This month, we consider the peace, love, and joy honored during the world’s many December holiday celebrations. This issue also encourages us to take stock of where we are as human beings, physically, intellectually, and morally, and to take whatever steps are possible to rise to the next level.

Sometimes that’s going outside and getting some exercise. Brian Barbeito walks by a lake and considers the joy of simple living and natural beauty.

Mrinal Kanti Ghosh recollects a dreamy summer night. Olga Levadnaya captures the solemn stillness of midday heat. Christina Chin renders up the cold silence and calm of winter.

Aura Echeverri Uribe evokes the monumental destruction of an avalanche. Jack Galmitz speaks to how we manage and control wildness, in our neighborhoods and our bodies, and how it can reassert itself. Carrie Farrar speaks to the joy and wonder of visiting France to see the Mer de Glace glacier. Mahbub Alam speaks to a solid connection between humanity and nature, like a tree standing firm in the changing winds.

Tasneem Hossain draws on the owl as an extended metaphor for wisdom and protection. Roodly Laurore reflects on the tender and colorful beauty and diversity of nature in a piece which he intends to bring comfort in a violent and turbulent world. Maja Milojkovic encourages us to imagine a new world of gentleness and peace towards our earth and each other.

Elizabetta Bonaparte’s poetry takes a short, but strong and cogent, stand against war. Valentina Yordanova, in poetry translated by Yoana Konstantinova, laments the mindless destruction war brings to ordinary lives. Eva Petropoulou Lianou calls for genuine humanity in a world at war.

Samar Aldeek tenderly celebrates peace in her bilingual poetry. Dr. Perwaiz Shaharyar draws on the style of courtly romance to honor the legacy of Mexican poet, peace activist, and literary cultural worker Dr. Jeannette Tiburcio. Fernando Jose Martinez Alderete joins in the tribute to Dr. Tiburcio and also speaks of the need for peace and mutual respect.

Paul Durand warns us of dangerous currents, both in the ocean and in American politics. Bill Tope’s poem criticizes human rights abuses committed in the name of immigration enforcement. Duane Herrmann speaks to the spiritual unity of all the world’s people under Ba’hai teachings and how that serves as an antidote to racism and anti-immigrant sentiment.

Travel gives us firsthand experience with different cultures and helps us understand each other. Türkan Ergör illustrates the dislocation of travel through clever and poetic alteration of word and line breaks. Lakshmi Kant Mukul captures the exhilaration and elevated beauty of plane flight. Abdumuminova Risolabonu Nizamovna discusses how travel helps people learn practical skills, including pragmatic communication in multiple languages.

Learning foreign languages, and mastering one’s native language, helps us understand each other, whether we travel in person or through imagination and books. Shakhnoza Pulatova Makhmudjanovna offers strategies for mastering the Arabic language. Muhammadjonova O’giloy Bunyodbekov qizi offers up suggestions for learning Turkish that would be helpful for any foreign language. Abduhalilova Sevdora Xayrulla qizi highlights grammar rules surrounding modal verbs in the Uzbek language. Allaberdiyeva Farangiz outlines ways for students learning English as a foreign language to gain writing proficiency.

Xudoyberdiyeva Jasmina analyzes the linguistic phenomenon of “chatspeak” and ‘text-speak” on the Uzbek language in a piece that’s more intrigued than negative. Dinora Sodiqova discusses the importance of professional communication for aspiring young Uzbek leaders.

People can also travel through time by reading older works and studying history. Petros Kyriakou Veloudas reflects on the joy and the weight of being part of a creative heritage, even when one does not know the names of each and every ancestor. Poet Eva Petropoulou Lianou interviews poet Muhammad Shamsul Huq Babu about his literary legacy and dream of building a large book museum.

Dunia Pulungeanu highlights the lifetime intellectual and literary accomplishments of Dr. Edwin Antonio Gaona Salinas. Choriyeva Go’zal Gayratjon qizi explores the resurgence of academic and cultural interest in foundational works of Uzbek literature. Xudoyberdiyeva Mohiniso reflects on the historical significance of the Mud Battle, an early military defeat for Central Asian medieval historical figure Amir Temur.

Farzona Hoshimova celebrates the pride and beauty of the Uzbek culture. Matnazarova Munisa encourages young and old Uzbeks to remember and preserve their traditional culture. Bobonova Zulfiya sings of the pride, freedom, and beauty of her native Uzbekistan. David Woodward evokes a quest for truth through reading Krishnamurti, ultimately reconnecting himself with his family. Rahmonkulova Gulsevar Samidovna considers the cultural values implicit within Uzbek folk legends.

