The Story of the Bell.

I received an opening night gift from my colleagues. It is a school bell. A small bronze bell with a wooden handle. I love it. I'd been complaining that I couldn't find the Old Globe rehearsal bell anywhere. My first year, I actually stole the rehearsal bell. I'm not sure why. I remember I pretended it was an accident. Oops, took the bell, so sorry. When I came back I knew exactly where it was! (In my tool kit.) My second year, I felt too guilty to steal it so I left the bell back in the stage manager's prop closet. My third year, after much searching, one of my assistants found it and I again had it for rehearsal. I'd become very fond of that little bell. This year the bell was nowhere to be found. I was disappointed. You may not realize this, my gentle reader, but a bell comes in very handy. It circumvents the need for me to call out, "Ring Ring" or "Bong Bong Bong Bong" or "Brrring." A bell serves the rehearsal by suggesting a telephone, a door bell, a church bell, a boxing bell, a chime, a bell in the distance. (I've used a rehearsal bell for all of the aforementioned.) If you know how to use it (there is a technique) it can be a very useful tool.

I took my new bell with me on my walk today. I put it in my backpack. I'd seen an engraving place down the street and I'd had a thought. I wanted to get it engraved with the following: "Mary's Klinger". This made me laugh. But, alas, the engraving place didn't have the proper equipment to engrave a bell. Hmm. Don't really understand that, but I'll try elsewhere. I went on with my walk. I didn't want to take the time to return the bell to my apartment. So, I "rang" all through my walk, up and down the streets of San Diego, into my nail salon, in and out of Trader Joe's and Rite-Aid, up and down the alleys and the off-road paths. All I could think of was the story of belling the cat. Ding, ding, here I come! I wondered what passers-by thought. I did get a lot of smiles today. Unexpected fairly pleasant noises seem to induce pleasure. A bell. How simple and fun.

A note on the name "Klinger." One would think it means "bell ringer." In my family legend, it means "sword-maker." Not a blacksmith who makes swords, but a specialist in sword-making. My Dad was extremely clear about that. I like it. It has a certain "panache." But it means my joke is purely linguistic, a pun, and not strictly accurate. Alas. And oh, well. Don't really care. I will in fact get the bell engraved, somewhere.