So! In polite, clinical language: The Krempels Center provides educational, therapeutic and recreational activities for people living with traumatic brain injury. Participants are called “members,” rather than “patients” or “clients,” and the emphasis is always on members helping each other to heal, with the support of trained clinicians and UNH interns. The organization relies on a variety of donations and sponsorships to maintain and develop its mission.

In human terms: The Krempels Center is a space filled with love, energy, curiosity, passion, and the warmest spirit of community I have experienced in a long, long time. (And I’m a theatre person, so I’ve been around a lot of “love fests”–believe me, this was the biggest!) Founded by David Krempels in 1995, during his recovery from a severe brain injury sustained in a harrowing car accident, the Krempels Center provides a place for people to go when their injury has isolated them. This was a compelling part of David’s own story (which I was honored to hear from the man himself that day!). He wanted to help fight the loneliness and loss of hope that he experienced himself as a result of his injury. That depression he described arises from the physical injury and further complicates the brain’s attempt to heal. David’s work certainly aided his own healing–he is the quietly charismatic force that energizes the staff and membership at Krempels. Everywhere he went during the course of the day, he gently interacted with members and they reacted like flowers in the sun. Although he tries to downplay the attention showered on him, and constantly affirms to each member that they are the heart of the operation, no one can deny that the love he inspires is well-deserved. Just sitting near him feels great!

But the membership definitely follow his lead, even when he’s not around. The group activities at Krempels, whether specifically therapeutic or more casually recreational, all help a person living with a brain injury to heal by stimulating their ideas, their emotions, and their bodies in a socially-supportive environment. Members talk to one another throughout the day, notice and congratulate each other on their progress, create art projects together, and have the chance to go on group outings in the nearby community. This is a place to learn to accept who you are in this moment, and also to envision and pursue growth.

Krempels is also a place of difficult stories. Members I met last week had suffered catastrophic falls, strokes, vehicular collisions, and allergic reactions that caused the brain to swell. Some members’ injuries baffled their doctors and remained mysterious. As one member with a marked difficulty finding words (aphasia) said, “It goes. But then you just go.”

I can’t describe the grace and the tenderness I saw in every interaction at Krempels. All words become clichéd in the face of so many specific acts of courage, performed daily, out of necessity. My engagement with Krempels came about through my research for the Make Sure It’s Me theatre project. And my visit surpassed my hopes in that regard–my colleague Stephanie Nugent and I have made lasting partnerships there, with specific plans to incorporate Krempels’ staff and membership into our MSIM outreach events. But my participation won’t end when my show closes–it can’t. This is an organization–a tapestry of individuals–performing immensely important work.

I want to be in on that! Don’t you? Visit krempelscenter.org for more information.

My father served as an Air Force flight surgeon during the Vietnam War, a fact that led to my being born on Warner Robins AFB in Perry, GA. His tour didn’t go terribly well for him, and military service did not feature prominently in our family. I was one of those pacifist, liberal arts kids who was both horrified and fascinated by American military culture. I’ve only had rare contact with those who serve. But, as a lasting effect of my father’s Vietnam experience, I’ve remained concerned about military families. When our involvement in Iraq and Afghanistan began, and my own students started to consider military service, I decided to support those who serve. I do not support the war–any war. I don’t know another answer to our socio-political woes, but I feel strongly that armed conflict, by definition, isn’t constructive. But the fact remains that, until we find another way to manage our global affairs and abolish war, a small number of Americans will put their lives and the security of their families in danger every day in order to protect the majority of us (who are often at the mall, wondering if we are getting too old now for this season’s miniskirt).

