If Oprah or Obama jumped off a bridge…

I just read a New York Times article stating that during his Sunday night 60 Minutes interview, Obama mentioned having read a book on F.D.R. (he did not specify the author or title).   The NYT article, titled For Books, Is Obama New Oprah?, describes the resulting scramble among authors to identify which of the books Obama had actually read and referred to, as well as the spike in sales of similar books on a number of online book sellers.

By the end, the story had nearly brought tears to my eyes:  imagine, a president who reads, who is interested in honoring and learning from history, and who will–hopefully–help spark interest in the flagging cultural literacy of our nation.  This is huge for someone like myself (a museum curator, a theater person, a writer).  The fact that I was so moved is a symptom of how intellectually bereft our country’s administration has been the past few years–and it is internationally embarrassing that intellectualism is now considered extraordinary.

However…

I just wish it didn’t take Oprah starting a book club or Obama just mentioning a book in passing to ignite curiosity–and make it cool to be curious and smart–among my fellow citizens.  Now THAT would be change.

 

a child’s view

I read an article about Roald Dahl today, and was struck by what I prize most in creative people like him:  his ability to find a sense of joy and silliness in even the most bleak times, or even in the mundane.  The same is true for the work of Maurice Sendak (read an excellent New York Times article about him here); these two authors are able to tap into elemental fears and joys that all ages can relate to.  I find this ability even more poignant because both men had difficult, even painful, personal lives.

For years, I worked alongside my father as he wrote, produced, and directed children’s theater shows.  He–akin to authors like Dahl and Sendak–could access a child-like vision of the world, and could see the phenomenal in the ordinary.  We also talked often about his belief that it was important to not “water down” the villains.  It was fascinating to see children thrilled by being scared, but, through those stories, were shown how courage, bravery, and love could be a panacea to those fears.

In a time when news of the economy is worse every day, I think it is a good time to keep in mind the views of authors like Dahl, and to stay in touch with our child-like impulses:  to embrace the silly, to find joy in jell-o (read the Dahl article), to surprise friends and strangers with random acts of kindness and generosity, and yes, to even allow ourselves to believe that a bit of bravery will banish the “monsters” at our door.

 

the event must go on

I do believe in the adage “the show must go on.” I haven’t researched how or when that saying came into existence, but my guess is that it stems from the complete chaos that goes into getting a show on stage: so many things can (and do) go wrong that if we were to stop completely for any of them, nothing would ever happen.

I grew up backstage, and learned early on to recognize when directors, actors, stage managers and production staff possessed a certain wonderful talent: the ability to keep things moving while minimizing or fixing a problem, all the while having the performance appear seamless and professional to an audience. Problem solvers are “in,” perfectionists are “out” (well, not “out” exactly, but certainly can be maddening when flexibility is called upon).

(Aside: I’ll save a non-theater friend’s recent question of “Why must the show go on?” for a future blog. Short answer: it’s a commitment.)

I’ve been thinking about all of this since Saturday, after a little accident resulted in me sprawled in a parking lot wondering if my feet were broken…

Growing up in theater was excellent training for event management, which has been a component of my career since I was in college. This past Saturday, I was coordinating a book release party for my organization. The outdoor event involved setting up pop-up tents, rolling carts of tables and chairs from the building across the street and setting them up on a lawn, and numerous other tasks, all of which I’d plotted out and assigned to my volunteer team.

A member of the Junior ROTC was there early (they were leading the Pledge of Allegiance to open the event), and he kindly offered to help even though he was in uniform. I accepted, since my volunteer corps was struggling a bit with the pop-up tents (they are mostly retirees-one gentleman was even using his cane to help raise a tent canopy). The ROTC kid and I placed five 8-foot tables onto a cart and rolled it across the street, with him pushing and me guiding it from the front. As we rolled the cart into the parking lot, my shoe lace caught the edge of the cart, I lost my footing, and the next thing I knew I was on the ground with both my feet pinned under the cart. I don’t remember how, or how fast, I extricated myself, but I remember incredible pain and I may have been swearing.

The next thing I knew, I was standing there in a daze with the immediately attentive ROTC kid at my elbow. “Are you OK?” I couldn’t respond. “Ma’am, do you want me to call 911?” I shook my head no. “What can we do for you?” (A day later, I realized that he was asking if he and his friend could go for an ice bag or something, but my ingrained “show must go on” impulse took over; all I could think about was getting the event up and running before I went to the emergency room.)