Muhammadjonova Ogiloy Bunyodbekovna reviews Abdulloh Abdulmutiy Huda Said Bahul’s book Qu’logim senda, qizim, which provides Islamic faith-based guidance for young girls, narrated by a loving father. Ruzimbayeva Quvonchoy also urges Uzbeks to hold onto their traditional values, including love, bravery, and respect for women.

Maja Milojkovic translates Eva Petropoulou Lianou’s tribute to hard-working women around the world from English into Serbian. Mashhura Ochilova highlights the historical respect for women in Uzbek culture and what modern Uzbek women have achieved. Jaloldinova Gulzirahon Otabek Kizi highlights women’s increasing participation in Uzbekistan’s public life.

Orifjonova Nozima Azizbek considers the prospects for preserving the Uzbek language in a time of economic and cultural globalization. Rahmonqulova Gulsevar Samid qizi analyzes the crucial father-son relationship at the heart of the Uzbek folk epic tale “Alpomish” and its centrality to Uzbek family-oriented culture. Rahimberdiyev Ozodbek outlines key elements of Uzbekistan’s heroic tales.

Rashidova Shoshanam explores the long shadows Sophocles’ Oedipus Rex has cast over human literature and psychology. Christopher Bernard reviews Cal Performances’ recent dramatization of Chicago’s Manual Cinema’s The Fourth Witch, about the after-effects of Macbeth’s violence on his victims. Paul Murgatroyd draws on Greek tragedy to poke morbid fun at humans: inwardly messy and selfish, even when outwardly clean. J.J. Campbell provides his signature dark view of human nature, full of sardonic, blunt, emotionally transparent blue-collar surrealism. John Grey picks apart human emotions in his vignettes, attempting to understand why we act as we do.

Dr. Jernail Singh describes how Dr. K.B. Razdan diagnoses some emotional and psychological ills of modern life in his book Gather Ye Rosebuds. Sean Meggeson’s visual poetry speaks to what we gain and lose as modern society progresses. J.K. Durick waxes poetic about times when it seemed that matters were more easily understood and categorized.

Abdulhafiz Iduoze’s epic poem, layered with traditional and modern references from Benin’s culture, serves as a ritual chant and prophetic warning about colonialism and corrupt power structures. It situates recent dynamics within epic time, reminding readers that current matters are not destined to last forever.

Shikdar Mohammed Kibriah affirms the reality of his personal experience amidst the complex claims of philosophical schools. Aisha Al-Maharabi speaks with the voice of one who asserts his claim to existence, writ large on the natural and human worlds. Strider Marcus Jones speaks to reclaiming and holding onto our interior life, emotions, and connection to nature in a world of mass media and technological disruption and deception.

Many other creators explore our internal lives, what we can learn from ourselves and each other and how we can grow as human beings. Allison Grayhurst speaks to her creative and personal journey: learning to function and create through loss, to integrate pain and struggle into her process. Alan Catlin’s fanciful “anxiety dreams” play with our modern insecurities about navigating daily life. Also experiencing anxiety, Mirta Liliana Ramirez’ poetic speaker takes a bit more time before she’s ready to venture out in the world.

Alimardonova Gulsevar Sirojiddinovna explores the balance between personal dreams and duty to society in Somerset Maugham and Abdulla Qodiriy’s writing.

Rus Khomutoff’s latest poetry collection Kaos Karma, reviewed by Cristina Deptula, flows through various words and ideas, pulling us along on the wings of a slow dream. Stykes Wildee’s latest poem seems at once dreamlike and ordinary and conversational, casual thoughts within the subconscious. Mesfakus Salahin’s poetry is ghostlike, contemplative, detached as he contemplates love and death. John Doyle’s poetry harks from a variety of inspirations: everything from insects to gas stations to trains and the countryside. Arjun Razdan’s quick fictional sketch compares young women he sees to elegant fine wine.

Annah Atane’s poetry elegantly traces the outlines of grief and sorrow. Abdulsamad Idris also explores tragedy and loss through a more frank and visceral voice. Graciela Noemi Villaverde finds herself lashed by the storms of loneliness and sorrow. Hanaan Abdelkader Ashour approaches loss with tenderness, offering a kind and reverent note of remembrance for departed loved ones. Marianne Jo Alves Zullas speaks openly of her mourning for her departed mother, everywhere and nowhere at once. Mykyta Ryzhykh’s poem captures the emotional emptiness of a relationship where one person loves intensely, and the other remains distant, consumed by their own habits. Marjona Eshmatova outlines various types of family system dysfunction and how to address them psychologically. Taylor Dibbert points to the ways even well-meaning people can misunderstand each other. Dilobar Maxmarejabova warns us how a person’s heart can become colder and more jaded over time.

