The last night at Camp, I tried to sleep, but I couldn’t ignore my mother’s sighing and heavy breathing from the next bed over. I would have never noticed the noise if Irina hasn’t make such a fuss about it the night before.
I tossed and turned for a while, counted sheep, and even tried to put a pillow over my head. Nothing worked.
“Anyu, are you okay? Why are you breathing and sighing so deeply?”
“Ehhh…my bra…it’s too tight.”
“What size are you?”
“36C.”
“No way, mom, you’re bigger than that. Even I’m a 38B.”
“No vay you’re a 38! You haf no boobs!”
“Gee, thanks. And ‘38′ has nothing to do with boob-size. It’s the circumference of my rib cage.”
“Oh….really? Den vhat are dah letters for?”
“That’s the cup size. For your boobs.”
“Oooooh. Nobody ever told me dat. I just picked von up vhen I was 18 and I’ve been getting dah same size ever since.”
“Didn’t Nagymama ever teach you about that stuff?”
“You didn’t talk about tings like dis vhen I vas young, Stephie. You veren’t supposed to.”
“Says who?”
“I dunno. You just veren’t supposed to talk about anyting.”
My mother eventually “unbuckled” herself, her heavy breathing hastened, and I fell asleep.
I was in the middle of my reoccurring dream about carnivals when I felt a pair of strong hands shaking me.
“Stephie!” Anyu yelled. “Somevon is tryink to break into dah room!”
I muttered something unintelligible about cotton candy.
“Seriously, Stephie! Dey are trying to get into dah bathroom!”
She dragged me out of bed and pointed me in the direction of the closed bathroom door.
“Anyu, no one is trying to break into a freakin’ Bible camp…”
She put a finger to her lips to shush me. Indeed, there was some sort of clicking coming from the bathroom.
I reached for the doorknob, trying to ignore my mother’s nails clutching my upper arm. I opened the door and braced myself. There was nothing - no one at the window, no one behind the shower curtain.
Click click click. Click click click.
My mother looked up at the ceiling in horror, pointing to a small rusty vent.
“Dey’re trying to get through dah ceiling, Stephie!”
“Anyu, that vent is smaller than a piece of paper. No one could fit through it.” (Well, except for “Tombs” from X-files, but I decided not to mention him, given my mother’s paranoia and lack of Sci-Fi knowledge)
“Maybe dey can’t fit, but dey are probably still peeping through dah vent! Listen!”
The clicking persisted.
“Anyu, it’s a windy day. The air is blowing through the duct and rattling the vent. That’s all.”
“Nope, somebody is definitely dere. I can feel someting vatching.”
I couldn’t take it anymore. I had spent the entire day apologizing for my mother’s inappropriate public demands for a husband, while listening to the intimate details of my nephews’ pooping habits, all the while hearing the constant drone of misters lamenting about the eternal fires of hell. This “vacation” already felt like hell on Earth, so I just wanted to get back to my Cotton Candy Carnival dreams.
“Oh, you know what, Anyu? I think I saw a bird fly in there this afternoon from the roof,” I lied. “He’s probably just making a nest or something.”
“Or maybe a skirl?”
“Yeah, maybe it was a squirrel. Or a bird. Or a squirrel bird. Yeah, a flying squirrel. Anyway, we’re probably keeping it awake talking about it, let’s go to sleep.”
“Okay, good. I’ll turn on the fan, then, so maybe it vill cut it up and it’ll die.”
“Yeah, sounds great, goodnight.”
The next morning, I woke up to my mother reading a magazine and singing to herself in her tighty whities, completely bare-breasted.
“Ewwww, Anyu, cover yourself.”
“I tink dat skirl isn’t dead yet, Stephie, but maybe by tonight he’ll starve to death.”
“Anyu, do you hear me? Why are you shirtless?”
“You told me my bra was too tight! I don’t vant to cut off my circulation. Dats no good!”
“You’ve been wearing the wrong size for 30 years, one more day isn’t going to kill you.”
Just then, there was a knock at the door. Without evening thinking, she answered the door, just barely crouching behind it to cover her naughty bits.
It was my 7-year old nephew, Attila.
“Stephie-nay-nee! They rang the breakfass bell, come on!”