I tenuously took a step forward, and almost passed out from the pain, but slowly hobbled to my car and leaned against it. I told him that the tables had to go to the center of the lawn, and then I opened my car door to get out the sandwich boards that were to be placed at roadside. I started to pull the top one out, but was struggling (because I shouldn’t even have been standing). As I pulled at one of them, there was a strange hissing noise and a cloud came out from under them. I realized what it was and yelled at the Jr. ROTC kid, who was still trying to help me, “Back up, back up! It’s spray glue – it will get on your uniform!” He did back away, and just kind of looked at me with his head half cocked, and I burst out laughing. “Oh my god, you must think that I am a complete crazy person.” He kind of smiled, and then made a move to take the sandwich board out of my hands, but it was sticky from the glue. He jumped back in a protective measure to spare his uniform, and I almost started laughing again. It was absurd – this kid was just trying to help – he saw me fall and get run over by a cart, then I wouldn’t even sit down after getting injured, and now I was getting spray glue all over his uniform.

I didn’t ever tell any of my volunteers that I’d been injured: I just made it through the event as best as I could, got everything put away, and then went for x-rays (nothing broken, just sprains and technicolor bruises). I’m proud that I could push through the pain and still be there to make sure the event went well, and greet city council members, and hear people’s stories related to our book, and make plans for the Girl Scouts to be more involved with our organization, and be interviewed for a video podcast. Some friends have said that it was kind of irresponsible not to go to the hospital right away, but I still feel that it was valuable for me to stay.

Before the Jr. ROTC kid left, though, he asked one more time if I was OK. I said yes, but that I was in pain. He just looked at me, and said “Yes, but you kept working.” I laughed and said “I had to.” He just nodded in agreement.

 

Girdwood, Alaska

I feel like I’m on another planet, and it is good.  After only one full day in Alaska, I can understand why some people just pull the plug on their lives in the Lower 48 and move here (I’m not quite to that point).

Yes, it is unbelievably beautiful, but it is the fact that human eccentricity is embraced and fostered here that I currently find entertaining.  My mother (my chatty traveling companion) and I were talking to our waitress yesterday at breakfast, who really opened up when she found out that we weren’t with a tour group.  The woman has lived in Alaska for nearly 30 years, and was talking about her love of the local zoos and injured animal refuges (and did a deft impression of an eagle with only one wing trying to fly).  And her love of skiing.  And juggling.  And skiing while juggling.  I, of course, was laughing so hard over my oatmeal that I was crying.  There aren’t many videos out there of this “sport,” but here is one to entertain until my next Alaskan post.

 

uh, good idea? crafting and advice…

In preparation for a move, I’m again culling my book collection (my sister is still swearing about a move she helped with in 2002 due to the abundance of books).  In recent years, I’ve instituted rules for myself before I acquire a book and grant it space on the permanent bookshelves:  it must be more useful than a book I could borrow short-term from a library; it must be a great work of art that I NEED to possess should I require immediate access to it; or it must have fairly high sentimental or aesthetic value (as an object).  Without the rules, I’d likely end up buried alive.

So, on this round, quite a few cookbooks, out-of-date home decorating and crafts manuals, and modern and juvenile novels have not made the cut.  So far I have two boxfuls to go to my local library’s book sale (anyone want some books?).

However, I decided to keep one particular crafting book, just for its sheer kitschiness (and a little bit of childhood crafting nostalgia).  To the right is an illustration from B. Kay Fraser’s “Decorative Tole Painting,” 1972.  Oh, the irony.

The other gem that I will never part with is Arlene Dahl’s “Always Ask a Man” from 1965. It is full of advice to women on beauty, manners, homemaking, and the general art of femininity.  There are literally hundreds of useful tidbits – here is a sampling of my favorite passages and quotes.

NEVER upstage a man.  Don’t top his joke, even if you have to bite your tongue to keep from doing it.  Never launch loudly into your own opinions on a subject–whether it’s petunias or politics.  Instead, draw out his ideas to which you can gracefully add your footnotes from time to time.  You may be well equipped to steal the spotlight, but most females would rather sing a duet than a solo.

