his mother, is on the run from the cruelties of the foster care system. Are there any adults they can trust? Can they even trust each other?  The Scent of Rain is available at https://www.indiebound.org/book/9780996390149 and wherever books are sold. 

Sometimes, we teachers feel a little bit guilty about our long summer break. Though I sense that some of my students may think we just curl up under our desks to hibernate, waiting for their return, we do take vacations.

I’m going to guess here that many of my brethren continue to look for learning opportunities, even when they’re off sipping iced rum and lounging by the sea reading naughty novels. Searching for things we can share with our students is just part of a teacher’s DNA.

I had just such an educational opportunity recently during a trip to St. Croix in the US Virgin Islands. I’m a scuba diver, and while there is much to learn from the sea and its creatures, for me it is a place of peace and serenity, baring the sometimes off-kilter dives when we lose the boat or must maneuver in swift currents or water with little in the way of visibility.

On a previous trip to the island, we learned about chaney, small pieces of pottery that can be found on land and in the sea. There are several explanations for the fragments, most centering around the fact that when plates and cups and teapots broke, they served no further use and were simply thrown away. As archeologists know from studying ancient pottery, the stuff is pretty hard to destroy. Sure, it breaks into smaller pieces, but the firing of clay makes it one of the most durable substances on the planet. In fact, fragments of ceramics found in southern China have been dated back 20,000 years.

We were diving under the Fredriksted Pier, which, despite the ravages of last fall’s Hurricane Maria, is teeming with interesting and beautiful sea life. While the original structure was destroyed and rebuilt after Hurricane Hugo in 1988, the area has been welcoming passenger and merchant ships for hundreds of years.

My sweetie pie swam over to me holding out a piece of plate, which he later said he found sticking up out of the sand. I could see the delicate pink and white design swirling on the rim. But I had no idea how old the fragment was until we visited the Chaney Chicks. The shop, and yes, it’s called Chaney Chicks, is on the other side of the island in Christiansted.

“Oh! That was made in the 1500s,” said Denise, one of the Chicks.

She would explain that sea chaney is rarer than land chaney, and doesn’t hold up quite as well as the pieces that are found in the soil. The fact that the pink design on our chunk was still clearly visible after centuries in the ocean was shocking.

A quick glance around the shop showed chaney of all sizes and colors, many delightfully wrapped in silver and gold wire for dangling in one’s ears or about the neck. And, of course, I couldn’t resist.

I know there’s a lesson in all of this somewhere. I’m working on it.

Anne Montgomery’s latest novel, The Scent of Rain, tells the story of two Arizona teenagers whose fates become intertwined. Rose flees into the mountains to escape from her abusive polygamous community where her only future is marriage to a man older than her father. Adan, whose only wish is to be reunited with his mother, is on the run from the cruelties of the foster care system. Are there any adults they can trust? Can they even trust each other?  The Scent of Rain is available at https://www.indiebound.org/book/9780996390149 and wherever books are sold. 

The Weight of Ink

Rachel Kadish

Mariner Books

Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

The Weight of Ink, by Rachel Kadish, tells two stories. One is the fish-out-of-water tale of a 17^th century Jewish orphan who is taken in by a rabbi in London following the horrific persecution of the Jews in Portugal during the Inquisition. The young woman, Ester Velasquez, is the unfortunate victim of an insatiable intellect. Unfortunate solely because scholarly women were frowned upon. A woman’s place, as in most cultures until relatively recently, was in the home making babies. There simply were no other options for a “normal” woman.

A modern-day counterpart to Ester’s tale is that of Helen Watt, an ill, bitter historian who has spent much of her life buried in musty libraries, forever wondering if she made the right choice in leaving the brooding Israeli she once loved.

The two women are united by a cache of documents found hidden under a stairwell, papers that Helen and Aaron Levy, a self-centered, American doctoral student, begin translating, an endeavor that leads them to the mysterious scribe who appears to be dutifully documenting the teachings and letters of the blind Rabbi HaCoen Mendes, but who soon begins sharing her own thoughts with the great religious philosophers of her time under assumed names.