I jumped towards the door in slow motion, matrix style, “ATTILA, NOOOO, DON’T COME IN!”
My mother looked at me like I was crazy as I hugged the boy’s head to shied his eyes from the horror. “Vhat’s dah problem? He’s just a little boy, it doesn’t matter, he von’t remember.”
“Yeah, I’m sure he’ll try to repress this memory, but years of therapy will bring it back up. Please, Anyu, put some clothes on.”
I handed Anyu some Mother’s Day presents after I got her to settle down and put on some pants. After dealing with last year’s drama, I decided to give my mother a GIANT bottle of Arbor Mist to help her relax during our weekend “vacation” at the LBI Bible Camp. Sure, it’s totally against the Camp regulations to bring alcohol on the premises…but if the management tried to sleep next to my mother, they might pour themselves a glass, too.
“Oh, tank you, Stephie,” she said, admiring the bottle, “Did you bring dah cups?”
“Yes, I have them,” Irina chimed in. She pulled out several wine glasses from her bag. It was actually her idea to “drug” my mother with fruity wine.
Anyu made a face and sniffed them. “Are dese clean?”
Irina rolled her eyes, “Yeeees, Ildie, they’re clean.”
“Are you sure? You didn’t just pull dem off the shelf from dah Dollar Store and put dem in your bag, did you? People probably touched them.”
“NO, Ildie, I brought them from my kitchen cabinet.”
Anyu thought for a moment, “Your kitchen cabinet is probably dusty. I’m gonna vash dem.”
We both rolled our eyes as Anyu washed all of the glasses in the hotel sink, sniffed them, and washed them again. Eventually, she poured us all large glasses.
“Here’s to relaxation,” said Irina.
“Cheers!” I said.
“Kedves egészségére!” said Anyu. “So, vhat’s dah story?”
For a short period of time, we actually had a really good conversation. We laughed, shared the lastest “juicy gossip”, and Anyu genuinely seemed to enjoy some of the gifts I bought her. The wine was working!
I handed her the last gift, an 8×10 glossy headshot taken by a professional photographer. “Anyu, you’re always asking for current photos, so here the latest one.”
“Eeeehhh….vhy dah hell do you need to wear pink? You look like a pig or sometink!”
“Ildie!” my cousin yelled, seeing my disappointed face. ” It looks nice! Really! I mean, you look really different, but it still looks nice!”
I sighed, “Sorry it’s not the 8th grade dance photo.”
“Oh, yes! Dat vas a good von! You Irina, do you remember, Stephie used to be so sexy…”
I plopped my head on the pillow. “You just can’t please everyone,” I thought. Since even one glass of wine makes me sleepy, I fell asleep almost immediately.
The next morning, I woke up to my mother’s singing. “Pretty voman, valking down dah street…pretty voman. Vould kinda like to meet. Pretty vomaaaaan….”
I glanced over to see cousin sitting straight up in bed with a furrowed brow. “I am going to kill your mother,” she said, fists clenching the blankets.
“Eh, she’s always singing something,” I said, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
“No, not that!” she said, “You didn’t hear her drinking all night?”
I looked over at the bottle on the nightstand. “What do you mean? Half the bottle is still here, she didn’t drink that much.”
“No, it’s not the amount of drinking. It’s the volume of drinking.”
I was confused. “Um, the words ‘amount’ and ‘volume’ pretty much mean the same thing.”
“Oh, wow, I can’t believe you slept through it.”
“Remember, Nagymama was poking and prodding me all night as a child. I sleep like the dead.”
“Okay, then, let me demonstrate.” Irina got up and grabbed one of the wine glasses. She cleared her throat to ready herself for the performance. She sighed loudly. She put the glass to her mouth and made a loud “SIIIIIIIIIIIIP!” noise. She slammed the glass on the nightstand. She sighed again loudly. She scratched her head so furiously that it sounded like two sticks rubbing together. She then picked the wine glass up again, moved it an inch, and then put it back on the table with a clang. She adjusted her boobs and burped. She looked back down at the the glass, sighed, picked it back up. “SIIIIIIIIIIIIP!” She slammed the glass back on the table. I laughed.
“This is not funny, Stephanie! I was up ALL last night because of your mother’s sipping and sighing and scratching and banging…I’m going to kill her!”