Most of us agree that lipstick is an absolute necessity.  I, for one, even wear a touch a lipstick to bed.  I switch to pale peach or pink to match my sheets, blot carefully, and powder over lightly so that just a tinge of becoming natural-looking color remains.

Any girl with a modicum of common sense and tact can control a man’s actions, unless she’s out with a sex maniac.  Don’t accept the frequently proposed male theory that if he spends money taking you to dinner or the theater, you must pay him back by inviting him in for a nightcap.  He doesn’t have to be the man who stays for breakfast.

Give a girl a pair of pants and she sprawls in a chair, crosses her legs like a man, and becomes more aggressive in her speech and manner.  A girl puts a man on guard psychologically when she takes to wearing pants around the house.

There should be nothing that takes precedence in your day’s schedule over making yourself attractive and appealing for the man in your life…nothing, nothing is more important than keeping your husband happy, interested and in love with you.

Male movie stars were also consulted on their ideas of femininity.  George Hamilton said “A woman is often like a strip of film–obliterated, insignificant–until a man puts the light behind her.”  Wow.  And as a brunette, I’m proud to join the company of those who “can look like an angel while operating like the black widow spider,” or is “the vamp on the bearskin rug,” or should wear furs “of black or white mink, fabulous monkey fur, or velvety black Alaskan seal.” Um, yeah, maybe not so much for the furs.

Here is a page on the art of fan seduction, which is still appealing to me on a certain level, I have to admit!  Note one of my other favorite quotes from the book, highlighted in yellow.

Finally, this isn’t from my book collection, but I’m reminded of my favorite kitschy stitching blog, called stitchymcyarnpants.com.  Here’s another good idea regurgitated from another decade….if you haven’t seen these already, check out the link to see more wonderful ski-mask stitching projects, among many others!

 

Micro reviews

Last week, I attended five nights in a row of arts events. Here are some of my impressions and micro-reviews of these events and performances.

Wednesday, August 26 & Thursday, August 27 – Musicals (mostly)

Wednesday night was a benefit and farewell party for an actor friend, A., who has been accepted into a musical theater training program in NYC. The event, the major portion of which consisted of songs performed by A. and guests, along with some scenes, was held at The Rep in Sebastopol (the theater where I’ve stage managed most frequently over the past four years). I have always loved these kinds of events because it is an opportunity to see actors do the songs and scenes that they consider their best (or to perform requested encores). And this did not disappoint – it was highly entertaining, and a wonderful tribute to A.’s work onstage and off at the theater over the past four years.

Thursday, I saw Music Man at 6^th Street Playhouse in Santa Rosa. The leads, David Yen and Heather Lane (along with special notice for Gene Abravaya and the barbershop quartet), were very good.  The director and choreographer did an impressive job of staging and choreographing a huge cast including the requisite company of children for this show. And the audience had a great time.

Therefore, I would love to be able to give the show a big thumbs up…but there was a distracting issue that kept me from truly enjoying the production (and this is highly biased, I confess). Unfortunately the costumes, mainly for the women, were not good. The show is to take place in 1912; some women were wearing dresses that were obviously originally constructed to represent eras from the 1860s to the 1880s to 1900, and a modern-day square dance dress made an appearance in Act II. I know that not a lot of people would pay attention to the level of detail that I do for costumes and overall design. But I believe that when a theater goes to the trouble to attract talented actors, and would like to market its shows as quality entertainment, that it is a disservice to both the actors and patrons to present such a glaring inconsistency. In addition, if there had been a unifying design (color scheme, dress length, year, and the uniform presence of petticoats, among other issues), it would have strengthened the choreography, and helped to give focus when the stage was filled with such a large cast.

Friday, August 29 – Visual Arts Break

A friend of mine, Kate Burgess, is one of the exhibiting artists in the current photography exhibit Flash! A Photography Show at Plaza Arts Center in Healdsburg. I attended the show opening on Friday night and was looking forward to seeing her photos “live”; I’d only seen her work via her website prior to this particular show. For Plaza Arts, she chose four pieces of nature photography. My favorite could pass for commercial art, but upon closer inspection, one of the white blooms has a white spider ingeniously “lurking” in plain sight.

On Kate’s website, her portfolio includes sections on West Point (her alma mater) and Arlington Cemetery. Knowing her military background–and the fact that her husband is currently on active duty and headed to Iraq–makes the excellent Arlington photos even more poignant.