Mohamed Rahal speaks of striving for authenticity in one’s faith and in love. Narzulloyeva Munisa Bakhromovna encourages people not to compare themselves negatively with others’ projected lives on social media. Raximberdiyeva Moxinabonu outlines the pressing mental health concern of smartphone addiction and the need to balance our phones with the real world. Moldiyeva Bahodirovna speaks to the way digital technologies have permeated our lives and how to have the Metaverse complement, rather than replace, our world. Choriyeva Xurmo urges balance in the use of digital media in preschool education. Orozboyeva Shodiyeva highlights educational social media applications and encourages her peers to use those rather than focusing just on entertainment.

Jacques Fleury reviews Boston’s Huntington Theater’s production of Alison Bechdel’s tale Fun Home, highlighting themes of intergenerational understanding, how children gradually came to make sense of their parents’ worlds. Young poet Avazova Diyora Alisher qizi offers her good wishes to her teacher in a tender poem. Fayzullayeva Shabbona Sirojiddinova shares her appreciation for her wise and caring father.

Priyanka Neogi playfully celebrates innocent, childlike love. Milana Momcilovic evokes an eternal, spiritual love. Dr. Brajesh Kumar Gupta captures an elegant romantic kiss under moonlight. Vorhees describes erotic and tender love with gentle whimsy and echoes of history. Kemal Berk contributes a graceful love poem about the merging of egos and personalities within a relationship.

Ana Elisa Medina describes a love that encourages her to become a better person. Mohan Maharana celebrates the value of small acts of kindness. Abdusaidova Jasmina shares the importance of kindness through a children’s tale involving a mouse. Balachandra Nair highlights the value of virtue by presenting positive character traits as valuable jewels on display.

Sayani Mukherjee pleads for deep, enduring joy that can withstand the world’s problems.

One way many people find joy is through engaging in various forms of creativity and knowledge gathering. Farida Tijjani draws on a wide variety of technical and natural inspirations to explore gender, creativity, and society.

Various contributors speak of advances in different fields. Uzoqova Gulzoda encourages innovative approaches to elementary school education. Nazulloyeva Feruzabonu highlights the value of science and innovation in inspiring society as well as providing material advancements.

Abdujabborova Rayhona points out ways medical and psychological professionals can reduce unhealthy stresses for pregnant people. Durdona Sharifovna Roziboyeva highlights the success of a recent orthodontic treatment for upper airway issues.

Dinora Sodiqova outlines basic principles of modern consumer advertising. Mamarajabova Shahnoza discusses how digital technologies are transforming the field of accounting. Dianne Reeves Angel celebrates the physical and mental artistry of comedian and actor Buster Keaton.

Several pieces remind us that as we advance in our knowledge and our technical skills, we must bring our humanity along with us. Kandy Fontaine raises questions about ethics and oversight concerning how people are treated in American hospitals. Avazbekova Rayyonaxon reminds medical professionals to display professional behavior as well as knowledge.

Finally, Dr. Jernail S. Anand reminds us to occasionally step back from the clatter of daily human interaction to connect with the universe on a deeper level. We wish all of you inspiration and a chance to think, feel, and connect with the world beyond yourselves this holiday season.

2 poems (***)

***

Dead as a broken moon

Sober as a leaf of a proud tree

Flimsy like pearls of dew in the wind

Tired like evaporated moisture

Free as the yolk in a broken egg

Quiet as a dead man in an evening cemetery

I drink the silence of calm before the execution

***

V. Burich

Wanting love is like lying on the tram tracks

Water is jealous of the density of air in a smoky apartment

You smoke a lot and you’re addicted

I’m addicted to you and your night breath

I’m addicted to your airy body

You’re bending over with a roll-your-own cigarette in your mouth like a sexy snake

Let’s go drink the air of a park frozen in winter time

You won’t come and will continue to smoke alone

I’m also lonely but I don’t smoke

You will die of lung cancer, but I have already died of love for you

We say goodbye lying on two parallel tram tracks

We don’t even say goodbye we just resign ourselves to sleep

GO HOME!