“Welcome to the first seventeen years of my life, Cousin. Remember, I never had my own bedroom.”
“Yeah, and that’s why I am sleeping next door tonight. Sleeping in a room with a married couple and their two young children is quieter than sleeping next to your mother.”
Posted At : June 15, 2009 7:10 PM | Posted By : Live Arts Festival & Philly Fringe
Related Categories: Video, Art, Theater
Men in dresses parading, poignant and creative autobiographical art, a collection of the true stories of gay people worldwide, and a Transylvanian grandmother who wraps Christmas presents in used tin foil. And that’s just the beginning.
At the Arts Bank’s Laurie Beechman Cabaret, red velvet curtains line the walls while deep purple crushed velvet frames the performance space. Against this plush backdrop, the First Person Salons unfold every month. Produced by First Person Arts, the salons illustrate how narrative shades the work of artists across virtually all media. Last week I took in the most recent salon to watch four artists tell their own stories and discuss how narrative shapes their work.
Painting and autobiography are infrequent bedfellows (at least overtly) but painter Sarah McEneaney integrates both in her colorful and soulful work. She frequently incorporates her older artwork into new pieces, and much of it draws from difficult experiences from own life. She called one work a breast cancer self-portrait, placing a depiction of herself on a background of normal and abnormal blood cells. Another portrayed her rape, which she created using a tempera of egg yolk and the police’s fingerprint dusting powder. Intimate and harrowing, McEneaney commanded the attention of the room.
Writer, producer, and performer Stephanie Yuhas followed on McEneaney’s heels with a journey inside the world of her relationship with her nagymama, or grandmother, through an engaging, witty, and endearing excerpt of her film Nagymama: A True Story. The creator of American Goulash, Yuhas might be even better known for Nagymama, an animated film that has been a hit on YouTube hit. Like nearly 300,000 viewers before them, the audience erupted in laughter over her Transylvanian grandmother’s idiosyncratic bedtime rituals. After the screening, Yuhas discussed and auctioned off Christmas presents she received one year from her nagymama: ball of yarn wrapped in previously used aluminum foil; a hot pink muumuu; extra-long Maxi Pads (with wings for extra protection of course!); and granny panties: awesome. By finding appreciation her own family’s culture through humor, Yuhas’s presentation was a fun reminder about how to celebrate our histories.
Next to take the stage was Michael Koeler, Philadelphia photographer, who presented his photo essay PARADE. He began his segment by dedicating his work to his adorable and pregnant wife. And by asking her to momentarily join him on stage, Koeler scored a collective “Awwww!” and unanimous brownie points from the audience. The idea of “parading as living” was the essence of Koeler’s photo essay. He captured the spirit of Philadelphia during one of its most celebrated and memorable traditions: the Mummer’s Parade.
But the collection sprawled beyond the confines of Broad Street, including Mardi Gras attendees, swimming boys in Croatia, an old lady at a flea market, and emotionally charged shots of his grandfather shortly before his death. Koeler documents the story of people parading through their lives; he captured the essence of lives in relation to one another; he captured lives exuding love. On PARADING, Koeler said, “[It's] sharing the way we all learn; it’s what it’s all about.”
The last performance of the evening was by Nathan Manske, editor of ImFromDriftwood, a blog featuring true stories from gay life around the globe. In just two months, Manske’s website has collected more than 100 tales. Along with three other presenters, Manske read aloud several of the stories from the website in monologue form.
The stories were poignant, powerful, some humorous, and all honest. Many discussed first loves, first heartbreaks, their hardest moments coming out, and their realizations of who they are. Manske’s goal is to convey a sense of community through his website, a place where experiences can be shared and discussed.
Writ broad, the First Person Salons share this goal, as they strive to foster a genial sense of artistic community where active endeavors are shared and discussed, where audiences not only take in new work but give artists feedback that they integrate into the development of future projects, and where the arts communities of Philadelphia can come together even more.
Filed under:First Person Salons — posted by admin on June 10, 2009 @ 7:05 pm
7:03pm The doors are open, and folks are starting to gather. Stephanie Yuhas has some really stellar secret objects she’s auctioning off. http://www.shinygrape.com/americangoulash/
She’s raising money to cover the cost of her camera that was stolen during a ProjectTwenty1 event. Help her out!