I started supporting the troops by sending packages and letters to service members I “adopted.” I had an extraordinary correspondence with “my” first soldier, who was working transport in Helmand Province, Afghanistan. In extremely polite language, Darrell explained that he was on his fourth deployment in seven years, had two young children at home–and he was from Georgia! That connection to my past gave us a point of conversation and the stories continued through several letters. Darrell loved Little Debbie snack cakes and 80s music and he hated camel spiders (which I Googled with horror). He hoped he’d be able to wind up his military career after this last, highly stressful deployment. His last letter to me was full of what my dad called “double-digit jitters”–just a few days from going home, he was worried about the crowded conditions and frayed nerves as his unit trained their replacements. He asked me to please keep supporting the troops because it made a huge difference to know their sacrifice was recognized.

I don’t know if he made it home alright. I have decided not to cyberstalk him. I think of him and his wife and children often.

After supporting several soldiers in this way (and one “airman” named Pam), I decided to get more involved locally. Unsure how to make this happen, I discussed it with my friend Johanna, who turns out to be an A-plus-PLUS volunteer! Ever practical, she said to me, “Come give blood. I do it every eight weeks.”

Gentle Reader, I learned that I have tiny veins and slow-moving sludge for blood. But I’m persisting! As my involvement as a blood donor unfolded, I discovered some things about the American Red Cross I hadn’t realized:

• The Red Cross is not funded by the government, but it does have a Congressional mandate to support both civilians and members of the military in times of war or during natural disasters.
• The Geneva Conventions were proposed by Henry Dunant in 1862 as a means to allow a neutral aid society to bring medical and humanitarian aid into war zones–thus, the Red Cross and a series of treaties in support of its goals were all created in Geneva.
• Women (like American Red Cross proponent Clara Barton) have played significant roles in the development of the Red Cross. And Dr. Charles Drew, whose work on blood collection, storage and transfusion during World War II led to the development of the Red Cross blood bank program, was African American. This organization has embodied diversity from its very inception!

Most pertinent to my quest for “something to do,” I learned that part of the Red Cross’s job in supporting military families is to manage emergency communications. When a service member needs to know that a family member has died or been injured–or, happily, when a baby is born–their family calls the Red Cross to initiate the emergency message. A mostly-volunteer staff handles these communications, helping service members to stay connected to their families during these life-changing moments.

Ahh! Something I could do! So, what did my Mom say when I told her about the Red Cross Service to the Armed Forces program?

“Yes, I used to do that, while your Dad was in Vietnam. I loved it when the babies were born and you got to pass that message along.”

I hadn’t known that, or I’d forgotten it! But here was another connection from past to future, waiting to be made. So I pursued my training to serve in the SAF as a volunteer caseworker.

Yesterday, I made my first phone call on an SAF case. It was a brief call to follow up on a mother’s request that her son come home to attend his father’s funeral. I talked to the mother. The message had gone through without a hitch and her son was already home. I expressed my condolences on the loss and asked if the Red Cross could do any more for her family at this time. She said no. She said thank you. I said goodbye.

For me, right now, part of my service will be a series of brief calls to say “hello” and “can we help you further” and “goodbye” to the families of those in the military. I didn’t realize that “service” could be so tiny it could fit into a few words.

Or that something so tiny as this could feel so important.

For more information on the Red Cross’s many volunteer opportunities, visit http://www.redcross.org/en/volunteer .

Interestingly, Wenner chose to write a play to communicate about these issues, rather than a journalistic exposé, or even a novel. In MSIM, she has crafted from her research a small collection of intertwining characters who are meant to be embodied live for small numbers of spectators at a time. Her hope is that this kind of community contact will spur more people to seek out TBI screening and treatment for themselves or their loved ones. And that the military and civilian communities participating in MSIM productions will be encouraged to work together more closely to support the large numbers of returning soldiers who may be affected by this injury. That’s right, folks! A hugely accomplished TV and film producer agrees with us that some jobs are best suited for the theatre. . .

Wenner’s work didn’t stop when she completed her play; she is incredibly supportive of our efforts to bring MSIM to Portsmouth in the spring of 2013, and to develop a series of community outreach events around issues facing TBI survivors and members of the New Hampshire military community. And she continues to raise her voice on this issue, as in her extremely moving op-ed piece from the NYTimes this past weekend, “War is Brain-Damaging.”

