When Language is a Piece of You

There is no time in my life that when I think of myself, I don't do it without hearing the rise and the fall of the Spanish language. It is not a part that is separate from me, but the seed from which I grew.

The Spanish language runs through me like roots that mark a beginning. The sounds of el, la, ina, and ora, circle around me like the rings of a tree.  My family left their country amid words of Spanish and began their new lives in America, arriving with words of Spanish. They were unable to stay under their country's government, no matter how deep their desire to remain, but they were always able to stay in their language.

I have lived in America my entire life. But with the loss of my father, mother, and grandmother, the first generation to be in this country, I feel the slow pull away between me and my first language. I fear this separation and I know that I am a poor cover of the sound that my family brought with them.

My uneasiness comes from knowing that I am adrift without the original sound of my childhood. To hear Spanish, is to hear home. Spanish centers me, it takes me to who I am and without it, I don't see a road ahead of me. If I leave the Spanish language behind, who I am is gone. It is Spanish that binds me to my family's country. Spanish makes the ocean between here and there, disappear.

It will feel like loss to not have the sound of Spanish around me. It will take from my heart the way my father's death, my mother's, and my abuela's, did.

This year, the reaction to the sound of Spanish in this country has turned darker. It has moved in the direction of double takes, disapproval, unasked questions, spoken out loud assumptions. The clear disgust at not hearing English. Some shout out their demand, English! English!

I can't be without determination. I can't feel defeat. I can't feel despair. I can only commit to not be ashamed of speaking Spanish. I won't be made to feel inferior or judged because of it. It is the language that rings truer for me than English.

If I lose my Spanish, I lose my country.

And that may be the goal of the ugliness that is spreading across our nation.

We can't lie about what we feel in our hearts. Our language is more than what we speak with our tongues. It's what we say from our souls. And I will forever have Spanish at the core, as the heat and the spark, as the bridge across the distance of where I came from.

* * *

The World Should Know of Those Who Give So Much for Liberty

My son, Alec, is Air Force ROTC. I asked him to write this post in honor of Memorial Day.

* * * 

When I was in the first grade, my mother would read history books to me. We had a collection of books on American History. One of my favorite books was on World War II, and that's where I first learned of the Gold Star on service banners. Those are the small flags you may have seen in people's windows. They are the official banners that members of a soldier's family can display.

I remember the first time I saw a service flag or service banner in someone's window. I recognized it from the book we had read, and was surprised to see it. I didn't think I would ever see a Gold Star on display. We have only 10,000 people living in my town, but there are two houses within a mile of us that have a Gold Star in their windows.

 If you see a service banner, there are two types of service banners that people place in their windows:

--One with the Blue Star. This means someone in the immediate family is currently serving in the military.

--One with a Gold Star. This means means someone from the immediate household died while serving our country.

Once I learned about the Gold Stars, I began to notice them in any city or town I was in. When we went to visit my aunt, I saw a Gold Star Banner two doors down from her house. She hadn't ever noticed it.

There is an online registry, the link is here, where you can enter your hometown and search the registry for any Gold Star families in your area--you don't have to know a soldier's name.

You can read their names and send a thank you to the family, or leave a tribute on the pages there. When my family drove through the town of Portage on the way to Wisconsin Dells, we looked up any fallen heroes and I was surprised to see that a green beret had died from that town. He was a character portrayed in the movie Black Hawk Down, a Delta Force sniper.

I encourage you to look up your hometown as a way of remembering our soldiers. It can be something special you can do on Memorial Day. Find out the last name and leave them a tribute on the site. Don't think your town is too small because there are two families with Gold Stars in their windows near our house, and we are a small town.
The people who die fighting for our country are not just numbers, they are people with families who love them, and never want them forgotten.

Memorial Day is picnics and parades, we know that. But you can make it a day for what it was set aside for: to remember and honor.

You can remember the soldiers who fought for us by finding out their names and reading them out loud. They're not forgotten that way and they become real.

The service flags were started in 1917 by a father for his two sons. He gave this reason, "The world should know of those who give so much for liberty."
Thank you.

* * *

Parenting from the Food Allergy End

I stared at the allergist, watching him circle and highlight just how many things my 9-month old had tested positive for. It wasn't that I didn't believe him, it was that I already knew without needing confirmation.

