I can’t believe it, but we’re now officially past the halfway mark. Only three performances left.
How strange to say “only.” I’m usually happy to do a show, and happy to finish it, as well. Not so when I was a kid. I remember crying when a show would end. I wanted the experience to go on and on. I wanted to see my new friends every night, as I had grown accustomed. Mainly, though, I usually loved my character, loved the challenge of making her real, and I didn’t want that to end. Then I entered college. I took on roles that meant nothing to me in shows I didn’t particularly like. I learned that not every production is a good experience. I learned how it was to feel unappreciated in what you’re doing no matter how hard you try. I also learned that no matter how much I enjoyed doing a show, it’s ending was always met with a new show, a new role, and seeing my cast mates in class the next day, same as usual. I grew in college. I don’t mean to knock it. I credit my professors for breaking some of my old bad habits and breaking me out of my shell. I think I got what I needed there, but I also feel that somewhere along the line I lost the magic. I still loved acting and wanted to make it my life, and I had many good experiences, too. But in the process of becoming more professionally minded, the spark I had as a child was stifled, perhaps. Since returning to theatre a few years ago, I’ve observed others get emotional as a play came to a close and regarded it with some indulgence. It’s usually the newcomers or the young. Those of us who’ve been around a while know there will be another play, another role, another chance to play dress up and hopefully dazzle an audience. The ending of a show isn’t an end for us. Not really. Even the prospect of losing touch with newly found friends doesn’t phase us because we know our paths will cross again in some other show down the line. But the truth here is that I’ve never before had the opportunity to play a role which meant so much to me, and I don’t know if I ever will again. Even if I am ever again so privileged, it’s doubtful that I’ll again have the privilege of playing Annie, and I dread telling her goodbye.
“But with all the fights and all the trouble I’ve been here, this place taught me what help is and how to live again, and I don’t want to say goodbye.” ~Annie Sullivan
Yesterday was a special performance for area school children. The deaf/blind school was there, and the theatre provided interpreters for the performance. I’ve been so proud of this production on so many levels. I’m proud of the play itself for being so worthy a story and so masterfully told. I’m proud of the cohesiveness in the cast. I had a blip of conflict with Morgan (Helen), but I’m fond of her, and she has truly worked hard. It has been so fascinating to watch her grow into Helen. Toni (Viney) is in her first show … ever! It’s been an emotional ride for her, and I’m so proud of her for stepping out of her comfort zone. Michael (James Keller) has driven from Gulf Shores every day to attend rehearsals. John and Cathy (Capt. and Kate Keller) have poured their hearts in their roles. I’ve performed with John before and grew very fond of him then. I love seeing him strut around on the stage as the bombastic Captain. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him in a bad mood. Cathy is someone I’ve known and loved for years, but this was our first time to share a stage. I was so excited for the chance to finally work with her after seeing her obvious talent and professionalism displayed in other productions. One of my favorite moments on stage is between her and me, when she holds out her hand and I surprise her by placing in it my fist. She looks me in the eye with confusion on her face, and I say, “A. The first of many. Twenty-six.” She squeezes my hand with a look of understanding, hope, and gratitude. I love us in that moment for the connection we share. And the kids!! Oh my goodness, how fond I have grown of Everett (Percy) and Lee (Jimmie). Two more well-behaved and quiet mannered boys you could not find. Amber (Martha) has entertained all of us to no end with her 9-going-on-19 dramatics. I’ve never seen a child quite like her. And I all the “blind girls” I just adore. I can’t name them all, and some I’ve spent more time with than others, but they all fascinate me in one way or another. I’m so grateful all the work offstage, too. Our set is just fantastic. Sean gives 110% without ever losing his cool. He and Vicky have a lot of props and set dressing to contend with, so I just can’t get over how even and agreeable their attitudes remain when nitpicking requests are made. Have I forgotten someone? Ha ha! Ivan. Ivan has let his affection for this show be known. I’m so proud of him for pouring his heart into it, for truly loving Helen and Annie, and seeing the richness available in each character, making sure we see it, too.
I am most proud, however, of how much this show has inspired our theatre to reach out into our community. Often in community theatre we expect the community to reach out to us. “Come work on our sets! Come see our shows!! Come audition for us! Come, donate money!” Almost immediately from this play being scheduled, people began finding ways to make it accessible to more people. Allyson worked on getting schools booked for a special performance. Our entire cast and crew took vacation time and stayed out of school to do it. Danette arranged to make the show accessible to the deaf by providing sign language interpreters for a couple of performances, one being yesterday’s. This is art as it was truly intended by the greatest Artist of all. Maybe there are those whose greatest aspiration is to create art that perfectly reflects life, warts and all. For me, the greatest aspiration is to create art that inspires. That is art which goes beyond life, and I don’t think there can be anything greater.
When I arrived at the theatre yesterday morning, one of the children from a local school had just arrived. He was wearing the crested jacket that is his school’s uniform, though I couldn’t recognize the school. His father had just let him out of the van parked in front of the theatre. He was in a motorized wheelchair. I was so proud that he came to see this play about hidden possibilities, perseverance, and the truth about disabilities. I hoped it would speak to him, as I hope it speaks to everyone. I’m not often one to heavily promote a show I’m in. I mean, I want people to come see my shows, but I don’t want anyone to feel obliged just because I’m in it and asked them to come. However, this is a show I wish everyone could experience, much like a girl who falls in love wants everyone to meet her new beau. I am so charmed with this play that I want everyone to meet it. I wish everyone could come see what I see and be moved by it as I’ve been moved. Please come and be uplifted, moved, and inspired. You deserve it.
