I came through the airport doors to see a man with a sign saying: GAYNOR YOUNG. I introduced myself and we were off. I hadn’t been in Johannesburg for about two years. What struck me was how BIG it seemed. George is smaller and more intimate. And those mountains are a definite draw card! Although the people in Jo’burg are some of the friendliest in the world, I am very happy now living in George!
We arrived at my hotel at 8.45pm and I was given a key to my bungalow. I shut the door, put my case down, took off my coat and breathed a huge sigh. I was exhausted. Before collapsing on my bed and going through my speech, there was something more important – dinner! I was the only one in the dining room. The other guests had all been taken out. So I sat reading my book, eating Spring Rolls and drinking a beer. Yes, incredibly healthy, I know, but a very pleasant way to wind down!
The next morning I met the lady in charge of the event. They were running late. I would be speaking at 9.00 a.m. No problem!
“Lord”, I prayed, “I’m quite nervous. I haven’t spoken for a while and…and…oohhh, don’t let me make a fool of myself! Help me to remember what to say. I want to give a good speech because…well, I…um…like to give good speeches! And Lord, let me glorify You in my speech. So, Lord, well…over to You!”
We stood at the back of the hall and waited for the man on the podium to finish what he was presenting and introduce me. He was speaking very fast. Obviously too fast for my hearing. I couldn’t hear a word he was saying. I remarked very sotto voce to the lady next to me: “Glory, my hearing is bad. I can’t hear a word he is saying. He might as well be speaking in another language!”
“He is,” she answered, “he’s speaking in Spanish.”
“Spanish!“ Oh, oh, I see…” I didn’t see at all!
I looked at the audience. Blow me down, if they didn’t all appear to be Spanish. Not a blonde or red head amongst them! Before I could say anything the audience clapped and I was pushed forward. “Your turn!”
Flip! I faced the audience. The obviously Spanish audience stared back in a friendly manner. Ohhhh, double flip! I considered beginning my speech with: “Buonos Dias!” but as this was the only Spanish I knew, I cast that thought aside. What a battle that speech proved to be! The majority of the audience wore headphones while a person interpreted everything I said into Spanish. Points at which I normally got a response, a smile or a laugh, this time…zilch! I tell a story about my having dinner with another deaf man and usually the audience are crying they are laughing so much. This time…just vague smiles! I thought to myself: Keep going! Don’t lose your thread! Don’t be put off! This audience are just…just reacting differently, that’s all!
I finished with an inner sigh of relief. I sat at a table in the shade of the verandah, took several deep, calming breaths and drank a Coke. You should be drinking a large gin and tonic after what you have just been through, I thought. I held off on the G and T. After all, it was only 10.45!
I was reflecting on how humour and wit are very difficult to successfully transcend language barriers when I heard: “Excuse me!” I looked up to see a man addressing me, “I have just listened to your speech. I was the sound operator.” I smiled at him. “Just recently I have undergone a pretty traumatic experience. Your courage and determination have given me a different perspective on my life. What you said about your faith really struck home. Thanks so much, this morning has been life changing!”
My heart gave a sigh. “Hey, good one, Lord!” I said silently.
Two Spaniards then came up to me and complemented me on my performance and I thought to myself: Don’t always rush in and judge, Gaynor. This audience was just…different, that’s all. They had understood the message I was trying to get across.
As awful as it sounds, when I flopped into my own bed that night, I still thanked God for my other “normal” audiences!
Whilst typing this blog, I am doing what I love to do – eat biltong! I cast my eyes to the left and there, sitting on her haunches in the typical “beg” position is my dog, Perdita! Hell, she is cute, and what she would like is definitely not lost in translation! ”Ah ah, Angel-Face, biltong is a death trap for dogs. Hold on, let’s see what we can find in the fridge.”
Five minutes later, Perdita is happily polishing off last nights stew, while I sit watching a DVD of The Good Wife. Silence reigns. We are content…….

The post Lost in Translation! appeared first on 'ear 'ear! by Gaynor Young.

“Misty, water coloured memories of the way we were…..”    

      Memories.

      That is how a person lives on once they have left this world. Joan Brickhill died on the 15th January 2014. She led a life that formed so many memories in masses of people’s lives. She is dead. But what does that word really mean? That she is no longer here? She is. She still lives in masses of people’s memory. And that is what was so unique about Joan.

       I was part of the cast of Cinderella.  One Sunday, on our day off, we went to a cast members house which led directly onto the beach. There we had a gorgeous braai. (Barbeque as overseas  people will know it!) It was a lovely get together. Joan Brickhill had joined us that day. She was older than all of us there but she had the ability to transcend age. She was able to be as silly as the rest of us!