7:38 We’re now underway at the Salon. Vicki’s reminding everyone that we’re still seeking artists for the salons this year. You can download an application at http://salons.firstpersonarts.org
And you better believe we’re talking about Edible World: Joe Sixpack’s Northern Liberties. It’s happening this weekend! http://edibleworld.firstpersonarts.org
7:45 Sarah McEneaney is first, talking about her extraordinary opus. She’s spent quite a bit of time in that western arts mecca Marfa, Texas. Fascinating use of self-portraits. Her paintings appear in her other paintings, creating a uniquely compiled memoir.
Her work is funny and poignant. Chronicling her time as a clinic defense volunteer in Center City. Especially given the recent killing of Dr. Tiller in Kansas. A victim of rape in her own home, a series of the paintings works out a variety of revenge fantasies, cultivating a sense of safety.
7:50 Hilarious! McEneaney has painted an aspirational art collection. She’s also a muralist–see her work at Franklin and Diamond St. ”…the abandoned Reading Viaduct which as become another…thing of mine.” She’s working to turn it into a park like the High Line (just opened in Manhattan).
Star Party–a live outdoor planetarium in Marfa, Texas. This is an extraordinary archive of painted memoir. I hope, if you’re not here that you can see it collected somewhere all at once. I’ve never seen anything quite like this!
8:15 pm Stephanie Yuhas is next with American Goulash. Starting with a story of Epic Failure. The First Person Arts audience is cool with that!
Yuhas wanted to be a marine biologist but became an animator instead. Clearly that wasn’t the failure! Animation!
Hard to believe, but it was rejected by the Ottawa Animation Festival! It’s a YouTube success story. A triumph over self-hate and fear of judgment.
Stephanie is calling for folks to visit their elderly family members. Seek the stories that transcend generations. Yes!
8:26 pm Family visit to Hometown Buffet. Gift time! Actual gifts she’s received from Nagymama: Yarn wrapped in tinfoil. T-shirt dress. Maxipads. Some serious granny pants.
Sometimes it takes hard questions to get good stories from your elders. Thanks Stephanie! Intermission time.
8:55 pm
Michael Koehler dedicates his talk to his wife who’s pregnant.
He’s collected a photographic record of the things that ground him. The meaningful objects he carries with him.
His essay is about the Mummers Parade. A great collection of, among other things, photos of mummers peeing on the streets. PARADE.
“if you go the whole way, you see things differently”
From Mummers to Philly day parade. Audible gasps at the crowd shots of Phillies fans.
Koehler has a wonderful connection with the subjects of his photographs. His archive goes back to his 10th grade year.
“Things start happening when you honor what you’re looking at…something just happens.”
Beautiful photo of a tribute mural from 55th and Woodland–”Shitty”
One of my favoriteof Koehler’s photos: Pulling Horse
Shrimper Ricky Robbins from New Orleans–A video portrait… “The word love is the creation of everything.”
“Parading is about sharing the way we all learn and trying to find some fusion in it.” Check out Koehler’s website: http://www.michaelmkoehler.com/
9:30 pm Looks like we’ll go a little long, but Nathan Manske and imfromdriftwood.com are next. Audience clearly has the energy after this great lineup tonight!
Nathan Manske came up with the idea for the website last December and was later inspired by a scene in the film Milk.
Wednesday he saw Milk, Thursday he had the idea, Friday he got laid off! In just two months he’s collected more than 100 stories from all around the world.
I’m auctioning off FOUR hilarious props from tonight’s stage show to help raise money to keep “American Goulash” going strong!
All props come with a certificate of authenticity. This evening’s performance will be filmed, so your props will be featured online for years to come.
*If any auctions go over $50, you will receive a FREE copy of this “American Goulash” performance on DVD! Please allow for $4.95 USA shipping if you aren’t picking these items up.*
How Do Silent Auctions Work?
If something sounds good to you, click “Comment”, type the amount you would like to bid on the item and the item number. That’s all!
If you would like to buy an item outright to make sure you’re the one that grabs it, simply comment ”BuyItNow”, the item number, and then pay online. BuyItNow purchaser will receive bonus gift of 2 free passes to a future performance of “American Goulash” or equal value free gift if buyer is not local to Philadelphia.