Kadish does an admirable job of relating the frustration of Ester’s world where there are no half-way options, and the life of those in the nascent Jewish London community where members often wore crucifixes to hide their true religious leanings. Her descriptions of the city during and after the Great Plague are both evocative and chilling.

It’s clear Kadish spent a great deal of time researching the beliefs of 17^th century religious scholars, especially in regard to man’s relationship with God. Often, these opinions are presented as letters. I did struggle at times with the depth of the concepts presented and perhaps should reread some sections, as I probably did not get the gist of all the philosophic discussions. Also, I struggled to understand the connection Kadish was trying to make between Helen and Esther, aside from their similar approaches to marriage and domesticity. But that is probably no fault of the author’s.

Clearly, The Weight of Ink is no summer beach novel. However, it is a worthy, though challenging, read.

 

About Reviews: Since I have asked so many people to review my books, I thought it only fair that I do a few myself. As I am a slow reader, my reviews will be sporadic. Also, I will review books, movies, and TV shows of my own choosing and will not take requests.

Anne Montgomery’s latest novel, The Scent of Rain, tells the story of two Arizona teenagers whose fates become intertwined. Rose flees into the mountains to escape from her abusive polygamous community where her only future is marriage to a man older than her father. Adan, whose only wish is to be reunited with his mother, is on the run from the cruelties of the foster care system. Are there any adults they can trust? Can they even trust each other?  The Scent of Rain is available at https://www.indiebound.org/book/9780996390149 and wherever books are sold. 

I have mentioned, lately, that I’m in a play. My first real foray onto the stage in over 40 years. The day I auditioned for the Starlight Community Theater production of Company, my first task was to fill out a form. Question 1: Rate your tap-dancing skills on a scale of one to ten. The fact that there wasn’t a zero option had me seriously overstating said abilities, when I was forced to circle one.

I have managed to avoid the tap-dancing issue over the last few months of rehearsals, but with opening night approaching, I could no longer put off the issue. I needed shoes.

I was directed to Nathalie & Co. Dancewear and Little Things for my theater shoes – strappy-heeled numbers that prevent the noisy clomping inherent with regular heels – and tap shoes. It was, as one might expect, a shop awash in pink and ruffles and leotards. The frilly atmosphere jarred me, at first. As those who know me can attest, I am confident and secure on a football field or a baseball diamond, but in a ballet/dance store not so much. I flashed on one of those unfortunate moments long past when my mother forced me to take ballet. Following a performance, the phrase, “bull in a china shop,” was bandied about. My lessons were, mercifully, curtailed after that.

But my fears were quickly allayed by the lovely Miss Nathalie herself. After a brief look at my bare feet, she produced the perfect sizes on the first try. Though I argued with her, initially, saying the shoes would never fit.

“I’ve been doing this a long time,” she said, smiling brightly.

Though I’m apprehensive, I will bring my tap shoes to rehearsal tonight. I consider that the director has deftly placed me near fabulous singers throughout the staging, which, well, makes me sound great. But I don’t think the same strategy will work for tap dancing. Then again, in a brilliant move, the choreographer has given me exactly six beats of tap. Six. That’s it. However, as Albert Einstien proved, time is relative. Thirty seconds of a massage are vastly different than thirty seconds of root-canal surgery.

How will my tap-dancing stint go? I have no idea. Either way, opening night looms. If you want to see how it all turns out, join me and the rest of the Company cast members for two-weekends of performances beginning on July 20.

https://www.starlightcommunitytheater.com/

Anne Montgomery’s novel, The Scent of Rain, tells the story of two Arizona teenagers whose fates become intertwined. Rose flees into the mountains to escape from her abusive polygamous community where her only future is marriage to a man older than her father. Adan, whose only wish is to be reunited with his mother, is on the run from the cruelties of the foster care system. Are there any adults they can trust? Can they even trust each other?  The Scent of Rain is available at https://www.indiebound.org/book/9780996390149 and wherever books are sold.

