Hope Propels the Kellys

Hope Propels the Kellys

Charlotte’s Run, which begins on April 10 at 10 AM at the Granite Grill in Braintree,(cq)  is all because of Charlotte Rose Kelly. But it is not for her. It’s to raise money to annihilate a disease that this brave but tired four-year-old has been battling for nearly two years. Charlotte was two-and-a half, when five doctors walked into a room at Children’s Hospital Boston and gave her parents, Patrice and Greg Kelly (cq) the incomprehensible news that their beautiful little girl had Stage IV Neuroblastoma, (cq) a rare and deadly form of childhood cancer...

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Appreciating our differences

Kristen Franks loves her sister Jacqueline. She loves her wit and her compassion and her work ethic and her tenacity.

She loves that Jacqueline has a job where she is valued and appreciated, and that the people she works with respect and admire her.

Kristen's love for Jacqueline is full of quiet pride. See all that she is. All that she does. See how people like her. See how easy she is to like. This is what her eyes say.

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Memo to the kids: Call home

 Memo to the kids: Call home

It was magical, the old telephone. It rang and you raced to it and picked it up and said ``hello?'' and someone - a friend, a neighbor, sometimes someone far away in another state - said ``hello'' back. And you got excited, hearing a certain voice, thrilled and surprised when it was your best friend calling, or a boy you just met, because the phone ringing was like a knock on a door or a gift-wrapped present. Always a mystery.

It was practical, too. ``I lost my homework page. Can you read me the questions?'' ``Want to go to the movies on Saturday?'' ``My mother said she'd pick us up after play practice tomorrow.'' And bingo, just like that, schedules were confirmed and problems solved.

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Now, that's real entertainment!

The Boston Globe

Beverly Beckham

I took my granddaughter Lucy to Wheelock Family Theatre's production of ``Annie'' last Sunday. Forty minutes from my house, and I'd never been there before. I'd never been to Riverside Theatre Works in Hyde Park, either, which is just 15 minutes from my door, until my daughter Julie became managing director there, two years ago.

How had I overlooked these places? I used to take my children to plays on the South Shore and in Boston. Why didn't I know about these other places?

What amazed me about Wheelock's production of ``Annie'' is what always amazes me about live performances: They never go out of style. A good story is always a good story, and what worked in ancient Greece - Give `em the old, razzle dazzle - still works all these centuries later. Good acting, good singing, good dancing, and an audience is mesmerized.

Lucy is 7 and definitely a good audience. She is obsessed with ``Annie.'' She knows the words to every song. She has the CD. She's seen the movie a million times.

Still, I wondered how a simple stage ``Annie'' would compete with the loud, bold, overly dramatic, over-the-top movie version, which she loves.

It did not compete. It stood on its own. Real people on a real stage talking and laughing and singing and dancing, plus a real dog playing Sandy brought the house down.

The children in the audience, like all kids today, have access to TVs and DVD players and computers. Instant entertainment is at their fingertips. So this very old-fashioned, intermission-in-the-middle humble fare should not have wowed them.

But it did. A medium as old as knights and chariots still works its magic.

Wheelock Family Theatre and Riverside Theatre Works and the Turtle Lane Playhouse and Boston Playwrights' Theatre, all small theaters, are all celebrating their 30th seasons. This is a testament not just to entrepreneurship and ingenuity, but to the hard work of many.

It is also a tribute to the medium itself, because we can get from Netflix and On Demand almost everything that these theaters offer. We can order ``Scrooge, the Musical'' and ``Godspell'' and ``A Child's Christmas in Wales.'' Plus we can listen to any kind of music any time we want. No one needs to go out to be entertained.

But still we do. Because what we don't get from film or recorded sound is the experience of seeing and hearing something performed live.

A live performance is like an apple plucked from a tree. It can be fresh and delicious, and if you take a second apple from the same tree, it may be fresh and delicious, too. But not identical. It's not ever the same.

It can be bitter, too. Or mealy. Or wormy. No guarantees.