THE ITEMS
Mystery Prop #1:Clue: A present from Nagymama. Round-ish. Has been used for many purposes throughout the ages and is one of Nagymama’s favorite things.
Mystery Prop #3: Clue: A present from Anyu. Jumbo. Promises to protect you, even though it might make you uncomfortable. Great for embarrassing people.
Online prebidding & sales on this page will end at 5 pm today, so if you want to make sure that you win your prop, BuyItNow or come out to the show & watch the bidding sheet like a hawk! The names of the Mystery Auction items will be revealed during the live performance at 8:10 pm. People at the show can bid up to 10:15 pm. Winners will be revealed live around 10:30.
Thanks for supporting American Goulash & hope to see you at the show!
We’ve all got a crazy family story, the ones we pull out when a party gets dull to stir up a round of belly laughs. People might not even believe that Uncle John burned down the garage or wrenched an old lady from her burning station wagon, but they beg you to tell it over and over again.
Stephanie Yuhas has a blog’s worth of these stories. Since 2007, she’s been posting several stories a month on American Goulash (shinygrape.com/americangoulash), mostly about her Romanian mom (Anyu) and grandmom (Nagymama), their views of the world, and their unique style of child-rearing.
In a recent post called “Bath Time,” Yuhas explains that she had to sneak showers as an adolescent because Nagymama believed that excessive bathing led to: “Red Hair (which makes you look like a whore), All your hair falling out (well, at least it won’t be red anymore), and Kidney infections (resulting in death).” Digging into the archives we learn about the time Nagymama (at 97) chased away a purse-snatcher, or the time that Anyu was so plagued by neighborhood cats she needed to take sardines with her just to get into her car. In one of my favorites, “The Medusa Costume,” Yuhas describes that Anyu, unlike those mothers that like photos of their children in graduation garb or confirmation outfits, wants “A Sexy Photo” of Stephanie.
“I’m quite certain that my mother would prefer a photo of me airbrushed, bikini-ed up, and straddled over some kinda sports car or bear skin rug,” she writes.
The stories are outrageous to the point of unbelievable; and nearly all of them are completely hilarious from beginning to end. The dialogue is spot on, and the Transylvanian accents hit the page just as they would hit your ear, a feat at which some of the best writers fail miserably. What’s more, Yuhas insists that all of the stories are 100% true.
An animator and filmmaker, she was born and raised in Central Jersey, but her entire family is from Transylvania, Romania. The American Goulash stories grew out of a successful animation, “Nagymama: A True Story.” The short film, which you can watch on Yuhas’ website (shinygrape.com/americangoulash/videos), received a standing ovation at the Philadelphia Arts Bank; was featured on the front page of YouTube and several other websites; and was broadcast internationally on cable TV as part of the Nicktoons Film Festival. Yuhas says it was the hate mail she received in response to the film that inspired her to continue chronicling her unique family. “A lot of people didn’t believe that this family could exist, so I started filming them to prove it and to continue the story,” she explains. “Then some jerk stole my video camera, so I started writing it as a weekly online series.”
Despite the seemingly endless stream of stories about Anyu’s and Nagymama’s antics, you never get the feeling that Yuhas is getting laughs at their expense. There is no doubt that these stories are as much homage as they are humor. In fact, Yuhas has made it part of her personal mission to encourage others to collect stories from their own grandparents. With a grant from the Leeway Foundation, she’s giving the world a new challenge: “Get off your fanny and talk to your granny.”
This month, she’ll bring that message to the First Person Salon, sponsored by First Person Arts, at the Philadelphia Arts Bank, June 10 at 7:30 PM. She’ll show the Nagymama film and read a few of the stories from American Goulash. “I want my stories to inspire other people to write down their own stories,” Yuhas says. “These days, we are so focused on microblogging about the type of sandwich we’re eating that we frequently forget where we came from and how our family even came to be. I want people to ask those questions–before it’s too late.”