I’m in a play …

I’ll get back to that shortly.

But first, let’s talk about STEM.

As a high school teacher, I am delighted to see students becoming more interested in Science, Technology, Engineering and Math, and have great hope that today’s young people will conquer many of the problems our world currently faces.

High school is a time when kids should branch out and try new things, find what they’re good at and what they enjoy. My school has a vast array of electives, and we have more tech-based options on the way.

My concern is the obvious fact that some students are not inclined toward math and science. If I were a child today, I would not fit easily into the STEM world. Luckily, when I was growing up, there were myriad opportunities in theater and music, classes and clubs that made me want to go to school, despite my struggles in other courses.

Every student needs a bright spot in the school day, that class or club or team that excites them. With the STEM drive, it’s easy to see that other electives might get pushed aside. Note that I am not denigrating STEM, I am simply pointing out that as more students gravitate to those areas other elective classes will empty out.

What can we do? In regard to class options, not much. Children will make their choices and if not enough students sign up for choir or drama or dance or ceramics, those classes will be eliminated.

So, communities need to provide options. Now, back to the play. Starlight Community Theater in North Phoenix “is a 501c3 non-profit community theatre corporation dedicated to providing live theatre to entertain and enrich our community and to encourage youth and adult participation by providing growth and educational opportunities through a variety of theatrical experiences, both on and off stage.”

Friends talked me into auditioning for Starlight’s production of Company. I now find myself interacting on stage with mostly young people, and their drive and inspiring performances remind me of what I enjoyed about theater over 40 years ago.

What we need is your support. Eight performances of Company, the Tony Award-winning Steven Sondheim play about marriage and relationships, are scheduled for the last two weekends in July. Come and join us. Support Starlight and community-arts programs everywhere.

Let’s make sure our young people continue to have choices.

https://www.starlightcommunitytheater.com

 

Anne Montgomery’s latest novel, The Scent of Rain, tells the story of two Arizona teenagers whose fates become intertwined. Rose flees into the mountains to escape from her abusive polygamous community where her only future is marriage to a man older than her father. Adan, whose only wish is to be reunited with his mother, is on the run from the cruelties of the foster care system. Are there any adults they can trust? Can they even trust each other?  The Scent of Rain is available wherever books are sold.

 

 

 

The 2018 Independent Publisher Book Awards

“The Independent Publisher Book Awards honor the year’s best independently published titles from around the world. The awards are intended to bring increased recognition to the thousands of exemplary independent, university, and self-published titles published each year.”

WEST-MOUNTAIN – BEST REGIONAL FICTION

BRONZE MEDAL

The Scent of Rain

By Anne Montgomery

(Treehouse Publishing Group)

Anne Montgomery’s latest novel, The Scent of Rain, tells the story of two Arizona teenagers whose fates become intertwined. Rose flees into the mountains to escape from her abusive polygamous community where her only future is marriage to a man older than her father. Adan, whose only wish is to be reunited with his mother, is on the run from the cruelties of the foster care system. Are there any adults they can trust? Can they even trust each other?  The Scent of Rain is available wherever books are sold.

Praise for The Scent of Rain

Midwest Book Review

“A deftly crafted and compelling read from cover to cover.”

Childishly Passionate Reviews

“Essential reading for both young adults and adults alike. There is literally nothing else I can say, except buy this book.”

 The Haunted Reading Room

“A heartrending, heart-wrenching fictional narrative … Even in the midst of tribulations, The Scent of Rain celebrates the resilience and persistence of the human spirit.”

YABOOKSCENTRAL

“The characters in ‘The Scent of Rain’ added to an already amazing storyline.”

The Book Return

“I loved ‘The Scent of Rain’.  It is very apparent that Montgomery did extensive amounts of research … I absolutely think everyone should read it.”

Hasty Book List

“Whew. What a whirlwind. The story had been building and building and it all came to a tumbling end.”