In addition to Wenner’s personal endorsement of our work, I’ve had the spooky experience lately of meeting new colleagues (plus one stranger next to me on the plane to North Carolina) who are living with traumatic brain injury. As soon as I started telling people I was working on this project, the stories flowed! None of these folks I’ve met so far sustained their injuries during military service, but all had fascinating (and saddening) details to share with me about their rehabilitative processes and their ongoing frustrations–for instance, being patient with their left hand while it meanders in a shaky zigzag on its way to picking something up. Or having to wear sunglasses in the supermarket so the visual stimulation isn’t overwhelming. Or simply coping with the exhaustion of a 24-hour-a-day headache. My deepest thanks go out to all of those who have shared their experiences with me in the short time I’ve been aware of this issue. I look forward to the many future conversations and collaborations I will have as we work to bring MSIM to the stage. And I send heartfelt wishes for healing to those living with TBI, and to their families.

I applied to the Voices Inside/Out Northpoint Residency program because I’m interested in playwriting as an expressive outlet for people in extreme circumstances. For the last year, I’ve served as a volunteer mentor for the PEN American Center’s Prison Writing Program. I work with a prisoner in Texas who has spent 22 years inside and has never seen a live performance. His ear for character is extraordinary. He has chosen to write plays after trying both fiction and poetry because he’s inspired by the liveness of the stage space (which exists in his mind only, as he has no stage). He has extremely limited access to a typewriter, so all the letters and scripts I get from him are handwritten; creating multiple copies of scripts is incredibly laborious. But he not only writes, he also submits his work to theatres across the county, and even had a one-act play performed in a festival at Theatre Three in New Jersey several years ago.

All of this is inspiring, of course. It’s also extremely sobering because, in all of this gathering and exchange of energy–the prisoner is going nowhere. None of the playwrights whose writerly voices rang out in the Recital Hall on Monday night were present for the readings. My prison mentee spent the evenings when his show was performed in New Jersey in the same cell or rec area or dining hall in Texas where he spends all his days. I don’t find this situation innately injust–the justice system is badly flawed, for certain, and we need to work towards reforming it. But I am not suggesting that writing a play in itself should be a get-out-of-jail-free card.

What these playwriting programs do suggest to me, however, is that more *listening* must happen if we are to change the justice system. Fiction, poetry, and nonfiction writing can be solitary pursuits. A prisoner can study and practice the craft of writing, and even disseminate their work, on their own (which is not to say it’s easy). Sometimes these lone voices reach us outside and that’s remarkable and worth celebrating. But playwriting–the crafting of a work for theatrical presentation–is an inherently collaborative affair. And a play doesn’t really exist at all (as sad as I am to say it) until it’s been animated by actors and heard by an audience, no matter how small. Playwrights don’t know their own work until they’ve seen and heard them infused with life by collaborators.

So, what does it mean to encourage prison playwrights? It means to partner with them in collaborative work. I means to bring theatre to them, as often as possible. It means to build an audience outside for their words and their vision. It means to create a feedback loop of learning between those inside and outside. And It requires active, creative, compassionate listening.

This is a great place for me to stop–time for me to practice listening. Thanks for your own attention, and thanks to PEN America and to Voices Inside/Out for giving me so much to think about.