 

I wasn't the one who asked for proof, it was the insurance company who wanted to know the reasons for the numerous office visits. I had seen the symptoms and conditions, I had been witness to them for almost a year. My child had been fidgety, uncomfortable, and in between bouts of diarrhea, vomiting, wheezing, eczema and a torturous tight drum of a stomach which his pediatrician had passed off as colic.

 

I knew what I was seeing was so much more than the shoebox category of colic, but few listened to me. What do I know, I'm just the one who watched him more than anyone else. As the physician underlined the test results with his finger, I found myself finally breathing free. His symptoms were real and everything people around me were telling me, that "Your baby is just one of those hard ones,” was wrong. 

My son wasn't hard or difficult. What he was, was scratchy, itchy, stuffy, with painful gas and reflux and yes, of course he cried a lot, but it was to be held. Because it was only in being close to me, skin to skin, that he could finally relax into a state loose enough to override his body reacting to any number of foods or environmental conditions from the day.

As I watched the doctor count out 18+ allergens, shaking his head back and forth, relief filled my body. Because now we could get started in making my son's world one without reaction.

 

***

I began with removing food colors and dyes. His eczema vanished. Next, I eliminated the food allergens of dairy, egg, banana, rice, nuts, in my diet since I was breastfeeding him. We had same-day relief from his explosive diarrhea and projectile vomiting.

 

I kept a calendar and noted how he did as I removed food, polyester clothing, scented laundry detergent and pink-tinted baby lotion from his life. He no longer pulled at his skin and we continued with success at every turn.

 

I was thrilled and empowered and as my son gained weight and smiled, I felt reward after reward. That was from what I could control inside my home. As we ventured out to play groups and neighborhood picnics at the park, I soon saw how this was not enough for others.

 

“Allergies? How awful! I couldn't handle that if I were you.”

 

“Oh my gosh. That's the last thing I'd need. Being a mom is hard enough!”

 

“I am so glad I'm not you. How do you do it?”

And the one that would make me grab the diaper bag and head for the door, "Aren't you scared he'll die?"

 

I was surprised to find that this was not an uncommon practice from other parents: to forget to be encouraging, helpful, compassionate, less knock the wind out of you. Whenever someone would ask, "Do you know if he'll be like this forever?" and I answered back, “We're just taking it one day at a time,” they were surprised and looked at me as if I didn't grasp the significance of food allergy.

Oh, I got it. And I lived it. I had just decided that all my plate could hold, was “one day at a time.”

 

Sometimes the parents caught themselves and tried to reel their words back in, “I mean, I have a cousin who is allergic to Brazil nuts. She seems to be Ok.” Other times they thought they were comforting me with, “I guess there are worse things.”

"There are worse things," provides no comfort. I don't want to live life with, “At least I have this and not that,” as if comparing suffering presumes the quality of others' lives below that of ours.

 

***

After we had changed my diet along with my son's, he went from a clenched-fist and leg-kicking infant to one with a serene and calm temperament. He still sought the comfort of my arms, because it was here, in his cries of physical discomfort, that our bond was formed. He had learned to trust me, and I was there when he cried out for something. Together we had figured things out.


He was always a beautiful baby and I remember how his mood became one of light and joy once we knew what to remove from our diets and environment. The way he had been tagged as “difficult” by others who had seen him twist and cry red-faced had been only through seeing his pain, his stomach distress, not anything else.

***

"What a beautiful boy," a parent at a play group said to me when my son was 15 months old. She was new to the group and not aware of any of our history. “Has he always been this happy?” she wanted to know.


“We had a few issues with food allergies in the beginning that the doctors thought was colic. But we've figured it out now.” I looked over at my son, who sits chewing on his toy in the center of a blanket with other children. He gurgles and blows spit bubbles, kicking his feet happily. It was true, his beautiful smile was always there. He grinned back at us to prove me right.

Raising a child with food allergies takes work. It's not easy. Now that he's a teen, he  confesses he wishes he didn't have allergies. I let him vent, because he's right. Life would be simpler to be able to eat anything without a second thought. There are times I wish the same thing, when I read about people going for ice cream or Friday night pizza. But our reality is different from that of others, and we've found our own way without the presence of certain foods.