Movies, TV, radio, the rest of our entertainment is far more predictable. It comes packaged. It's apples cut up and processed and sealed and sold in cellophane. It's applesauce in little cups. Not bad. Sometimes good. But never unique.

It's a struggle to lure people off their couches and out of their homes when it's cold and dark. But if you're sick of Charlie Sheen, consider this: Riverside Theatre Works is presenting ``Scrooge: The Musical'' Dec. 10 to 19. ``Annie'' will be featured at Wheelock Family Theatre until Nov 21. Turtle Lane Playhouse is hosting ``Godspell'' Nov. 26 through Dec. 30. And Boston Playwrights' Theatre ``Two Wives in India'' will run until Nov 21.

Then consider this song from ``Avenue Q.''

``There is life outside your apartment.

I know it's hard to conceive.

But there's life outside your apartment.

And you're only gonna see if you leave.''

Stars align, waking a long-ago sadness

Sometimes it catches up with you. That's what my husband said.

And I said that's nuts. It's been 39 years. No one cries over something that happened 39 years ago.

The stars have aligned, that's all. It's 1971. The autumn light is dazzling. It's cool in the morning, but warm late in the day. There's a hum in the air of cars and trucks and school buses. I swear, if I turned on TV and saw Peggy Lipton in ``The Mod Squad,'' I would not be surprised.

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Walking not for a cure, but to shine a light

Her name was Judy. She had thick, dark hair, which she pulled into a pony tail, and though I coveted that pony tail (my hair was curly and short) and though we were the same age - 8 or 9 when we met, 12 the last time I saw her - we weren't ever friends.

She had braces on her legs, big metal ones, and her gait was slow and labored, and I wanted to ask her why. What happened? Did you have polio? Because polio was the only illness I knew about.

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Walking not for a cure, but to shine a light

Walking not for a cure, but to shine a light

Her name was Judy. She had thick, dark hair, which she pulled into a pony tail, and though I coveted that pony tail (my hair was curly and short) and though we were the same age - 8 or 9 when we met, 12 the last time I saw her - we weren't ever friends.

She had braces on her legs, big metal ones, and her gait was slow and labored, and I wanted to ask her why. What happened? Did you have polio? Because polio was the only illness I knew about.

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In a forgotten photo, a mother's happy face

In a forgotten photo, a mother's happy face

I had two mothers. That's what I've long thought.

The first was young and spry and pretty and hip. She sang and she danced and she loved old movies and show tunes and big hats and Johnny Carson.

The other mother was head-injured and infirm. A fall made her old. A fall took away all her prettiness. Before she fell, my mother was one person. After she fell, she was another. I knew both, I loved both, so I thought I knew her.

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A Love Stronger Than Witches' Brew

A Love Stronger Than Witches' Brew

It isn’t perfect. But Adam thinks it is.

My 6-year-old grandson likes the Halloween book we made together so much that he's asked me to come to his school and read it to his first-grade class. "It's awesome, Mimi!" he insists.

The book is called I Love You More Than, and I wrote the words and he chose the pictures and we put them together on kodakgallery.com (because photo books were 25 percent off that day). But…

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She met the Cookie Monster, and found it was she

I ate the kids' cookies.

My neighbor, Katherine, who lives across the street and bakes all the time, yummy things like cakes layered with raspberries and cakes dripping with chocolate, put two freshly baked chocolate chip cookies in two baggies last Tuesday, then handed them to me because it was nearly 5 p.m. and too close to dinner time for cookies. That's what the children's mothers repeated three times before they left their daughters with me: ``Don't feed them anything, Mimi. Not even if they beg. It will spoil their dinner.''

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A Childhood Wish Come True

A Childhood Wish Come True

This is what I prayed for, for as long as I can remember, since first grade, all the way through third and fifth and eighth, and even when I was in high school: a brother or a sister. I didn’t care.

Please, God, please, I begged every Sunday in church and every time I made a novena. Please, God, please, I wished on every birthday candle, on every first star and on every dandelion gone to seed.I had faith. I had patience. Plus, I knew all the tricks: The wishbone. The fortune cookie…

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