When the Sophomore Four Point program was started, all the artists involved were painters or sculptors of some sort. But they have since added theatre and cooking to the schedule. New Hampshire Theatre Project sends one of their teaching artists to Gould every year, and this time around I was honored to represent NHTP. There were seven artists in residence for the week, and each student worked with two of them, for two days each. From my perspective, I spent two days with a group of seven kids, and then two days with a group of six. On the third evening, I presented my Mask work to the students, faculty, and staff. (Which was followed by a demonstration from the visiting chef on how to bone a chicken. A fitting combination of wackiness, I thought!) And on the final evening, at a banquet where the art work was displayed all around the dining hall, the acting students and I presented a show that featured improv games, clowns and mask characters. I was incredibly proud of the students’ work–they each spent nine hours over two days with a huge array of new ideas I had thrown at them. And they came up with some great characters! They were extremely nervous about sharing their “weird” work with their peers, teachers, and parents, but once the spotlight was on them, they hammed it up in fine style. Two particular standouts were a boy named Reed, who had turned a droopy-faced mask into a version of Henry Fonda’s character from On Golden Pond; and Ke, a Chinese basketball player whose clown character used the words “Whoa!” and “Oh, yeah,” to hold an entire conversation with two girls. He managed to win the hearts of both girl characters by the end of the scene, with the whole audience cheering him on.

So! My work at Gould is done! Back to the director’s chair–and I’m also beginning work as a Red Cross volunteer in the Services to the Armed Forces program this week. Stay tuned!

Then, in 2013, Stephanie and I will bring Make Sure It’s Me to WEST. Written by former ABC journalist/television producer Kate Wenner, MSIM addresses the issue of Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI) in military service members. Although fictionalized, the characters and events in MSIM derive from months of interviews Wenner conducted with TBI survivors and their families, as well as researchers and caregivers who specialize in TBI. The Make Sure It’s Me/nh project will include a full production in May/June 2013 at WEST, including talk-backs with members of the medical and military communities. Additionally, Stephanie and I will produce a series of library visits to occur in March and April 2013, to use scenes from the play to encourage education and discussion. The goal of MSIM/nh is to encourage NH veterans with any signs or symptoms to seek screening for TBI, and to build awareness of the great resources in place to support TBI survivors within and beyond the military community. We have begun to partner with the Brain Injury Association of NH and other organizations to develop the outreach components of this project, and to support us in creating realistic portrayals of TBI survivors in the performance itself.

I’m extraordinarily grateful to Stephanie for discovering this play and to Kate Wenner for allowing us to produce it in New Hampshire. Stay tuned for news as this multifaceted project unfolds!

Well, Michael liked my teaching style, and he was intrigued by the idea of my mask work. But he’d never seen it. He took a leap of faith and secured funding to bring me to Methodist to give a lecture/demonstration for the public on commedia dell’arte and mask performance. Then he asked arranged a workshop for the Music and Theatre majors on physical theatre. So, that’s what I did! Friday night was the lecture/demo, during which I brought out my masks to illustrate the history of commedia, as well as where I’m going with it in my present work. I can confidently say that Brighina, Stupino, and Punch rocked the house! On Saturday morning, we had about 30 majors all strutting and slouching around, creating original characters from the ground up. Enormous fun–plus, I got to visit with Michael and his family, and learn a little bit about Fayetteville. Next up: Gould Academy in Bethel, ME in two weeks!

I did have some better luck over the years with two iterations of buffoonworks.com, thanks to a dear bear of a man named Gary, who first set it up and designed it for me. Thanks, Gary! You rock! That site is still there, for now; presently it documents my directing work in 2011 on Mike Kimball’s Best Enemies. (Great cast! Great show! Great audiences!)

But I thought it was time to put my friends and family out of the misery that was lesliepasternack.com, by dragging it into the WordPress era.

So, here I am! I’m happy to say that I’m quite busy making two large theatre projects with my colleague Stephanie Nugent of ACTONE, so I’m not sure how long it will take me to bring lp.com up to the standards of my online heroes (Shreve Stockton at The Daily Coyote is an important one). But I’ll have lots to talk about as my work with Stephanie unfolds, so please hang with me.

In the meantime, some topics I’ll be addressing in 2012:

Traumatic brain injury (TBI), military-civilian relations, the nature of tragedy, Red Cross volunteer programs, the importance of blood, surface and depth, clean rooms, and the ongoing magic of dogs. . .