Saturday, August 30 & Sunday, August 31 – Two Nights of Shakespeare

On Saturday night, I saw Taming of the Shrew, which was the summer Shakespeare offering from The Rep’s Sebastopol Shakespeare Festival. Director Jennifer King chose to stage a “pirate version” of Shrew, and although the idea sounded like it could work (especially for such a blatantly sexist play), I am always wary of any themed “versions” of Shakespeare. However, this did work well, thanks to a pervading sense of fun from the production staff and cast, and the audience’s embracing of the concept (by the end, the 300-member audience was yelling “yaaar” to express approval and disapproval of plot points in the show). The competent cast, direction, set design, and costuming were all consistent and well done, but as Hortensio, Miyaka Cochrane nearly stole the show due to his superb physical acting abilities (he was all-pirate, all-the-time), and Mary Gannon Graham stood out as Kate, especially in her closing monologue.

Sunday night, I saw North Bay Shakespeare’s production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream performed at Hamilton Field Amphitheater in Novato. It was a treat to see a show performed at the historic Amphitheater  (it is the black and white photo that I use for the header of this blog) – and acoustics there are excellent. The show was fairly good, and the actors were generally strong (especially Beth Deitchman as Hermia and Ben Knoll as Bottom). However, director Hector Correa’s decision to portray Titania as a Madonna-like pop star with the fairies as attendant drag queens (with their every entrance made to Madonna songs; they even broke into a “Vogue” number at one point), made me want to bolt. But I have to give the cast credit for committing to it, and I stopped squirming in discomfort by their final appearance.

 

 

studio city weekend & pushing friends’ cds/books

Although I have lived in Northern California for over five years now, I had never been to L.A. until last year. One of my best friends, S., lives in Studio City which finally provided the impetus to visit. For this, my third visit to S.’s home, I decided to make the 6-hour drive, versus flying. Family members fretted from afar about my safety – drive to L.A.?! But it was fine. (I’ve driven in a lot of major U.S. cities, and Chicago is worse in my opinion.)

The purpose of the visit was to celebrate the fabulous Baby Z.’s first birthday. S. had rented a tent to provide shade in the back yard, and I helped S. and her mom set-up, decorate, and bake for the party. The party looked great and I think everyone had a great time, especially Baby Z., who, by the end of the party, fervently toddled about and greedily-yet-joyously sampled all her playmates’ juiceboxes.

And here’s the shameless product plug bit. I’m so proud of the accomplishments of my friend Sherry (Luchette), whom I’ve known since we were joined-at-the-hip band & theater geeks in high school. She is an accomplished jazz bassist, music educator, and has written a book titled The Flying Jazz Kittens. The book is about how music teachers can integrate jazz components and appreciation into elemenary music education, and she presents clinics and workshops throughout the U.S. on the topic. Sherry is married to well-known jazz pianist, Tamir Hendelman, who is a member of the Jeff Hamilton Trio and records and performs with some of the greatest jazz performers of our time. Tamir has just released his debut cd as the head of his own trio; the cd is titled Playground. Cd sales in Japan have been great and it will be released in the U.S. in September.

I drove home on Sunday afternoon and was kind of dreading the potentially monotonous drive back through the central valley. But I decided to embrace the afternoon heat and rolled down my windows and turned up my radio. It ended up being a gorgeous drive because it was perfectly timed to watch the approach of twilight and then a stunning sunset. After tiring of listening to things like Cowboy Junkies and Rusted Root, I grabbed a random cd and inserted it. It turned out to be Slip Dunlap’s Times Like This, which was great bluesy-rock-driving-music, but also provides me with an opportunity to push another friend’s cd here. My friend Brien Lilja was the drummer on the album and played with Slim for many years. It was an appropriate close to a weekend spent among talented musicians.

 

doctors who paint, or write, or…..

When I was an undergrad at Hiram College, I was in the art department as an art history major. I was always interested in the fact that a majority of the studio art minors were biology majors, and no one could ever really provide a substantive answer when I asked about the link between the fields. Also at that time (circa 1990), my college was in the process of instituting a new center, which is now called The Center for Literature, Medicine, and Biomedical Humanities.