What you need to know:
Stephanie Yuhas shows her film and reads at the First Person Salon at Philadelphia Arts Bank, June 10 at 7:30 PM. Can’t make that, read Yuhas’ stories at www.shinygrape.com/americangoulash
As usual, I am attending the New Brunswick Hungarian Festival. Anyone want to meet up for some stuffed cabbage , walnut roll, fried dough, and dancing? (Not necessarily in that order)
Saturday, June 6, 2009
34th Annual Hungarian Festival
New Brunswick, NJ
34TH ANNUAL HUNGARIAN FESTIVAL COMMEMORATING THE RE-DEDICATION OF THE MAGYAR REFORMED CHURCH
AND THE 800TH ANNIVERSARY OF THE FRANSISCAN ORDER Coordinated by the Hungarian Civic Association (HCA) New Brunswick, New Jersey FESTIVAL MALL AREA ALONG SOMERSET STREET CLICK HERE TO DOWNOAD AND PRINT FESTIVAL PROGRAM
FESTIVAL ONLY SPECIAL: COME VISIT US AT THE HRFA TENT AT SOMERSET AND PLUM STREETS
TO GET A FREE ONE YEAR SUBSCRIPTION TO FRATERNITY MAGAZINE!
PARADE STARTS at the Hungarian American Foundation Somerset & Bethany Street Proceeds to Somerset & Division Street
OPENING CEREMONY
In front of the Magyar Reformed Church
Welcome
Professor August J. Molnar President of HCA & President of American Hungarian Foundation
Invocation
Fr. Capistran Polgar, O. F. M. St. Ladislaus Church
HCA Welcome (Hungarian)
Rt. Rev. Barnabas Roczey Honorary Member of HCA, Pastor Emeritus of MRC
Greetings from the The Honorable James M. Cahill City of New Brunswick Mayor, City of New Brunswick
Commemorating the Re-dedication
Rev. Zsolt Otvos Magyar Reformed Church Minister of the Magyar Reformed Church
Commemorating the 800th Anniversary of Franciscan Order St. Ladislaus Church
Fr. Capistran Polgar, O. F. M.
Benediction
Rev. Zsolt Otvos Minister of the Magyar Reformed Church
After the opening ceremonies performance by the Hungarian American Athletic Club’s Folk Dance Group and Fencing Team
HUNGARIAN FESTIVAL
PROGRAM & SCHEDULE
11:00 Festival Parade procession on Somerset Street from the corner of Bethany and Somerset Streets at the American Hungarian Foundation processes to Division Street to the Magyar Reformed Church.
11:30 Opening ceremony in front of Magyar Reformed Church, 175 Somerset St.
12:00 After the opening ceremonies performance by the Hungarian American Athletic Club’s Folk Dance Group (***) and Fencing Team
12:00-3:00 Csurdongolo Folk Pavilion: Beer Garden, Hungarian Folk Bazaar, Music by Életfa at the St. Ladislaus Church Parking Lot, 39 Plum St.
12:00-4:00 Hungarian Music Entertainment by Gypsy Joe at the Magyar Reformed Church Courtyard, 175 Somerset St.
12:00-7:00 Tivadar Papp Orchestra on Somerset St in front of HAAC
1:00-2:30 Széchényi Magyar Iskola: Puppet Show and Craft Making at the St. Ladislaus Church Lower Level, 39 Plum St.
1:00 Hungarian Scouts Folk Dance Group of New Brunswick, Dances from Székelyföld, Transylvania at the Hungarian Scout’s Home, 66 Plum St.
2:00 Csurdöngölo Folk Dance Ensemble of New Brunswick, Dances from Gömör, Northern Hungary at the Hungarian American Athletic Club, 233 Somerset St.
2:00 Hungarian Scouts Folk Dance Group of New Brunswick, Dances from Székelyföld, Transylvania at the American Hungarian Foundation 300 Somerset St.
2:30-3:00 Violin Concert by Gypsy Joe at the Magyar Reformed Church Courtyard, 175 Somerset St.
3:15 Fencing demonstration HAAC Fencing Team at the Hungarian American Athletic Club’s Auditorium, 233 Somerset St.
3:30 Folk Dance Gala Performance at the Hungarian American Athletic Club’s Auditorium, 233 Somerset St.
6:00 Twilight Concert, Lisa Apatini with Continental Orchestra at the American Hungarian Foundation Courtyard, 300 Somerset St.
9:30-2:00 am Festival Closing Disco at the HAAC, 233 Somerset St.