People ask me if he'll ever outgrow his allergies. My hopes are different. I hope for him a level of command of his allergy. An attitude of assurance and competence in how we are able to handle our lives with vigilance and knowledge. I want him to pass this strength on to his children should they have food allergies of their own. I want him to instill in them a sense of determination and triumph when it comes to living with food allergy.

When I meet a new mom of food allergy through my food allergy groups, I make sure I offer them my life experience. I tell them I know how overwhelming it feels at first, but I make sure we have a moment for me to say, “Know this will take work, and know that sometimes you'll feel how unfair the circumstances can be. Your child is counting on you to not feel like this is stopping them from living or from doing the things they dream of, so empower them with accountability and belief in their knowledge. Instruct them on preparation and have them hands-on with their own care from the start. And tell them you wouldn't trade them or anything about them, for anything else in the world.” I tell them that last part is important.
 

"Mom, what's wrong with me?” my son asked when he was four years old and we were packing a separate treat for him to take to a birthday party. I answered honestly, “There is nothing wrong with you. If you're asking me why we need our own food and we read food labels, it's because of food allergy. But there is nothing wrong with you. There never has been. You are perfect.”

* * *

Parenting in a New Language

I don't want to say visit.

I don't want to have him only home for awhile.

I don't want to say goodbye after not enough time.

I don't want to until I'm blue in the face, and then I realize, it's me that has to do the growing up.

---
When you think it's your kids that need to stay the same, it's actually you that has to change.

I am proud to be on Grown and Flown with a collaborative piece with Peyton Price: "What Having A Kid Away in College is Truly Like."

"There’s nothing more discomfiting than a good long look at your college kid’s changing face. Is that a new haircut? Does she wear her glasses all day now? Where did he get that shirt? Is he filling out? Since when does her skin look so good? SOMETHING’S DIFFERENT [read more here]... "

 

* * * 

Best Advice in Six

I'm throwing myself a book party.

Along with Whoopi Goldberg, Elizabeth Gilbert, Maria Shriver, and more.

We're all contributors to THE BEST ADVICE IN SIX WORDS: Writers Famous and Obscure on Love, Sex, Money, Friendship, Family, Work, and more, edited by Larry Smith, Six Words from SMITH Magazine.

I'm the "writers obscure" but my six words of advice can be found on page 57.

You can purchase THE BEST ADVICE IN SIX WORDS on amazon, BN.com, and also at just about every book store.

This carefully curated poignant collection of universal wisdom, life lessons, and caution thrown to the wind six words at a time will make a great graduation gift and also a great gift to yourself.

SIX WORDS is "The book that will thrill minimalists and inspire maximalists." ~Vanity Fair
and I'd add, anyone who loves to think, ponder, contemplate, and smile.

To celebrate, tell me your best advice in six. What's Your Six Word Advice? Leave your wisdom here and I'll give away a copy to a random winner. 

With 1,000 contributions from celebrities like Molly Ringwald, Whoopi Goldberg, Lemony Snicket, and Gary Shteyngart, as well as everyday people who've learned a thing or two about a thing or two during their time on the planet, readers will pulled into the sometimes hilarious, often serious, occasionally reflective experience of the book. These words will inspire you, amuse you, impress you, and make you think.

Thank you so much for sharing in my joy!

And six more words of advice - Buy this, you won't regret it.

With love,

the "everyday people"

* * *

Trump Does It

From here on in and forever, I will use any word I want to. Fashioned in any way that fits, because Donald Trump has been doing just this bigly style and America loves him for it. I have witnessed enough video footage of Trump pulling words out of his a** without consequence and this from a man running for President of the United States. Surely a mom of three who lives with a moral conduct of values and compassion will be cut some slack if the sole standing Republican candidate can scoff up word salad.

I will be mangling  increasing my vocabulary with any patched together mental quilt as I've heard them used by the Trump in high profile settings:

If Trump can be questioned about the situation and motives behind North Korea’s leader, Kim Jong Un, and his recent threats against the US, and Trump can pronounce all judgments against Kim “politicional,” rhymes with fictitional, the word flood gates are loosed.

“What’s your take on Kim Jong Un's statements toward the US?”

Trump, with thumb and forefingers poised like a child's pincer-hold with chalk halves: "It's like everything else, *repeats believe me believe me for effect* politicional.”

Politicianal. So that's what our current nuclear war worry is, politicional.