 

 

 

I don’t recall the last time someone asked for my measurements. But, since I’m performing in a community theater production of Company, the producer contacted me with the following message: “We are continuing to source vintage costumes, please send your measurements …”

So, I searched for the tape measure I had seen once or twice over the last four decades, and, when it failed to appear, I had to purchase a new one.

In the interest of not having to squeeze myself into a costume that might cause me to beg for a fainting couch, I figured I had best go on line and make sure I was measuring myself correctly. Along the way I was not surprised to note that 36-24-36 – or the Barbie shape – remains the ideal, and has been considered such since the 1960s. Those of us who grew up during that time understand the bewilderment caused by staring at those naked dolls and then looking in the mirror.

After fussing with the tape, I couldn’t help but pop my measurements into a Body Type Calculator that claimed it would define my shape.  I needn’t have taken the time. I am relatively curveless, so the fact that my physique is described as straight or rectangular was no shock. As a teen, my mother once looked me up and down in a dressing room and announced, “You are built just like your father.” Then she emitted the tiniest of disappointed sighs. As I was growing up, I sometimes recalled that comment with some understandable confusion.

The Barbie architype had its roots in the 1910s, when Gibson Girls like Camille Clifford were in vogue. Then, like now, the female ideal was almost impossible to achieve.

In the sports world, where I spent a good chunk of my life as a reporter, the “tale of the tape” is an expression from boxing that refers to the pre-fight measurement of two opponents, a bit of pugilistic pageantry the point of which is to compare and contrast boxers physical attributes to one another.

And that, of course, is what we women do when viewing pictures and videos of the “perfect” people. We compare ourselves to them and, like my youthful Barbie musings, we rarely come out thinking positively about ourselves.

So, as I am older and presumably wiser, and believe in only optimistic thoughts … I am now cutting my new tape measure into itty bits.

 

Tickets are on sale now for the

Starlight Community Theater production of Company

https://www.starlightcommunitytheater.com/

 

 

I have a couple of freshman classes where I teach communications skills. My high school students dabble in public speaking and share stories and messages via print, radio, video, and digital design.

Recently, they were working on video commercials, projects that required them to identify their target audience, pick a product, design an original advertisement by creating scripts and storyboards, direct, shoot, and act, then edit their video into 30-second spots that incorporate music and graphics.

The project is a long and complicated process. As an enticement, I explain that people who can create successful marketing campaigns are in high demand and do extremely well, as far as their bank accounts are concerned. (The money angle is one that often motivates my students, and I am not shy about using the method.)

Part of the project’s process consists of my student teams convincing me that they recognize what the target audience wants. That’s what I had in mind when I saw the Versace Bright Crystal perfume ad. A very young-looking blond, preternaturally thin, clad in a silver-sequined sheath, enters a darkened room clutching a cut-glass bottle filled with amber liquid. She stares into the container as if searching for all the answers in the universe. Then, she reclines on a silky couch, where we are treated to a close-up of her strappy silver spikes, as she rubs her legs together. After which, in an apparent orgasmic frenzy, she caresses her face and neck with the bottle.

Hummmm?

I get that the target audience is supposed to be young women, since they wear the stuff. But the ad seems directed at men, who perhaps might be enticed to purchase the potion in the hope of transforming their significant other into the lovely, writhing, nymph. (Sure, gentlemen, that’ll work.)

I popped on my reporter’s cap and looked into who perfumers are selling to, which led me to a whole bunch of weird fragrance advertisements, all containing the prerequisite slim, stunning women and big blast of sexual innuendo.

Then I paused and wondered why these ads were annoying me.

Here’s the thing. We live in a bright new age where we are supposed to value girls and women for their minds and achievements. Then there’s the Me Too movement that points a big bad finger at those who have perpetrated sexual abuse against our sisters, wives, mothers, and daughters. And yet, we still have ads like Versace’s flooding our media feeds. Messages often displaying terribly young-looking hyper-sexualized actors, besotted with a product that insinuates they are easily infatuated with mindless pursuits, ads that imply females are worthy only in regard to their beauty and sexiness.