In an era before either arts therapy or biomedical ethics was popular or more widely known as a field, I admit to being unfamiliar and skeptical about the link between literature and medicine (at the oh-so-sage age of 21). Even as a die-hard defender of liberal arts education, it seemed kind of random at the time. But I went to a reading of works by doctors, read by doctors, and was incredibly moved. The act of writing provided these medical practitioners with a tool to further humanize their experiences, as well as an artistic outlet for questions of how to approach loss, grief, fear, and even “miracles” from their perspective.

I read an article today that reminded me of my own pondering of the links between science and the arts, and it really brought some of these issues into focus. Titled “Art classes improve diagnostic skills of medical students,” it cites a study that showed that the medical students who studied art could diagnose their patients with greater facility than those who had not studied art. The key difference is that those with art training, even just a little bit, had a more developed skill of observation.

It suddenly made sense to me why all those biology majors were art minors: they, too, were trained as observers of the natural world, and the study of art is just observation from another perspective (more focused on the emotional and aesthetic, versus methodical). It especially makes sense when considering the interests of people who are drawn to a liberal arts education; they are people who already possess a natural sense of curiosity and a willingness to compare or challenge perspective.

And so, I step onto my soap box. Without the arts as an integral part of education and the resulting skills that such study develops, we have will have far less able doctors, scientists, teachers, lawyers, athletes…….

 

whirlwind tour, stops 3 & 4

Continued from prior post…

Stop 3: Warren, Ohio, Aug 4-7. My mom, sister and niece had joined me in Baltimore and they participated in some of the Goucher weekend festivities, and then we all drove back together to Ohio on Monday, Aug 4.

That evening, we were to visit my uncle who lives out in the countryside near where I grew up (in northern Trumbull County – land of farms and the Amish). My sister and I were both exhausted and didn’t want to go, especially after a five-hour road trip from Baltimore. But we all went, and I was so happy that I did. The purpose of the visit was to see family and to fish. My aunt and uncle have a large garden, a fenced pasture where my uncle currently keeps two small calves that he will either have butchered or sell, and a well-stocked pond. My uncle reminds me of my grandfather as I knew him: gentle, patient, observant, and in tune with the ecosystem of his land.

I had never fished. My uncle just kept making the rounds, baiting everyone’s hooks (I quickly became brave enough to do it myself with worms, but the maggots still kind of grossed me out), and I sat and watched the surface of the pond. It turned out to be the best way to relax after nearly five days of non-stop socializing and travel. We were there before dusk, and stayed until the sun dropped below the horizon. I’ve been realizing lately how much I miss the land and space of my childhood, and being closer to nature in general. This was a great fix: sitting around a pond, talking and learning about fishing, listening to the crickets, watching the birds and bats, and watching the sun set over the fields. I caught two small blue gills and a 21” catfish, which were all thrown back…for now. Until my uncle and aunt host their next fish fry.

The remainder of my Ohio visit included a birthday excursion (my entire family is Leo) to see the Broadway touring show of Mamma Mia (which I wrote about previously), a party that I hosted for my local friends, and cleaning out my mother’s garage!

It was great to see old friends on Wednesday night: Chris, Karyn & their daughter Emma (who is 3 and I met for the first time); Becky, Doug & their kids; Barb, Melinda, Lana, Eric, and Christine. It is always difficult to find the time to see friends when I am in Ohio, so I was especially grateful that so many of them made the effort to drive in on a weeknight from Cleveland and Akron.

My sister and I planned to tag-team my mom, and on Thursday the three of us cleaned out her garage, the last “problem area” in her home that is currently up for sale. It was a Herculean task, but one day of hard work and trips to recycling and Goodwill gave my mom a garage with double the space and a clutter-free world. She recently confessed, giddily, that she left her garage door open the other day while she was at home and was not ashamed.

My visit ended with my 7-year-old niece yelling out the car window, as they drove away that evening, “Stay here forever; don’t leave” over and over again. It is difficult to part ways at times.

Stop 4: New York City & Noroton Heights, CT, Aug 8-10. I had an early-morning flight to NYC on Friday. I hadn’t been back to New York since M. and I briefly lived outside of the city two and a half years ago (a 10-week sublet in Hastings-on-Hudson, before we decided to move back to California where all our furniture and belongings still lived). I dropped off my luggage at my friend C.’s office near Astor Place, and hit the pavement.