And you know what? Interviewers do not even blink an eye with politicional, or bigly, or   Everything he makes up - it's all accepted as being tru-ey.

That's it, I've had it. I get tired of thinking too only I didn't know I could just say eff it and talk like an inebriated prospector. I'm going to be making up my own words too. Especially on the days we run out of coffee in this household. By the way, is it just me, or the older I get, the less ounces those barrel containers of ground coffee hold?

 

I digress, I will use whatever floats to my mind in cerebellar viscery from this day forward. What trips the tongue rolls out of the mouth.

I pledge from here on in and forever, you will hear more words from me than those flying around at a National Republican Conference. And I will do everything in my power to make this possible for overworked, overtired, overtaxed minds the world over.

This Free The Words movement is going to make things so much easified and plentitudinal for all of us. I, too, have greatominous ideas, but no fire braining power to have them spill out of my mouth.

 

But with Trump, that changes today, because language — or lack thereof — will no longer be the barricadawall it once was, putonifying stoppage to anybody's dreamvisions.

As Trump has proven with his wordimations, anyone can run for office.

But not everyone can politicionalize the bestly. And so I throw my hat in the ring today, and begin blogerizing with purposity.

 

 

How Was Your Mother's Day?

"What did you all do for Mother's Day?"

 "I got Starbucks!"

 "I had time with my family!"

 Me: "I made my kids write me love letters so the day wouldn't disappoint me into a rolled up ball of crushed defeat."

You can hear the rest here, on The Morning Blend  .

* * *

Like Nothing Else

If it weren't for his orange cleats forcing my eyes to a single point, I wouldn't be able to process the emotions that flood over me at seeing my son.

In this moment, he is in his world. And it's like nothing else - no one can know the words he is saying to himself, the commands, the encouragement, the hope and belief, and the need to burst through.

I would give anything to be beside him here, asking, "What do you need to do now? How do you know what it is? Is it instinct, understanding? What does it feel like to be you?"

The curls of his brown hair, so much lighter than mine, his forehead, square like my father's, the smooth darkness of his brows against his thick lashes, I see his cheeks - the way they broaden below his eyes and the lines I know so well. His face is one I could draw without ever seeing another picture of him again. I see it now as I type this, along with what you can't see here -  the flicker of gold in his hazel eyes.

I look at him in motion and my heart aches with gratitude, it's too much to hold. There isn't enough room for it and it catches in my throat.

I have been staring at this photo for much of the morning, and every time I look at it I want to laugh out loud from the beauty. I want to hold it up with my arms open wide and show it to the sky.

In my life, I have faced loss that has gutted me - my mother, my father, my nephew, my abuela, my friend in college.

But having this here, this photo of a moment so full of the energy of life that you feel the rush of the spring chill against your own skin, makes this picture that much more valuable.

It is here where life is lived, when we feel possibility, a chance at the unpredictable. It is a reminder of what we live for: to embrace and thrill into the discovery of who we are.

* * * 

Mother's Day Rally for Mental Health

Postpartum Progress is running their 8th Annual Mother's Day Rally for Mental Health.

They will be posting every hour on the blog, featuring an encouraging and inspiring post by another ‪#‎WarriorMom‬ to give hope of recovery and strength today and all days.

You are not alone. Whether you are currently struggling or in recovery from postpartum depression, anxiety and perinatal mood disorder, these posts are written by moms who have been there, done this, and are willing to tell their story to help YOU.

Mothering is overwhelming when you are in the middle of ‪#‎PPD‬ ‪#‎anxiety‬ - If you feel alone, or know of someone who is struggling to find PPD community, please refer them to these posts.

Mothers need to know they don't have to suffer in silence or shame. Support and a community of acceptance and understanding is one of the best indicators of recovery.

You are never alone, and if you feel you are, please click to the Postpartum Progress website and find the support and community of those who know just what you're going through.

"What you see on social media—the perfect lives with the perfect postpartum experiences—they’re not real. What is real is YOU, and your love for your baby. It’s there, there’s a lot there in with you, too, but your love is THERE [read more here]... "

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10 Secrets My Mother Felt It Was Foolish To Keep

You know someone by what they tell you about themselves. For my mother, there were moments where I would look at her and know she was lost in thought. We had no car growing up and needed to walk to wherever we needed to be. I would be alongside her, and see her with her eyes fixed straight ahead. She would say nothing, and knowing that she was a single mother of six children, I didn't dare ask what was weighing on her. I'm sure it was all of everything.