The problem is, and I hate to say this, these advertisements work. The U.S. fragrance industry brings in $5.2 billion annually. The advertisers creating these commercials are getting paid a ton of money for their ability to identify just what that target audience wants.

Ugh! How do I explain this to my students?

 

Anne Montgomery’s latest novel, The Scent of Rain, tells the story of two Arizona teenagers whose fates become intertwined. Rose flees into the mountains to escape from her abusive polygamous community where her only future is marriage to a man older than her father. Adan, whose only wish is to be reunited with his mother, is on the run from the cruelties of the foster care system. Are there any adults they can trust? Can they even trust each other?  The Scent of Rain is available at https://www.indiebound.org/book/9780996390149 and wherever books are sold.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Oh! Just a minute,” my vet said. A few moments later he returned with a squeeze bottle filled with amber liquid. “Give him a bath.”

“Him” would be my problem-child cat, Westin, an unlucky feline who was abandoned in a hotel room with 29 other cats. Westin was the last of the group to be adopted from the Arizona Humane Society – all named after hotels in an homage to their discovery – because of myriad health issues.

But when my foster son announced, “He’s just like me, Mom. No one wanted me either,” our fates became entwined. Poor kitty ruptured an eardrum the week after we brought him home. He didn’t eat for ten days. Every morning, I expected to find a sad, lifeless, little body. But then, one day, rather miraculously, Westin dug into a dish of food and he hasn’t stopped eating since.

He’s a big boy now, but allergies and infections continue to plague him, despite my ministrations. In fact, I do believe after the last year and a half of ear cleaning and drug dispensing, I should have at least a few credits in veterinary medicine.

I stared at my vet. I like him. He’s a hockey fan. So we talk about hockey and Westin.

“What do you mean give him a bath?” I tried to picture the event. For some reason, a cat wearing a shower cap popped into my head, no doubt courtesy of some silly web meme.

“Make sure you don’t get any soap in his eyes. And, let the suds stay on him for five minutes, before you rinse it off. Take him in the shower so he can’t get away.”

My vet said this so matter-of-factly, he might have been describing a process as effortless as making a cup of tea. I wondered just where I should hold on to Westin during his watery excursion, but I didn’t ask.

As I sometimes do when perplexed, I consulted my sweetie pie. After all, he was the one who assisted in the creation of the kitty purrito, the roll-the-cat-in-a-towel-device that allowed us to deposit drugs into Westin’s ears and mouth without incurring a trip to the emergency room.

“You’ve got to be kidding!” was Ryan’s initial response. Then, more thoughtfully, “I’ve heard some cats like water.”

We stared at one another, clearly understanding that Westin was probably not one of those rare beasts.

When I assured Ryan that a bath was required and that we were the bathees, he started his research. He asked the guys at work if they had ever bathed a cat. Seems there was quite a bit of laughing at that point.

“Maybe we could get Westin some booties,” Ryan recommended. “I don’t want to get all scratched up.”

Since I too did not relish the thought of my flesh being sliced into bloody streamers, I hit the Internet. I found a lovely pink and yellow kitty-bathing bag that didn’t look very practical and a black face mask called a cat muzzle that appeared to be something the Marquis de Sade might have fancied. And while there were kitty booties for cold weather, there didn’t seem to be any for the humane protection of humans. There was also a product called nail caps, a glue-on invention that the conscientious cat owner can apply to each kitty nail to prevent the scratching of furniture. As most non-crazy cat owners realize, you have two choices. Love you cats or your furniture. One can’t have both.

Tonight, we will tackle our sudsy assignment. Stay tuned for Act Two of A Cat in the Bath.

 

Anne Butler Montgomery’s novel, The Scent of Rain, tells the story of two Arizona teenagers whose fates become intertwined. Rose flees into the mountains to escape from her abusive polygamous community where her only future is marriage to a man older than her father. Adan, whose only wish is to be reunited with his mother, is on the run from the cruelties of the foster care system. Are there any adults they can trust? Can they even trust each other?  The Scent of Rain is available at https://www.indiebound.org/book/9780996390149 and wherever books are sold.