Southern Love, Without Apologies.

I was born in Richmond, a city in the South, the capital of Virginia. I lived in a few other places including in the Midwest before eventually making my way back to RVA, where I’ve lived for the majority of my life. I take pride in being from the South, in the same way that anyone takes pride in being from their region. For me, I think living in the South is wonderful, and what’s more, I think Richmond is an amazing city.

There’s no getting around a fact though: 153 years ago the American Civil War was declared, with the last shot was fired four years later in June of 1865. Richmond served as one of two capitals, the first being Montgomery, Alabama.

Though it’s been 149 years since the last shot was fired, sometimes it feels as though we are only decades beyond the beginnings of Reconstruction. I often read travel articles about Richmond (because we all like to hear good things about ourselves,) and frequently find the first sentence goes something like this, “Coming out of the shadow of its past as the Capital of the Confederacy, Richmond is well on its to becoming a destination.” Don't believe me? It’s as though we’ve only just rebuilt the city after the retreating Confederate army burned it. One doesn’t read articles about Chicago that start off with, “Rising from the ashes of the Great Chicago Fire, this city is now a place to not to be missed!” Of course you don’t! Because it would be absurd to write about an event that took place in 1871 as though it happened in the last 50 years.

Like any place that has historical significance or interest, history plays a role in encouraging tourism. We tell people that if they’re a fan American history or have a particular interest in the American Civil War, there is no better place to be in the South because Virginia has it all: Battlefields, the White House of the Confederacy, birthplaces of famous officers, burial sites and cemeteries, retirement camps, ruins, chapels, the site of the end of the war, museums galore, and historical markers every 10 feet. There is so much history here! I love history! And for the same reason I like going to Philadelphia, Washington DC, New York, etc., because they all have something interesting to teach. And I think that’s where many miss the mark when they think about Richmond, Virginia, and the South.

There’s a condescending attitude that we are interesting despite our history, not because of our history. Despite our history, we are a destination, a good place to visit or to live. Despite.

I was interviewing one of my favorite musicians a few years ago for a local news site. The singer happens to be from New England. I received the following instruction from the person who assigned the interview to me: Make the article relevant to Richmond; ask about what it’s like to play in Richmond, what makes it different or special. So I asked the singer, and his answer was more than a little awkward, and he stumbled as he tried to come up with an answer. “Well you know, it’s great being in the South, Capital of the Confederacy and all…” And inwardly, I sighed.

The South is more than the former Confederate States of America, but we can take pride in it being a part of our history, a part of what makes this place so great. Living in the South or being Southern is not something one needs be ashamed of.

There’s an old regional joke that refers to Northern Virginia as Southern Maryland, and it’s not because of how they vote or how much money they have. It’s because sometimes it seems like Northern Virginia would rather not be associated with the South. A simple Google search will you this is not a minority opinion; a lot of people put a large wedge of separation between Northern Virginia and the rest of the state. But then that idea started making its way down interstate 95: Towns like Stafford and Fredericksburg were becoming “less Southern.” The idea is starting to permeate Richmond now and I’ve found is common around “moved-here’s.” I had a person who moved here a few years ago say to me, “We’re not really that Southern.” Of course we are! But there’s an inherent sense of shame for being from or living in the South that seems to have held on for the last 150-ish years, and leaves me disappointed.

Like so many things, the South is stereotyped, making us one extreme or another. I don’t need to outline the stereotypical Southerner, but needless to say,  “reality” shows like “Honey Boo-Boo,” “Duck Dynasty,” and “Buckwild” are not documentaries. They no more representative of Southern life than “Real Housewives of New Jersey” or “Jersey Shore” are of New Jersey. I think in trying to avoid being seen as a stereotypical Southerner, people go the opposite, extreme direction, rejecting much of the South when possible, and that includes an interest in the local history.

Recently, Mom and I were standing on the porch of the Confederate Memorial Chapel at the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts. The museum stands on the grounds of the former Confederate Soldiers' Home.