       I remember us all going for a walk along the beach that evening. It was a grey and windy. I had a windbreaker on and had put my hands deep into the pockets and was simply walking, my toes crunching in the sand. People moved in twos, threes or simply by themselves . I was walking on my own, enjoying the feel of the wind in my hair and I was singing….You could hardly wait to keep our date this lovely Easter morning….Then a  lovely, rich voice from beside me joined in…but my heart beat fast as you came to the door for…..

       It was Joan. I laughed and we continued together….In your Easter bonnet with all the frills upon it, you’ll be the grandest person at the Easter Parade, I’ll be all in clover and when they look us over, you’ll be the grandest person at The Easter Parade…

       With my accident so many memories were killed off, extinguished forever. But this memory has remained. I am so glad that I have that memory of Joan and me walking along a windy beach in the Durban twilight, singing together.

       I had my accident and the next time I saw Joan was in court defending me. This was before my Cochlear Implants and I was unable to hear what she was saying. But I saw that beautiful figure, dressed in pink, facing that awful prosecutor with a calm and resolute air. Mum and Dad told me that she had come down hard on the State Theatre/PACT stating that the stage was lethal to anyone without a dress or tech rehearsal. I had had neither.

       I remember appearing in a show with Joan. Ian Von Memerty put on a show to raise money for The Actors Benevolent Fund. The whole cast got together in the morning for a rehearsal. We were performing that night. I went over my bit and then sat in front and observed the goings on.

      I love watching rehearsals. Ian and Joan Brickhill rehearsed their number. Joan had had 2 hip operations so was fairly frail. As a result they did their numbers sitting on two chairs – a tap routine deluxe! Hell, Joan was a marvellous performer!

      That night I shared a dressing room with Joan. What a hoot that evening was. The theatre stories Joan had to tell! It was great because most of the cast congregated there when they were not onstage.

      After having finished my performance, I then went to the front of house where I could see everything happening onstage. Mark Banks, a stand up comic, came onstage holding one of the programs. He read bits and commented. How I wished that I could hear. The audience were crying they were laughing so much. Later in the dressing room I asked him what he had been saying.  Joan interrupted: “He was tearing me to shreds!”

      “Had you prepared what you were going to say?” I asked him.

      No, he hadn’t. Glory be! Imagine being that quick with your humour. Incredible!

      I looked across at Joan who had finished her performance. She had a bottle of vodka open and was calmly sitting drinking vodka and apple juice. I joined her! Then when she offered me another I very firmly said no. “We have still got our curtain call, Joan. You could get away with a drunken stumble because of your hips but I couldn’t. Although with my brain damage…hmmnnn…..?”

      I didn’t have another.

      The evening was a resounding success. A standing ovation.

      Now Joan Brickhill, the woman who could walk down a theatre staircase like none other is dead. Ashleigh Sendin who played the title role in Brickhill’s production of Annie says: “She had so much room in her heart for so many.”

      That remark says it all. Joan leaves a void that will not easily be filled.

      Memory is a preserver of life. It keeps people alive.

      But…I will miss her.

 

The post Just Joan! appeared first on 'ear 'ear! by Gaynor Young.

Shirley Johnston is one of  my closest friends. When I was playing in Camelot we used to share a lift to the State Theatre because she was appearing in another show at the same theatre complex. We both have the same sense of humour and I like her enormously.

In 1991, two years after my accident, Shirley approached me.”You turn thirty in three weeks. Dave and I were chatting in bed and we decided that we would very much like to host your thirtieth birthday party for you. That is, if you’d like one of course.”

What a question!

Shirley and Dave didn’t set a limit to the amount of people I could invite but I don’t think that they were anticipating 150 people. Word spread and everyone I knew wanted to come.

I had decided to make a lemon meringue pie as my contribution to the party. I used to be an ace lemon meringue pie maker and I was sure that I hadn’t lost my touch. I put all the Marie biscuits into an old Pick ‘n Pay packet ready for crushing later. It was a treat using all of Shirley’s gadgets. An electric fruit squeezer drew the juice from the lemons. An electric mixer mixed the condensed milk with the lemon juice. I was really enjoying myself. I decided to make the pie’s base. Crushed biscuits mixed with melted butter. I took hold of the Pick ‘n Pay packet with all the biscuits and looked around the kitchen. I needed a flat, hard surface. The granite kitchen counter top would do perfectly. I gripped the Pick ‘n Pay packet firmly in my hands. Like an axe-man chopping wood I bought it down hard on the counter. CRASH. Shirley turned from what she was doing startled. CRASH.

“What are you doing?” CRASH.

“I’m crushing the Marie biscuits.” CRASH.

“But Gaynor…” CRASH.

“It works brilliantly.” CRASH.

“Are you sure…” CRASH.

I didn’t hear the rest of her sentence. CRASH.

“That should do it.” CRASH. “Once more for luck.” CRASH. “Just to make sure!” CRASH.

I opened the packet. Two dozen smashed eggs met my eyes. A strangled cry behind me made me turn around. There was Shirley doubled over with the Pick ‘n Pay packet of  crushed Marie biscuits in her hand. We looked at the sodden mess of crushed eggs and laughed till tears poured down our cheeks. We laughed. And laughed. And laughed.

