Full disclosure: I’m a little out of it. Now that the holidays are behind us, I’m able to pay attention to a show that I took in at the Hurleyville Performing Arts Centre (HPAC) which I had put on hold, take stock of the last 12 months and collect my thoughts. But that can be a scary proposition—since my thoughts are often not for the faint of heart. 

Prior to ringing in the New Year, I considered making some resolutions, but that rarely works out, so I first checked last year’s list. Suffice it to say that I still don’t make the bed each morning upon rising, mostly because I’m already eyeing a good time slot for a nap. On the plus side, I did adhere to my old-adage vow of “Don’t put off until tomorrow what you can do today,” and that has been really helpful, so with a tip of the hat to Ben Franklin, I’ll carry on.

At the risk of being fatalistic, I’m already doubtful about my first entry for 2025. The post-it stuck to my computer advised that I should “never, ever comment on anything anybody posts on social media ever again” followed by a hastily scribbled caveat: “except for punctuation, grammar, or sheer stupidity.” Uh oh. 

For the moment, I’ll look back at my notes on the show at HPAC, which was billed as “Holiday Horrors in Hurleyville - A Comedy Show Spectacular.” Described on their website as “a night of comedic storytelling with the area’s best comedians & storytellers recounting relatable tales of holidays gone wrong,” the lineup included emcee/comedian Patrick Holbert, standup comic Joey Rinaldi, and storytellers Sandi Marx and Richard Cardillo.

Of the four performing that night, only Cardillo presently resides in Sullivan County, so I’m guessing that the folks at HPAC cast a fairly wide net for “the area’s best.”

As I set up my tripod in anticipation of capturing the “spectacular” for posterity, I took a quick glance at my list of resolutions to keep me grounded before the show began.

“Just be nice” were the three words swimming before my eyes, which immediately rolled skyward. As I focused my camera on the blank stage, I considered the likelihood of that taking place. “Good lord, girl” I whispered to the dog. “Looks like I’ve set myself up for failure before I’ve even begun.”

Holbert was up first, ostensibly to warm up the crowd and he was OK. Not great, not bad, but better than the last time he was in Hurleyville—when as I recall, he kinda failed to read the room. As the words “just be nice” echoed in my head, I then endured Rinaldi, who was not my cup of tea. 

Unfortunately, his “100% absolutely true” holiday horror story revolved around a psychic medium who was allegedly having an out-of-body love affair with the ghost of Warren Beatty. “Be nice, be nice, be nice” I repeated in my head during the Q and A following Rinaldi’s routine—and I was, considering that I waited until he was off stage to inform him that Beatty is still “very much alive,” and that he might want to do his homework before repeatedly insisting that his story was based on fact. That tidbit came as a shock to the comic. “Are you sure?” he asked, momentarily taken aback. “Well then, who’s another heartthrob from that time period?” Not my job, pal—not my job. 

During intermission, I hastily scanned the resolutions list once more, only to be met with my own words mocking me. “Remember,” I had written, “to be ‘humble’ when expressing your opinion.” Seriously? Just typing those words makes me snicker.

The second act comprised Cardillo and Marx, both of whom are (IMHO) consummate storytellers—he with a fable of holiday deliveries gone wrong, and she with a tale of two husbands, with the emphasis on number one. Whereas Holbert might have been slightly misguided with his material and Rinaldi could be considered just plain crass, Cardillo’s story was adult in nature, but tempered with truly funny commentary on what could have been cringe-worthy in the hands of someone less skilled. Since he has recently retired to the region, having been a weekender for years, he’s one actually in the area to keep an eye on in 2025.

Rounding out the evening was Marx, who is absolutely hilarious. The author of “Slightly above Average, Memoirs of a Successful Village Idiot,” Marx hit all the right notes, as she shared a (really true) story of re-gifting, in-laws and marrying outside of one’s faith. It’s OK, now—she found a “nice Jewish boy” to settle down with after all.

Before heading out, I took a glimpse at the second page of my list. “Milk, bread, TP and kibble” were the words making up the fourth entry in my notebook. “Uh oh,” I whispered to the pooch. “Looks like I lost focus somewhere along the line.” As 2025 unfolds, I’ll be seeing you in all the old, familiar places, but keep my full disclosure in mind: I’m always “a little out of it.” 

Fun Fact: The first use of “faint of heart” dates back to “the Adages of Erasmus” written in 1545, but the modern usage refers to a hospital procedure where “a person who is faint of heart must avoid any stressful situation.” Well, duh.