Thoughts on Arthur Miller

On this sixth anniversary of Arthur Miller's death, I came across this disturbing article about his son, Daniel, whom, apparently Mr. Miller refused to acknowledge, because the son had Down's Syndrome. Having associated Arthur Miller with a reconciliation of sorts that I had with my father (referred to in a previous post), as a result of an audition (where I met Mr. Miller) that I had for a 1980s Broadway production of his play, Death of a Salesman, I was now sorry to hear of Miller's inability to enjoy his son, Daniel, because of his having Down's Syndrome. There was a time when a "well-meaning" aunt would tell me that my father did not want to be around me (he moved out of our family's house when I was a child) because I was a reminder of his failings. She was referring to (among other things) my having very poor eyesight — which he had too — and she "reassured" me that she was telling me this "to make me feel better," to which a friend said "tell your aunt if that is supposed to make you feel better, perhaps she should tell you something to make you feel worse."

A Lesson Learned from C. Michael Curtis: How the Apple Presentation Fared

Once upon a time, I wrote an article about a reconciliation of sorts that had happened with my father (he even sent me a card years later which I wrote about in a previous post), which was the result of what I'd learned when preparing for an audition that I had been selected to do by Dustin Hoffman, after I had met him in a chance encounter.
It was my first year (or was it my second?) of living in New York City. I had been waitressing during those years, but was thinking of becoming an actress. However, I had done very little towards realizing that goal, except to get head-shots. As it happened, one very early morning, Hoffman came into the coffee-shop where I was working, and I seized the opportunity, putting my head-shot inside his menu under the words "The Good Morning Special." This evidently moved Hoffman to ask me to audition with him for the 1980's Broadway production of Arthur Miller's Death of  Salesman, in which Hoffman played Willie Loman, the play's protagonist. The role I auditioned for was The Woman from Boston, whom Willie had had a fling with while on the road as a salesman. Coincidentally, my father was involved with another woman while married to my mother. Like Willie's son, Biff, I was devastated by it. Preparing for the role of "the other woman" offered me different perspectives and insights which led to an understanding about my father.

I had compared the play's characters with my family's in an article that I had submitted to The Atlantic Monthly, but I did not include the outcome of the audition. For me, the essence of my story was how a piece of literature and a chance meeting brought about an understanding. The Atlantic's editor, C. Michael Curtis wrote me a lovely letter and commented that I was a "nice writer," but told me that my reader would want to know if I got the part. (I had purposely left out certain details as I like the reader to be able to form his/her conclusions.) But, FYI, I did not get the role Dustin Hoffman asked me to read for, nor did The Atlantic Monthly publish my article. I have, to some extent, lived happily ever after. I now realize that some folks often want to know what happened in a variety of circumstances, and so in this post, I am following up on my notification (in a prior post) where I announced a presentation that I'd been selected to give at the Apple Store on 67th and Broadway. The photo posted above was taken (by Alan Metrick, an Apple trainer/greeter) at that event. It is of yours truly giving a site tour. You can see I am referring to a large screen. This is where my web-site, the on-line brochure, called The Last leaf Gardener was projected. I was very gratified to be one of four selected to make a presentation, and was particularly touched that one of the trainers, Cat Morris, came to the event since it took place after her working hours, and she has a big commute. Two of the presenters were from Apple's Fifth Avenue store, and a gentleman and myself, were the two selected from Apple's Broadway (at 67th Street) store.  It was fun to see my site on the big screen but, more importantly, it was a pleasure to be able to thank Apple for its wonderful programs and extraordinary trainers who were instrumental in the building of my on-line brochure web-site. The trainers are also mentioned in my on-line brochure web-site in the Acknowledgment Page.