I am always happy to just roam around the city, walking, and getting on and off the subway. I walked up Broadway, stopped at Strand Books (obligatory), and then headed to museum mile with the idea that I visit at least one museum. I hadn’t been to the Guggenheim in a long time, but upon seeing the mass of people standing in line inside, I quickly retreated and continued my walk up 5th Ave.

The National Academy Museum was currently hosting their 183rd Annual: An Invitational Exhibition of Contemporary American Art. Originally the home of a railroad magnate, this museum is more intimate in scale and, with my background in American art history, I have always enjoyed my visits there. The galleries are on the 2nd and 4th floors and consist of a series of small and large rooms, which I primarily had to myself. My favorite piece was “Self Portrait with Men in Hats 2007” (below) by Julie Heffernan, and seeing it was worth the visit.

I met my friend M.C. that evening for dinner. He has an amazing rent-controlled apartment in Hell’s Kitchen, complete with views of the mid-town skyline. M. is a member of my Goucher class who is successfully building a career in the greening of the arts (read this recent article he wrote on the greening of Broadway). He, his friend J. and I shared a great bottle of wine and small plates at Xai Xai, a South-African wine bar.

On Saturday, I spent a wonderful day with my friends C. & T. just kicking around in CT (it was a much-needed low-key day!). T. cooked for us in the evening; he grilled clams and halibut, seasoned with fresh herbs from their garden, and it was phenomenal. We have always bonded over our mutual love of cheese and wine, and our meals together are always memorable, delicious, and inevitably end with a few-too-many empty wine bottles.

Sunday morning was equally fabulous: coffee, bagels, and the Sunday Times on the deck, in the company of wonderful friends.

And then I came home.

 

whirlwind tour, stops 1 & 2

I recently returned home after an 11-day whirlwind tour of friends and family. Here are some of my impressions from that trip…hmmm, many of them involve food. When I travel, I tend to write down what I eat if I don’t have time to journal, and that triggers memories of who I was with, how I was feeling, and the general ambience of the place.

Stop 1: Madison, WI, July 31-Aug 1. My friends J. & B. welcomed their first baby this summer. This stop on the tour was chance to see some of my best friends and meet beautiful T., my newest “niece” (J. and I are “sisters” – personification of the adage “friends are the family you choose for yourself”). I’ve been to Madison before, and love the beauty of the city – the capitol, the farmer’s markets and interesting shops, the college town – but this visit was all about meeting T. and spending time with her parents. We stayed in and had great pizza and local beer, talked, and took turns holding and kissing T. I was sad to leave after only one day, and look forward to spending a longer weekend with them in Madison again soon.

Interesting note: When I stopped at a chain coffee shop on my way into Madison, I noticed that there were no reduced-fat pastries or healthy food options, which was kind of surprising for our era, even though WI has not exactly been high on the “fit” population list. This was also true in the Milwaukee airport, as well as in Baltimore. After living in CA, I’ve gotten spoiled by not having to search very far for healthy food.

Stop 2: Baltimore/Towson, MD, Aug 1-4. For the last three summers, I’ve spent two weeks at Goucher College for an intensive course for my Master’s degree in Arts Administration. The fourth summer is usually major paper defense and graduation – and all members of my class graduated except me. I took a leave of absence and chose to work on my paper this year instead, but couldn’t imagine not being there as my classmates, whom I’ve become bonded to, finish their degrees.

As the only person who lives locally, my classmate N. has hosted a crab feed for our class the past three years, and this year was the biggest yet because everyone’s family was along. N. and her fiancé went over the top and were hosts extraordinaire. They cooked all the food, ordered two bushels of crabs, rented a tent for the back yard and made everyone, from nieces to parents to children to significant others, feel welcome. Any party where you can dump your food on the table and have at it with a mallet and your bare hands is a good party. And this was the first year that we were instructed to drink Natty Boh (National Bohemian) beer with our crabs – a Baltimore staple.

It was strange to part ways with my classmates knowing that it is not likely that we will all be together again in one place (the ten of us are from California, Washington, Florida, Texas, Ohio, New York, Maryland, and Barbados). But many of us hope to meet at the Americans for the Arts national conference in Seattle next year, which would be a happy reunion.

Continued in next post, whirlwind tour, stops 3 & 4. And read here for minor adventures in rental cars during stops 1 & 2.