     “GO HOME!”  I heard shouted by a biker as he sped past.  I was bewildered.  I was north of Chicago, visiting the continental Bahá’í House of Worship for North America in Wilmette, Illinois. Located on a ridge of land beside Lake Michigan, it can be seen from some distance. With its ribbed dome rising over the tree tops, it is a distinctive feature of the North Shore. It is a unique structure which attracts visitors from all over the world. All are welcome.

     It is my spiritual home and has been for over half a century. I was not raised Bahá’í, no one is automatically Bahá’í.  That is a choice each person must make for themselves.  It was my choice as a young man out of high school on my own. I had been raised in a conventional Christian church in an unconventional family. My father’s mother was devout, so much so that, living on the farm next to ours, she began to come to our place every Sunday morning as soon as I was old enough to go, and would take me to Sunday School, then the church service afterwards. I was too young to put on my own pants, Dad had to hold them for me to step into, so I may have been just two or three. The sermons were long and boring, so Granma entertained me with quiet games. I eventually learned to sit still. As more children came into the family, they were added in the car too. Sunday mornings were the only times our parents had alone.

     Granma taught Sunday School while we attended our classes. She had been a founding member of the church. Actually, I should say, her husband, son and brothers had been founding members, women were not allowed to vote or serve on the church board. Granma was one of the most active members of that church, yet she regretted that never once in her ninety-seven years of life had she been elected to head any of the many organizations or committees she belonged to there.  She belonged to lots of community neighborhood organizations and had been elected president of them all at one time or another, more often than once, but not at her church.

     Even though I was recruited for the ministry, I had my own reasons for finding another spiritual home. I never accepted the idea that everyone other than members of that church were going to Hell. I always thought God was bigger than that. Bahá’í scriptures teach that the Creator of the Universe (God) has provided Messengers/Saviors to all peoples, so none is left out.  No one is condemned due to geography or time of birth.  When I found the  Bahá’í Faith, I embraced it immediately.

     The  Bahá’í Faith is as different from the belief system of that church, as the church building is from a  Bahá’í House of Worship. For one thing, in a  Bahá’í House of Worship, no preaching or weddings or funerals are undertaken. There is nothing in the edifice to separate people: no images, items or symbols – there are none at all. In this one, but not all, there are some brief quotations from Bahá’í scriptures around the top of the walls, in English because that is the dominant language in North America. No rituals or ceremonies are performed in this house of worship, because Bahá’ís have none to perform. With none of that, there is no altar to perform in front of. Likewise, there is no pulpit for preaching, because preaching is forbidden, as is collection of money. With no rituals, ceremonies or preaching, there is no clergy, no priest to perform these actions. There are brief worship services consisting of readings from the world’s religious scriptures, not just Bahá’í. There is no commentary on the scripture. The purpose of the building is for meditation and prayer. Though it is five hundred miles from my home, I try to go once a year just to keep in touch. There are few of them around the world because more effort, and money, has gone into providing schools in places where governments can’t. There are close to a thousand of them.

     Not only is the building open to the public, but Bahá’ís consider each House of Worship they build as a gift to mankind. These structures are places where people can take a break from the world around them and pray and meditate. Anyone may enter as long as they are quietly respectful of others. It is a peaceful, quiet place for meditation and prayer for each soul.       

Bahá’ís have erected Houses of Worship on each continent and more are being built. All are similar with no distractions for the worshiper, yet each is very different regarding the style of its construction. Some, in tropical climates, are open to the air. All reflect in some way the culture in which they are built. The one in New Delhi, India is in the form of a lotus blossom, often referred to as the Lotus Temple, and has been used by others to represent the entire country.

     Gardens surround the nine-sided buildings (they all have nine sides, in a circular shape, that is the major architectural requirement). The gardens serve as a transition space before entering for worship. In Wilmette, a circling bench is a feature of each of the nine gardens. One does not have to go inside to pray. Each garden has a fountain in a pool to help mask surrounding noises, but they cannot obscure them all. Some of these gardens are next to a major street that nearly encircles the structure. I was in one of those gardens when a motorcycle passed by and words were shouted into the air.

     “BAHÁ’ÍS GO HOME!”

     The biker had rapidly passed before I could process the words. They were not words I had expected to hear. I had actually never heard them before in my presence. Then I reflected.

     ‘Yes, in a few days I’ll be going home, back to Kansas, but I’m sure that’s not what he meant.  I could conceivably ‘go home’ to the home of my ancestors. Several came from Germany, some came from Ireland, but one of those was really Scottish, yet there are others. But part of me IS home! My Native American ancestry IS home!’