But, there were things about her that she felt no need to keep hidden. If by coming out loud and clear about what made her who she was, then how much easier it would be for the rest of the world when we knew what she needed from us.

Why keep any of them secret?

The 10 Things my mother felt she never needed to keep secret:

1. A love for chocolate covered cherries.

 Knowing this opens the world to a lifetime of people buying them for you. She would eat them like it was her request for a last meal. My entire life, whenever I see chocolate covered cherries, I think mama.

2. That there was nothing more beautiful to her than flowers.

Because they'll bring them to you on all visits and when you're gone, they'll miss not having you here to buy them for.

3. Your character speaks for you.

Character is the way you act. Character is what you do when there is no one there to witness or applaud. "Mama, I didn't drop that paper on the ground, why do I have to pick it up?" "Character!" I say that to myself, and now my children, when we do what our character calls us to do.

4. That we are never finished with this journey of life.

I remember one day, asking the sky and her in the middle of three children under seven, "When will this get better soon?!" She looked at me, shook her head, with a low chuckle she explained, "Life never stops changing. If you are waiting for that, you will be surprised every day until you leave this earth." 10+ years later, she has proved that right.

5. There is no other choice than bravery, every time.

 Do what your gut tells you and don't think about it again. I had a painful experience with a friend and my mother listened to me. Never interrupting my version of the story, she summed it up and shone a light on it with this, "I remember you wanted to say something to her from the beginning. Why didn't you?" Yes, I did, but I didn't stand up for myself until I broke from the weight of the times I didn't.

6. Never hold a Thank You inside.

From a bus driver, to the garbage collector, to the cab driver who makes sure to get you as close to the door as possible. If someone has done you a service, you thank them. Thoughts can't be read. Say Thank You. When I hear my children thank the bus driver after a field trip, I know it's my mother's words they've learned.

7. Tell your stories.

My mother worked at a bank, in the International Division. She was a translator and many well known people came through when exchanging money, her stories of the people she met always brought a bit of six degrees of separation of knowing someone famous. Now they can say, "I know a person who met Liberace..." and you've given them a story to tell.

8.  Do what your heart tells you you can do.

Then tell people that you can. There is a voice inside insistent that you would be good at it, so begin. Begin, and learn how and realize no one knows you better than yourself. My mother began working with wood, small projects, when she retired. She would finish and step back, "I always wanted to be building something." She knew. I heard these words when I took the role of co-producing LISTEN TO YOUR MOTHER, even around people around me telling me I had never done that before and how did I know I could. I somehow did. We just completed our 4th LTYM in Milwaukee.

9.  Likewise, if you don't want to do something, and no one depends on you for it. don't.

When my mother was young, she never liked to cook. By 88 years old, that hadn't changed. At 12-years-old she purposely ruined the rice her mother had asked her to make so that she'd never be asked to prepare dinner again. When my mother told this story, she said, "It would have been easier to say I won't cook, I will never cook, I will do the dishes instead." Genius.

10. A good joke.

 Laughter is the quickest vacation away from all that presses in on you. We were out to dinner and my mother had ordered one of her favorite dishes, Chicken Paprika. She had left the plate clean and the porcelain was left with pink swirls from where she had used the rolls on the table to absorb every drop of creamy sauce. When the server came to bus our table, my mother looked up at him and told him with a straight face, "I didn't like it very much." He was so caught off guard with her words and the gleaming white of the plate shining through that his laugh filled the dining room. He walked with our plates, still laughing.

If you ask me, keeping it a secret that you love flowers is risky business. It could mean that you'll never have vases of them along your kitchen counters.

+++

Thinking of all of you, on this Mother's Day -- especially those for whom this day brings on an ache. I wish you comfort and solace in the moms around you, others who have stepped into that role of mothering for you: aunts, friends, teachers, sisters, neighbors. Mothering is more than having  children, mothering is that place where we have felt trust and love along the way in our life.

* * *

Mother's Day Still Comes

I wish I could give you a book of rules on having Mother’s Day happen when you no longer have a mother. Rule Number One would be to act as if this day is like any other [read more here] ...

I've got my first post up today as a regular contributor to Mom Babble. Excited would be an understatement: I'm happy, I'm thrilled, I love the sense and flavor of the writing featured there.