(***) This performance has been made possible in part by funds from the New Jersey State Council on Arts/Department of State, A Partner Agency of the National Endowment for the Arts; through a grant provided by the Middlesex County Cultural and Heritage Commission/Board of Choosen Freeholders.
My mom has no idea how brilliant and hilarious she is. I think I will buy her one for her next “Burstday”. (They make a great gift for Father’s Day, too! Available in all colors & sizes!)
At the June 10th Salon, Stephanie Yuhas will share “American Goulash”, a series of humorous stories about her childhood as a first-born American to a Translyvanian family. “American Goulash” is a written self-exploration that preserves old stories, tales, and idiosyncrasies from her own past. Her work is, more broadly, an encouragement to all people to speak to their elders and learn from and share their family histories. You can read some of the stories at the American Goulash website.
Stephanie Yuhas is an award-winning writer, producer, and artist whose films have been featured on the front page of sites like YouTube, MySpace, CollegeHumor, and in dozens of international film festivals. She works with several productions companies around the Greater Philadelphia area to produce and market film and animation, including Shinygrape Studios, Cinevore Studios, and Crystalline Studios. Her last project she worked on was a musical that involved a girl rolling around in raw meat, and in addition to her current project, “American Goulash”, she is developing a feature film involving robotic uteruses. Needless to say, she leads an “interesting” life. You can see some of her work by visiting Shinygrape.com.
Yuhas is also the Executive Producer of Project Twenty1, an organization dedicated to networking, inspiring, promoting and exhibiting artists from all disciples through film and animation. To find out more about Project Twenty1, visit NotJustAFilmFestival.com.
Join us on Wednesday, June 10th for Yuhas’ Salon presentation along with three other artists exploring facets of memoir and documentary art:
Sarah McEneaney shares a series of thoughtfully rendered personal narrative paintings covering the flux of human experience ranging from the mundane to the acutely traumatic.
Michael M. Koehler shares PARADE, a photo essay exploring his relationship to Philadelphia, mediated through images of this city’s iconic Mummers. Michaelmkoehler.com
Nathan Manske will present selections of “true stories by gay people from all over” collected on his website Imfromdriftwood.com
The Salon takes place at the Arts Bank Laurie Beechman Cabaret (601 S. Broad St.) and runs from 7:3opm to 9:30pm
My cousin’s son Attila has what I would call “Green Guilt”. Every time he receives any type of food or gift that has packaging, he immediately asks, “Is this recyclable?”On our last family trip to “Bible Camp”, my mother threw a plastic bottle into the garbage can in our room.
“Auntie, Auntie!” Attila yelled, pointing at the trash.”We need to put this in the recycling bin OUTSIDE!”
“Nope, I do not recycle,” said my mother.
“But you have to put it so we don’t pollute Mother Earth,” he whined.
“Eh, I don’t feel like it.”
“But why noooooot?” He pleaded with his big blue eyes.
“Because I am lazy,” she laughed.
“Okay, then I can go outside and put it in the bin!”
Her expression changed from amusement to horror. “NOOOO!” she screamed. “You can’t go recycle, somevon will steal you!”
Don’t worry, I fished it out of the garbage can later and took him to recycle it. I’m trying to keep his childhood scars to a minimum.
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The last night at Camp, I tried to sleep, but I couldn’t ignore my mother’s sighing and heavy breathing from the next bed over. I would have never noticed the noise if Irina hasn’t make such a fuss about it the night before.
I handed Anyu some Mother’s Day presents after I got her to settle down and 
Next to take the stage was 
The last performance of the evening was by Nathan Manske, editor of 
I’m auctioning off FOUR hilarious props from tonight’s 
Mystery Prop #1:Clue: A present from Nagymama. Round-ish. Has been used for many purposes throughout the ages and is one of Nagymama’s favorite things.
We’ve all got a crazy family story, the ones we pull out when a party gets dull to stir up a round of belly laughs. People might not even believe that Uncle John burned down the garage or wrenched an old lady from her burning station wagon, but they beg you to tell it over and over again. 
My cousin’s son Attila has what I would call “Green Guilt”. Every time he receives any type of food or gift that has packaging, he immediately asks, “Is this recyclable?”On our last family trip to “Bible Camp”, my mother threw a plastic bottle into the garbage can in our room.