     That led to a new train of thought.

     ‘You sir, are more likely the invader. My Native people have been here since some last ice age.  Your people may well have come since then; why don’t YOU go ‘home?’

     Of course, I couldn’t say any of it, and what would have been the point if I had?

     Is this a slight bit of the rejection my German ancestors felt when they settled in the part of Kansas where I grew up and now live, when they tried to build a new life here in the 1860s? They were resented because they tried to make a living by the way they knew from home – making apple cider. They made two kinds: hard and soft. It was the hard cider that was objectionable, associated with drunkeness and unseemly behavior. I don’t know what all else.

     After a century here, my family is well respected here (someone must have liked the cider), so this rejection was a bit startling and slightly amusing. He drove on past with no more than venting whatever he needed to express.

     I thought what an impossibility it is to send people “home” when our only true “home” is planet Earth – and we are ALL home, wherever on Earth we happen to live. And, some people have little choice where that may be.

     The shouter undoubtedly assumed that members of the Bahá’í Faith had come to this country from somewhere else, when that’s only partially true. The first Bahá’ís in America were born here before they knew of the religion. In fact, most Bahá’ís at this time in every country are people who were born there and learned about the religion, then adopted it as adults. The shouter was unaware that one is not born a Bahá’í. A person can be born into a Bahá’í family, with Bahá’í parents, but to be a member of the Bahá’í community must be a conscious choice sometime later in life, usually after age fifteen. One can’t make that decision for anyone else. Parents can’t make that decision for their children.

     The Bahá’í Faith is based on the teachings of Bahá’u’lláh, a member of nineteenth century Persian aristocracy who spent the last forty years of His life as an exile and prisoner due to His teaching such things as there being a Messenger of God after Muhammad, the equality of women and men, and that the human race is one race. He gained nothing for His efforts. He lost all of his possessions and all worldly status. His entire family were prisoners and two sons died under those conditions. He gained nothing and lost everything, but He did not give up.  

     Today, millions of people around the planet read and study His words and use them to improve their lives, their families and their communities. They are demonstrating His teachings that: “The earth is one country, and mankind its citizens.”  The human race is at “home” on planet Earth. We are ALL home; we ALL belong HERE, on Earth!

#  #

NO WAR

Another day cries out its terror,

the earth is red under the rubble.

The silence

of those who do not want to hear

falls upon the earth.

Indifference is gunpowder.

Elisabetta Bonaparte is an Italian poet, writer, lawyer and teacher. Her passion for poetry has materialized in a significant literary production, characterized by a profound sensitivity to existential and natural themes and by a refined, intimate and meditative language, rich in symbolism and metaphors. Elisabetta Bonaparte has participated in national and international literary competitions, obtaining First Prizes, Medals, Plaques, Special Prizes, as well as numerous other literary awards. Her compositions, translated into several languages have been selected and included in literary anthologies and published in national and international specialized journals, both in print and online, in many countries.

Developments

There used to be animals, the latest litter

of kittens being fed on the street by strangers,

or racoons rolling across the uncultivated grounds

along the railroad tracks,

and birds, countless birds, stretched across the sky

perched on high voltage wires, starlings

mostly, but also crows and occasionally

a falcon would show from God knows where.

Now, they are gone. Construction is

mostly responsible. But there was more to it:

ill-informed young men had heard racoons

were always rabid and would attack them,

so, they poisoned them. And they poisoned

the cats, too, because they reproduced;

no one had thought to fix them and that that

would do. And the tall buildings placed where

before there were giant black trees made

the place incommodious to the birds

who used to range their rainbows in the spring.

Oh, how I miss them. Miss them all badly.

How gladly would I replace the people

for their preening and unconsidered living.

How much more than a motel

was the murmuration of those birds.

Listening To The Voice of Virginia Woolf

It was always

reaching a crescendo

then descending

like a shirt ironed

with a hiss from the steam

released like the tide

the rattle of pebbles-

I saw it with my eyes.

It returned always

the way words do

that fill a line

and make it stable-

earth shoveled into

a garden and into

a burial plot, too.

Petals open

our own tiny sun.

Shaking out the sea

it sparkles and bears

witness to the bodily

shape of memories. To some

it is ironclad law that is all

and holds within it

such dread as to not

be considered at all.

Who but a poet would associate

incarnadine with multitudinous

seas? Ah, words went

breathing and traveling

from street to street

picking up habits

remembered for centuries

becoming lips and speech.