I had toured the building with my parents and grandparents. The place is beautiful, not to mention pretty neat when you pair the place with old pictures and a diorama of the camp. There’s a lot of history. Mom looked over at me and said, “I wish there was a way to be interested in history without the feeling like one needs to apologize.” I knew what she meant. There was an air of defiance in the tour guide’s voice as he explained the different artifacts and displays, “It’s not too popular these days to--” was said multiple times when referencing the celebration of history. Being a Southern history enthusiast seems to require a balance between justifying your interests and apologizing for them, because otherwise people will think you’re one of those Southern history enthusiasts. You know the ones that I mean--the ones who use the Stars and Bars as a poorly disguised code for racism or the Flaggers who have hoisted a historically inaccurate flag over 95 outside of Richmond.

Therein lies the problem: Because so many people associate the history of the South with the Confederacy and the terrible things that went with it (slavery, destruction of families, farms, towns, economies, deaths and injuries of over a million, ultimately the assassination of a sitting President, tell me where to stop…) and later racists or people who do inflammatory things, one can feel the need to disassociate themselves from the South and even disparage it.

I know that I had multiple ancestors who fought in the Civil War, on both sides, including my great-great-great-great grandfather Williams Evans Davis Sr., who is buried in Hollywood Cemetery.

We hope to have a headstone placed at his unmarked grave with his name, ranking, and dates of birth and death.

I take pride in his sacrifices because I know that any human being doesn’t take lightly the act of taking up arms, going to war, and killing others. Everyone knows the conditions were appalling, the environment, unforgiving, and the treatments available to those injured, nothing short of horrifying. Why should I feel any amount of shame for having him on my family tree? Because he was on the wrong side of a war that was fought over slavery, under the guise of states rights? Because if that’s the case, then the natural conclusion is anyone with roots in the South should be ashamed of their ancestors and history--and I say, no, that’s not okay.

It is possible to have an interest in the history of the South without being a supporter of all the negative things associated with the Confederacy; therefore there is no need to be ashamed.

Being from the South does not require an apology, and neither does loving it. It’s a balancing act and requires compromise, an open and reasonable mind, and compassion for your fellow man. Carpetbaggers and people from the North alike can leave their baggage at the door when they’re here, and Southerners, you can too.

Come to the South if you’re want to experience a lifestyle of hospitality and good manners. Speaking for Virginia, come for days on lazy rivers and rapid ones alike. Visit museums with exhibits that’ll only make one east coast appearance--and it’s not in New York or Washington! Enjoy amazing food from nationally recognized restaurants and chefs, and great wineries and breweries scattered all across the Commonwealth. Take in festivals for everything you can imagine, great performances and concerts, local arts and music scenes, roadside attractions, natural wonders, theme parks, and fairs. Visit local artisans, farmers, craftsmen, and cooks who sell their wares in general stores and farmer’s markets. And yes, take in the history. Because we have plenty of it! From the tribes that hunted and gathered on the land, to the first successful American settlement, to the American Revolution, to the American Civil War, to civil rights, to well beyond. We are Southern, we are proud, we love our home, and we look forward to sharing it with you.

Les Misérables

A heads up, this is not necessarily a review. I talk about what I want to talk about, and it includes commentary that compares previous performances and recordings, includes personal anecdotes, and a little bit of this and that. In other words, it's long. It's funny too, but ya know, if you want something short and sweet, you best head over to Jessi's much more reasonably sized review on Richmond.com.


Wednesday night Christmas 2012 came to a close. Yep. My family got to enjoy our group Christmas present: Tickets to see Les Misérables at Landmark Theater.

Les Mis is sort of the family musical. I know I've seen it at least 5 or 6 times. It was the first show I've ever seen—it was at the Roanoke Coliseum when I was 7 years old. I remember being completely appalled by my mother and father's tearful display throughout the show. I was so embarrassed—my parents crying! The shame, the shame! Of course it turned out everyone else had been crying too. On the way out of the show, a good ole boy in his formal flannel and very best denim turned to his also dungaree'd friend and said in a very Southern Virginia accent, "Well there might have been a dry eye in the house, but it sure as hell wasn't mine." As it turned out, when I got older I joined the crying masses, although I'm pretty sure my mom still cries way more than me.

Love you, Mom.

