Ma Rainey's Black Bottom

To grease my writing chops and curtail my consumption of easy video and passive entertainment, I have instituted a requirement for myself! For each film (play) I consume, I am required ("momma takes charge!") to write some thoughts and reflection. To satisfy my continued appetite for film and books, I scramble to catch up...


On a gorgeous autumnal Saturday night, after grapefruit gelato from Pitango, I swing by The Waterfront Hotel, swiftly becoming a venue nurturing local music talent, to catch Nelly's Echo for one hour before waltzing across the square to the Vagabond Players where I viewed Ma Rainey's Black Bottom by August Wilson. Where else, but in Fells Point?

Always a treat to have live entertainment, I travelled back to 1920s Chicago, and was hit by all the ways things have not changed in America. Perhaps nothing ever really changes. Is this the beginning of dynamics I see in my City? My nation? Our World? Or was the beginning well before even Levee, Toledo, and Ma Rainey scuffled. Good storytelling taps into the human spirit in all of its struggle and beauty. All of its shortcomings and its strengths. It sometimes seems like the same thing happening over and over again. Sometimes, it feels so endless! Sometimes it feels so dependable. Sometimes it feels so full of joy!

I am entering the zone. Stories are being written in the air around me as I walk, as I think, swim, drive, bike. It is now my challenge to capture them and give them voice.