The Examination

The doctor’s nurse will lay you down

on crumpling paper on a metal table

and place electrodes on your chest and arms.

She will record your heart rhythms

and be satisfied with the results

if they are regular and recur.

The test has its limits: it tells the heart’s

electrical currents. It does not know

the many hurts it suffered, or when it started

fighting back with all its umbrage.  

I am surprised that they separate the heart

from the rest of the life, as if we did not belong

to an interrelated organism.

Afterwards, she will escort you to a waiting room,

where everyone sits alone and no one

talks or looks around. She will leave you there

where everyone wants to hear

their name called out and their hearts unstimulated

go on beating alone.

Loneliness When It Rains

The sky weeps tears of mercury,

each drop a dense, cold thought.

My soul, a ship adrift on a sea of ​​lead,

without a compass, without a port,

only the gray horizon.

The umbrella, a cage of broken ribs,

half-protecting me from the inner storm.

The streets, empty veins of a sleeping city,

where ghosts dance to the wind’s rhythm.

The silence, a rough cotton in my throat,

choking the words I never spoke.

I am a leafless tree in the eternal winter,

waiting for a spring that never comes.

The asphalt, an obsidian mirror,

reflecting my blurred face.

Each puddle, a blind eye watching me,

reminding me that I am alone in this labyrinth.

GRACIELA NOEMI VILLAVERDE is a writer and poet from Concepción del Uruguay (Entre Rios) Argentina, based in Buenos Aires She graduated in letters and is the author of seven books of poetry, awarded several times worldwide. She works as the World Manager of Educational and Social Projects of the Hispanic World Union of Writers and is the UHE World Honorary President of the same institution Activa de la Sade, Argentine Society of Writers. She is the Commissioner of Honor in the executive cabinet IN THE EDUCATIONAL AND SOCIAL RELATIONS DIVISION, of the UNACCC SOUTH AMERICA ARGENTINA CHAPTER.

Caleb Levin, Odin Vega, Lyla Randall in Fun Home; directed by Logan Ellis; photo by Marc J Franklin

Serious Playtime at Huntington Theater’s “Fun Home” November 14 – December 14, 2025

A serious yet playful reimagining of parental memory through surreal childhood dreams conflating with the imposition of adult reality

The winner of five Tony Awards including Best Musical, Fun Home is a beloved, groundbreaking, and soulful story of conceiving your parents by way of adult point of views. Constructed from Alison Bechdel’s best-selling graphic memoir, the musical unearths Alison through childhood, college, and adulthood as she decrypts her coming-out story, and her compounded relationship with an astute, labile, and closeted father. How have the mysteries of her father’s life shaped her own discernment of love and integration of her lesbian identity? With a lofty score by Jeanine Tesori and a terse, emotionally charged book by Lisa Kron, Fun Home is a mesmerizing, must-see theatrical experience, directed by Logan Ellis.

Among the multifarious thematic spirits of the unfeigned theatrical biographical missive ‘Fun Home’ (inspired by the popular comic strip Dykes to Watch Out For), which is a play on words meaning ‘Funeral Home’, is a rip roaring song and dance journey into a childhood past to come out soaring into the greater understanding of present day adulthood. It explores how we perceive our parents from our childhood perspectives and how we come to understand them better through adult introspection. Through the plays’ use of the musical genre, it was able to achieve magical dreamlike moments that may have otherwise proved to be a challenge. The main characters’ understanding of her mysterious complex and brilliant father left me feeling a need to understand his obscure sense of aloofness myself. His perhaps deliberately vague characterization left me with a queer desire to learn more about his enigma, much like the way some of us feel about our own fathers.

Amidst all the adult complexities of parental woes and domestic tensions, growing up, navigating college life while discovering her budding sexuality, the main characters constant presence on stage to explain in a literal sense the multitudinal stages of her life effectively kept the audience in on her private thoughts and youthful perspectives that kept spectators engaged and invested. I, for one, was really rooting for her and symbolically rooting for my own childhood self remembering the mysteries of my own parents and homelife. “Fun Home” alleviated the tense moments of the production with a hot handyman in tight seventies short shorts, awkward first dates and sexual encounters that conceivably made some uncomfortable, albeit in a “fun” sexy way.

This play speaks to the phenomena of children wanting to understand their parents better through childhood dreamlike imaginations, wishful thinking and adult realistic reflections conflating to give us a serious study of childhood understanding of adult relationships but in a “fun” way; thus consequently that’s a five out of five stars for me!

— For more information, visit huntingtontheatre.org