It's a good fit. I'd be honored if you'd click over to read about the way I've found to keep celebrating my mother on Mother's Day, even with her no longer here.

xo Thank you, and happy Mother's Day to you all!

Motherless Mother's Day on Mom Babble.

* * *

LISTEN TO YOUR MOTHER on Morning Blend

41 cities across North America, LISTEN TO YOUR MOTHER Shows are filling up local community theatres with stories that celebrate the role of motherhood. All occurring within two weeks of Mother's Day in recognition of the diversity and unlimited possibility of the motherhood theme.

I've been helping to produce LTYM shows for four years now, and two years before that, I was part of the LTYM show in Madison.

I believe in LTYM shows because I see how sharing our stories help us to see how we are united more than we are divided: we have to find the common instead of seeking out the different.

As a co-producer of LTYM Milwaukee, I have the privilege of playing a part in helping Milwaukee hear the voices that need to be heard. I also get to experience how supportive and receptive our Milwaukee community is when they come attend our shows, and when local media offers to spread the word of LISTEN TO YOUR MOTHER.

Milwaukee's Morning Blend show is such a community supporter, and I had the pleasure of being able to talk LTYM on their show last week. If you want to learn more about LTYM and hear from one of our 11 2016 cast members, you can watch the 5 minute segment here.

Thank you!

* * * 

Today is LISTEN TO YOUR MOTHER MILWAUKEE Show Day!

After I read in the Madison cast for LISTEN TO YOUR MOTHER, I knew I had to apply to bring LTYM to Milwaukee. Reading my words before an audience that day had me thinking of so much more that I had never envisioned for myself. That day six years ago forever altered the way I see who I am.

I wanted to be able to provide for others what LTYM had for me. I applied to bring LTYM to Milwaukee and when Milwaukee was given the show, I was thrilled.

And then I put my head in my hands.

How was I going to do this?
I've never done anything like this before.
What.Was.I.Thinking

I had never acted so strongly on an impulse in my life, but I knew that LTYM was a once in a lifetime chance to be part of something that would change my life and the lives of others: the ones reading, the ones producing, the ones in the audience, the sponsors, the families, so many relationships would become part of a community effort like LISTEN TO YOUR MOTHER.

LTYM has grown to become my passion. We are four years running with LTYM in Milwaukee, and each year, I grow and learn. I think, I accomplish, I dig deep, and I am always in awe of what commitment to a community project like LTYM is able to do.

Over 100 producers and directors across North America, and now Canada have each taken their leap of faith into producing a LTYM show. Our casts across our cities this year number almost 500 readers.

Four years ago, when I asked myself what I had gotten myself into, I never thought this side of it: a labor of love, passion, relentless commitment and a tower of satisfaction built on the combined work of belief in our LTYM mission: To celebrate and validate the role of motherhood by giving it a microphone, in all of its complexity, diversity, and humor.

We empower through opportunity and we extend that support through financial contribution to local nonprofits by donating a portion of our show's ticket sales to support families in need. In total, our nationwide shows have raised over $80,000.00 to donate to non profit organizations.

Our 11 local storytellers today are fantastic!

We will be so proud of them and for them, when Milwaukee hears them today.

I am grateful to my co-producers Jennifer Gaskell and Rochelle Fritsch. Jenny is the inner workings of our show and Rochelle is the experienced voice who knows exactly how to move forward in any situation.

They have both made LTYM Milwaukee a beautifully crafted production.

We are thankful for our LTYM Alumni and their annual support of our shows.

We also are fortunate, to the MOON AND BACK, for our spouses and children and family and friends who sell tickets, stuff programs, escort our audience to their seats and unpack unload and carry and so much more that they do, because they know these shows are important to us.

And our most grateful than you to the founder and creator of LISTEN TO YOUR MOTHER, Ann Imig. You've given thousands of women a moment to feel how much they contribute to our communities.

Our national team of Deb Rox, Melisa Wells, Stephanie Precourt, and Taya Johnson mentor us with support and wisdom, we are grateful for your encouragement and guidance.

And more than anything, thank you to our audience who come to see and hear. Thank you for giving your time to listen to the experience of motherhood.

Tickets for our show today are available at the door. We take the stage at 3PM at Alverno College's Pitman Theatre.

***