I mean, I’m pretty sure that it is. I imagine that if I were playing football (which has never actually occurred), my imaginary coach would put an imaginary finger in my face and say something inspiring like “Get your head in the game!” 

Either that, or if I were talking to Cher (which actually has happened) she might just slap me, toss her luxurious locks over a shoulder and yell something pithy like “Schnap out of it!” 

Since neither of those scenarios has actually taken place, I’ve had to take a look in the mirror and assess the situation, and it’s not a pretty sight. I’m still surrounded by crates and boxes housing the flotsam and jetsam of my once-glorious past, and debating if I should even bother unpacking (what’s left of) my precious stuff at all. 

To be honest, I’ve been a little too busy racing to and fro, fulfilling my duties for the award-winning River Reporter, but my head has absolutely not been in the game. So both my imaginary coach and imaginary friend Cher LaPiere (yes, she was born with two names, just like us mere mortals) are correct. I need to snap out of it.

All this to say that I’m sure I owe apologies to everyone I’ve come into contact with (yep, even my poor dog) over the past week or three, because I’m in a fog, in a funk and probably in over my head. 

To add insult to injury, I’ve managed to give myself a slight (and by “slight” I mean “excruciating”) case of whiplash, but that’s another story for another time. 

Suffice it to say that all of the above has impacted my normally jovial mood (you can stop laughing now), so I’ve been distracted, disjointed and a little bit inattentive. This is entirely unfair to the talented musicians I’ve encountered, the new plays I’ve seen and the poetry I’ve heard recited, none of which has inspired yours truly this past week, but (I’m just guessing here) maybe it’s me. 

Putting all whining aside for a minute, I managed to get out last Thursday to catch a Bethel Lakeside Music (BLM) concert dubbed “Highway Hootenanny”—which I assumed was the name of a band, but for something completely different (can you smell the sarcasm?) I was mistaken. 

BLM talent coordinator (my words, not hers) Debbie Fisher-Palmarini was happy to share that a “highway hootenanny” is “not a standard formal term,” but it combines a road or highway with a hootenanny, which is a “lively, informal gathering where people play folk music and sing together.”

When the words are used in conjunction, it playfully suggests a “roadside jam session,” which fits the bill nicely, since BLM is always roadside, rain or shine, and jammin’ all summer long through September 3.

The performers, “alternative indie artist” Ellie Fern and singer-songwriter Charles Ellsworth, were both new to Sullivan County audiences, and with good reason.

“To celebrate the 10th anniversary of the outdoor music series, we decided to bring in [some] new talent.” Fisher-Palmarini explained. “Based on audience feedback, we’ve had about a 90 percent return of local talent over the years, so we changed it up, providing an opportunity to host new-to-us groups this season, like the Swing Shift Orchestra, along with a Woodstock tribute band and a salute to the ‘70s.”

I was informed that “music curators” (their words, not mine) David Rosenberg, Fisher-Palmarini and Moreen Lerner are “music fans first” and base the schedule on crowd response and “random submissions”—which sounds like a cool new band name to me.

I was distracted of course, and heavy rains pelted overhead, but the BLM series moves into (under?) the Firefighters Pavilion in Keuneonga Lake during inclement weather, and while the downpour kept some folks away, both musicians were great…but Mother Nature stole the show. 

A (double) rainbow unlike any I’ve ever seen emerged from the clouds and as the audience gasped along with me and my dog. Entertainers Fern and Ellsworth (not a law firm, but sounds just like one) also paused to take it all in.

Phones (and cameras) in hand, we oohed and ahhed as one, having a shared experience that will last a lifetime.

Sorry, Ellie, sorry Charlie (IYKYK), but I’ll have to catch you both on the flip side. I took pictures, I made notes, but my head simply wasn’t in the game.

As part of the Delaware Valley Arts Alliance (DVAA) 50th anniversary season, last Saturday’s presentation, titled “Too Stupid to Stop,” was composed of a series of “performance pieces” featuring poetry readings, short theatrical vignettes and a radio play, replete with sound effects played live on stage. If that sounds like a lot to unpack in one evening, I’d venture to say that it was.

By now, we all know that I was unfocused and somewhat mentally sidelined (by my personal trials and tribulations), so I’d venture to say that my assessment of the evening is colored by those extenuating circumstances. As a result, some of the material went over my (preoccupied) head. And since the expression “over my head” is often defined as “difficult to take in” or “strange to understand,” I’ll stand by it, and let the chips fall where they may.

As performed by a talented cast of players, (John Back, Aleta Fondilier, James Sullivan, Cass Collins, Carol Roig and Jan Trevor) the seven (uh huh) unrelated mini-plays, were accompanied by stage directions provided by Richard Cardillo, and were a bit of a mash-up. As directed by John Vega, the “scenes” were peppered with interstitial poems. Mildly confused by some of the material, I kinda, sorta felt that the presentation lacked focus and might have benefitted from a bit of editing. 

“Maybe it’s me,” I mused, when I arrived at my final destination (aka “home”). Some of it worked, some of it didn’t and some of it was (IMHO) a bit muddied. But that’s always the chance one takes when presenting new work, and I applaud the efforts of all involved, including playwrights Joel Greenhouse, Janet Noble, Carol Roig and Ron Littke. 

Promising myself to be more attentive and less distracted moving forward, I’ll unpack something (anything) to make my life (and mind) less cluttered as the days pass, with the hope that I don’t allow my personal life to interfere with my humble opinion about this, that and the other thing. Plenty of folks are still talking about the rainbow, though, so I know that it’s not just me. 

Fun Fact: Cher no longer has a last name. In 1979, she legally changed her name to just Cher (it’s called a mononym) dropping her surname (Sarkisian), her stepfather’s (LaPierre) and the last names from her marriages to Sonny Bono and Gregg Allman.