We had to buy another two dozen eggs.

The day I turned thirty was special. Everyone who was there meant something to me. After lunch I said to Shirley: “I would like to say a few words to everyone, okay?” I stood on a table on the patio so that everyone could see me. I was nervous.

“Because of my accident, my speaking still isn’t quite right,” I began  “so if I say anything and you don’t understand, won’t you shout out and tell me? I can’t guarantee that I will hear you but give it a try anyway.” There was a spontaneous round of encouraging laughter at this…and I was away.

I don’t really  remember what I said. I do  remember the heady experience of being in front of an audience  again,  their faces,  laughing, listening,  hanging  on my every word.  I  finished off  with a  poem by ee cummings. I had learnt it before my accident and amazingly I remembered every word. If I didn’t know that he had died many years prior to my accident, I would have sworn that he had written this poem exclusively for me.

i thank You God for most this amazing

day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees

and a blue dream of sky;and for everything

which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,

and this is the sun’s birthday;this is the birth

day of life and love and wings;and of the gay

great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing

breathing any – lifted from the no

of all nothing – human merely being

doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and

now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

 My thirtieth birthday is so clearly imprinted on my mind. I am taken aback by the big heartedness of Shirley and Dave who gave to me such an incredible day, such a treasured memory. I love them both for always giving so much. (Shirley Johnston was the editor of my book, My Plunge to Fame, and she is the scriptwriter for this new film that has just come out: Felix. It has had brilliant reviews and I can’t wait to see it!

Yes, I remember my thirtieth birthday party clearly. Twenty-two years ago I remember the love woven into it.

So clearly.

The post A ‘Smashing’ Time! appeared first on 'ear 'ear! by Gaynor Young.

And while you smile

Another smile smiles

And after a while

There are miles of smiles

And life’s worthwhile

Because you smiled.”

My Gran wrote that for me when I was nine years old. When I think of her, I smile. She was that kind of person.

Thinking back on my English travels, I recall the day that B and I set off for Covent Garden to meet friends of mine for lunch. I looked at the woman siting opposite me on the tube. In front of her was a suitcase on wheels. Her young daughter was asleep next to her. I gave her a smile which was met by a blank stare. She had obviously been travelling for a long time and was in no mood for smiles! Two seats down was a rather dour man who was reading a paper and occasionally just staring into space. Our eyes met and I gave him a friendly smile. His eyes shifted uneasily back to his paper. Obviously the tube was not a place for smiles!

We arrived and meandered around Covent Garden. They had lovely little stalls but it was a case of merely looking. Everything was terrifically expensive. Numerous people caught my eye but not once was I met by an answering smile. Oh well, tante pis! London was obviously not a place for smiles!

We arrived at the restaurant where we had arranged to meet everyone. We had no sooner sat down when Suannne arrived. Suanne Braun is a vibrant personality and carries laughter with her. I had seen Suanne this time last year and it seemed as if we had merely paused for breath in our conversation. And there was Jenny De Lenta. I hadn’t see Jenny for twenty-one years and oh, it felt good hugging her once more. I had forgotten the serenity Jenny carries with her. She introduced us to her husband, Craig and her beautiful littler daughter, Milaya. Craig and Milaya went off to do their own thing and left us girls to talk, catch up on each others lives, laugh together and rejoice in being alive. At 2.30 p.m. ‘B’ leant across to me and said: “I have managed to contact your old friend, Lawrence Hilton. He’s in Leicester Square and will be here in ten minutes.”

Hell, ’twas good seeing him again. He makes me laugh like few other people do. I don’t know what it is! We obviously share the same sense of humour in bucket loads. That afternoon loads of smiles were shared amongst us fellow South Africans!

Walking home I smiled at a woman walking towards me expecting the normal blank stare in return. I was met by an answering beam as the woman passed my side. Not just in the mouth. Her eyes seemed to sparkle as if the two of us had just shared a joke. I stopped in my tracks, looking back at her. Then unable to stop myself I went after her, calling out: “Excuse me, could you just wait a second?”

“Sure,” she said, “What’s the matter?”

“You. You are what matters.” She looked a little puzzled. Understandably! I tried to explain. “I am on holiday here from South Africa, and I have noticed that you Londoners don’t smile at strangers. You don’t smile at people you pass on the street or sitting opposite you on the tube.  Londoners didn’t smile, I thought, that is until I passed you and you met my smile with a radiant beam that took my breath away. Thankyou!”

The woman grinned at me. “I have been living in London for the past seven years. But before that I spent thirty of them growing up in South Africa. I am South African!”

I chuckled the whole way home.

“And life’s worthwhile

Because you smiled.”

The post Smile the While! appeared first on 'ear 'ear! by Gaynor Young.