If you don't know the story of Les Mis you can go to Wikipedia and read the plot. Go ahead. I'll wait.

Or don't. I don't particularly care either way; just know that at no point am I going to summarize it for you in this post.

We really enjoyed ourselves—it was once again a beautiful, moving experience. Each company's interpretation is obviously going to be different, as are the strengths and weaknesses of the individual actors. That's what I actually love about seeing a show again and again—it's going to be different in one way or another.

In past shows, Jean Valjean has been performed by actors who tried way too hard to emulate Colm Wilkinson. Wilkinson, whose performance of our tragic hero was fantastically overwrought, is difficult to imitate well, but I've certainly seen it done.

Skip to the :30 mark for a sample of his work.

I'll give you all a moment to collect yourselves.

In this case Wednesday night's Valjean, portrayed by the surprisingly young Peter Lockyer, there was no hint of the specter of Wilkinson hanging over his performance. It was so refreshing seeing an actor's take on a character, instead of an actor's take on another's actor's interpretation. His performance was, more anything humble, the confidence and strength of his character being conveyed as a gradual, natural build, which I quite liked. The humble approach only failed to satisfy when he sang simultaneously with Javert, during which his vocals were lost.

Andrew Varela, who previously played Jean Valjean for 5 years, gave a stunning performance as Inspector Javert. He was flawless, simply put. "Stars" is among one of my favorite songs, and it's one of the few times in my life I wish I were a man, just so I could sing this song. The other times involve camping.

There's a reason why Russell Crowe didn't get nominated for a Golden Globe or an Oscar for his role in the film version of Les Mis: He was unremarkable as a singer, which was most apparent during "Stars." And since I saw the movie I've carried the injury Crowe so carelessly inflicted on me. Enter Valera, the Neosporin to my Russell Crowe wound. And it was more than just "Stars." His commanding performance made him the standout performer in this production.

Alright, honest Oprah time, I freaking love Enjolras. Seriously, I love that character. Even though I can't pronounce his name. It doesn’t matter which production we're talking about, I love him. I have never seen a bad Enjolras. This performance was no exception. Jason Forbach's Enjolras was charismatic, passionate, and hauntingly beautiful.

The Thénardiers, performed by Tom Gulan and Shawna M. Hamic, were solid. Both actors were very comfortable in their comedic roles. Probably the biggest laugh of the show was when Mme Thénardier dropped a silver tray she'd been attempting to make off with. I was particularly glad to see they didn't employ a Cockney accent. I don't really get why others make that acting choice, but it doesn't add anything, IMHO. Also worth nothing, Gulan did a really good job with "Dog Eat Dog." It's really easy to go off the deep end with character acting, and he struck a good balance. "Dog Eat Dog" was one of the songs cut from the film version—something that was pretty disappointing for me.

I not-so-secretly long to play Mme Thénardier, one of those few roles in which a big girl (such as me) can flourish. I'm not exactly sure why the role's always played by a big lady (except for Helena Bonham-Carter, although I'm not really sure why she played Mme Thénardier either.) It doesn’t make sense from a historical standpoint. A poor person isn't going to be fat. It isn't logical. But there's no logic at work here. No, Mme Thénardier is fat because fat people are HILARIOUS. Ending that rant, here.

Not everything was peachy keen though. Devin Ilaw's approach to Marius was a little too meek and boyish for me, and as a result he seemed like the youngest adult in the cast. But maybe I'm biased. I mean after all I am a staunch Nick Jonas as Marius fan.

Lol, j/k. Seriously? They cast him as Marius?? SERIOUSLY?! No. Gtfo, kid. Where's Michael Ball?

Jokes aside, it was obvious how much Ilaw has poured into "Empty Chairs and Empty Tables." The desperation and mourning in his voice brought me to tears.

The only real complaint I have will probably cause anyone who's still reading this far calling me a prude. The graphic sexual miming was a bit much. And I double checked with my friend Jessi, this isn't just me—it was GRAPHIC. I know I'm an adult, but it was awkward to the point of distracting seeing a prostitute mime oral sex. I pretty much missed half of Mme Thénardier's rant about her husband because there were two people in the "balcony" of the tavern set who were having sex, complete with vigorous thrusting motions as her legs were up over her head. Only, of course, to be immediately followed by a change of positions with him going at her from behind as she gave appropriate facial expressions to convey her ecstasy. It was awkward, and I don't care if you lot think I'm a complete prude for saying so. So maybe a little less thrusting next time?

A pretty big change that took some getting used to on my part was the set. In the past, I've seen it performed on a rotating stage; a piece that I'm guessing was expensive, cumbersome, and probably limited which theaters could host the show. Now the show is being done a traditional stage floor. And it's fine, it works for the most part. The only time I think something was lost was during scenes at the barricade. Seeing Enjolras's body draped over the front of the barricade, or seeing Gavroche's final moments, taunting his enemies, even as he dies; the impact of the modified versions of these moments just wasn't as meaningful.

Something that always nags me about the show is the hidden message. Consider who dies and who suffers the most. Good people, for the most part. Even Javert is good, even if he's the antagonist—he's just doing his duty. But then look at the Thénardiers, who abuse Cosette, con their customers, steal from everyone—including from the dead and dying. And they're unapologetic about it. Yet at the end of the show, they are able to successfully parley their way into society, and arguably, (except where love is concerned) end up on top. The innocents suffer while the corrupt win. That's a pretty bleak ending. I guess it's realistic too, when you think about it.

And on that note…

Even I Have My Limits: Don't Invite Me to Any "Tasteful" Toy Parties.

If you know me in real life, you know I'm a fairly open person and that it takes a lot to embarrass me. I mean a lot. My mother has long since lost her ability to embarrass me by threatening to sing the Hokey Pokey in the middle of Wal-Mart. (I'd probably join in at this stage in my life and lead the crowd in a mass Hokey-Pokeying.) The truth is that there are very few words that offend me or subjects that are otherwise off limits, be you friend, family, or a complete God damn stranger. That said there is one topic that I can say categorically makes me massively, and I mean MASSIVELY uncomfortable.

They call them tasteful, but I think taste is a relative thing. I don't get these parties that are cleverly named so you'll feel comfortable purchasing "intimate items" while sitting next to your closest friends and family members. First of all, I don't want to know what you're buying. Second of all, I don't want you to know what I'm buying. Third of all, OMG THAT'S MY MOM, SHE CAN'T KNOW THAT I WOULD EVEN CONSIDER BUYING SOMETHING LIKE THIS.

Kidding.

It's the damnedest thing; I have no idea why anyone would participate in such an activity. What happened to going in ALONE to a shop and buying what you want in the comfort of anonymity (while secretly checking out what strangers are buying and either being horrified/curious/confused/titillated/laughing hysterically on the inside)???


No. There are people—usually women with a contingency of gay men—who invite their friends and FAMILY to their house where toys, accessories, novelties, and other product are exhibited. And then people buy these products. They do demos. Some people even test-run these products—yet the hosts don't have the courtesy to offer brain bleach at these parties, as I understand it, which is perhaps a crime against humanity. They taste these products, "You know I love licorice. And I love getting frisky. Maybe they're onto something with this licorice flavored whip!" They discuss the offerings as though they were considering buying a new knickknack, "Oh look honey, it's shaped like a woodland creature!" (THINGS THUMPER WAS NEVER INTENDED FOR, I MIGHT ADD.)

What gets me is there is a potential for someone to see what you've bought and to later on down the road ask, "How are you enjoying your ____________?" Oh my God. NO! No, no, no. I mean that's truly horrifying, and I'm pretty sure if someone I knew did ask me that I'd have a coronary.

And I'm not a prude. I want to make that clear; I'm not someone who faints at a dirty joke or who can't have an open discussion about sexuality. I'm sex positive; everyone should do their thing in a safe, legal, consensual manner, challenging their boundaries, having fun, etc. And the truth is I'm probably my friends' most offensively frank friend—and that group's not a bunch of delicate flowers either. No. I just have a comfort zone and that comfort zone does not include my mother or even bestest best friend in the whole wide world knowing if I bought a "massager" or not.