My Daughter, Driving, And Rocking Out To Show Tunes...

My daughter is, I suppose you could say, a typical active teenager. She's involved in a dance troupe and she was recently cast in Centerpoint Legacy Theatre's production of Oliver. I know there are kids who do more and kids that do less, but she's plenty busy.

Tonight I drove her to a dance practice a few towns over. One of the great things I've always enjoyed when I do a show with one of my children is traveling back and forth to rehearsals. Even though I'm not in Oliver with her, I get to drive her to and from.

Tonight we had a blast.

I dialed up songs from the musical Shrek and as we drove home, I cranked it through the van's stereo. My daughter loves the music and when Who I'd Be came on, we each sang our parts. That was a lot of fun. When I got home, I downloaded the music from Oliver so we can do the same thing as we travel there and back. Yes, doing a show with your own kid is great, but singing songs from the shows as you commute is pretty good, too.

Closing Night...

There's an energy to opening night that's hard to duplicate. No matter how much rehearsing is done, there's always an unknown...will I remember my line, or the steps? And those crazy frantic costume changes. We take a literal leap of faith as the curtain rises and the music begins.

For three months we see each other almost every day. We witness each other at our most vulnerable times and when there's down time, we mostly laugh. After all, we do this because it's fun. 

Then the show begins and the crowds fill the seats. A nervous energy burns in our guts as Act I begins, then concludes. The same thing happens as Act II starts then ends. Curtain calls and then we meet friends, neighbors and strangers in the foyer.

Of course, to everything that begins, an ending follows. Tonight, as we performed our last show, I watched as much of the production as possible, lurking behind the wings so as not to be seen by the paying audience. I watched and felt goosebumps spread across my skin as a friend sang of lost love and the possibility of emotional redemption.

You know you really love a show when the music moves you the last time you hear it as it did when it was new.

Tonight the props have all returned to the table and the costumes are hanging like ghosts in empty dressing rooms. We hug and wish each other well, hoping we'll one day be cast again in another show. We then get in our cars and drive into the lonely darkness of night.

To everyone involved in this show, it was an absolute pleasure to be with you. Being asked to join was a honor, one I hope I always showed at rehearsals and on stage. This one wore me out, but in the best way possible. Godspeed you noble friends, you beautiful freaks! Until we once again meet on the place we call home.

Amazing What You Can Do With Paper, Pens Stick-It Notes And A Little Time..

There were only a few of us in the green room when he came in and began putting up sheets of paper on the walls. We didn't know what he was doing, but after a moment, we knew.

He was making a wonderful thing.

On each paper was a name, a name of each cast member. It was our job to write messages to each other on the notes and place it on their names.

What a wonderful, selfless idea! Tonight there were even more posts when the show ended than when it began. It shows how much fun and special memories can be created with a few bucks in materials, and some time. Thank you Joshua--it was a class thing that you did!

That's The Night When The Lights Went Out In...Centerville

I arrived at the theater early, which I'm wont to do so it's not entirely strange to see an unlit hall leading to the dressing rooms. What I did find weird is that my numerous attempts to turn on the light failed. I mean, it's not that complicated, even though it's different from the switch I have at home. I can figure this out! Little kids are turning on and off the lights all the time at the theater.

I must have tried that switch a half dozen times when I heard voices at the end of the hall where it was even darker.

"I guess the power's out," I said to the first person I met. Why is it we do (and say...) some seriously stupid things when the power goes out, like try to turn on a light switch?

As more and more of the cast arrived, each were informed of the situation. We prepared to do a show anyway because we had no idea if and/or when the power would return. Many put on make up in the foyer where sunlight still shown through or by flashlight in the dressing rooms. I set out all my props and costumes--I even put on my mic, but as the minutes ticked down, it became evident there would be no show, especially when we checked the power company's website via our phones and the estimated time to have the power back on was hours away.

At 7pm the cast and crew gathered in the green room. We heard the news officially that the show had been canceled and we began to put everything away. I felt bad for the people who were pulling up to the theater and for my friend and neighbor who volunteered to usher for the show. She and the other volunteers would be the ones telling everyone there'd be no show. I'm sure the theater will do everything it can to reimburse the patrons or provide them a ticket to another show. I've had class canceled due to a power outage, work canceled, even dinner canceled (temporarily...). But last Monday was the first time I've ever been involved in a show that could not go on due to a lack of power. Let's pray it doesn't happen again.

Friday Night At Chili's...

We arrive in different cars and at different times--all of us, exhausted. The restaurant is almost empty, a few unfortunate souls who happened to have stopped at this particular Chili's establishment to get a bit to eat or to watch a game on a better TV than the one they have at home. The cool kids rush to the corner booth. Us older (and slower...) ones find a chair and sit down at the next table. The show's over; it's time to relax.

"Wow!" I say to a fellow cast member sitting across from me. "That's a lot of key rings." I pick up the collection of trinkets, bobbles and charms all interconnected with rings of metal. It's heavy and I let it fall to the table. "It's a collection of lots of things," she says and so we begin to chat.

Noise from the table behind us as well as the one in front carries throughout the building. The sound crescendos and decrescendos as the conversations wax and wane. The waiter approaches, "Will this be on one check (he desperately hopes but knows it won't--still, he must ask...), or separate checks?"

"Separate checks," we all say in unison.

"So, how many siblings to you have?" I ask the owner of the world's biggest key chain conglomeration. She tells me. We talk and I tell her things I remembered from a previous conversation we had weeks ago and her eyes go wide, as if surprised people actually remember things. To me, I do a lot of listening. Sometimes it's just easier. 

"You've been to Rome? What's it like?" she asks. "Let me put it this way," I say. "Rome is SO cool that we named our sons after the city. It's like being on another planet."

And it is.

Next, the cellphones come out and it's "Selfie Time!" There's a noticeable pattern at the table next to us. There's the "Let me get a picture," rumblings. Then the smushing--not a lot of sound during this phase. After the picture's snapped, the picture is then checked out by those photographed and again, laughter abounds. This can go on all night and usually does.

Eventually we get our food--different tastes for different folks. I order mine to go. I can't believe how much this show sucks all energy from me. My age is definitely showing. As we eat, laugh, take more pictures (more laughing...), and get to know each other better, fewer and fewer patrons share the space with us. They've finished their meals and left for quieter environs. We remain, active, charged from the performance and exhausted at the same time.

Even though it's Friday night, I leave early--one of the first to depart. I've got appetizers for the Mrs. who is waiting patiently at home. Doing shows takes a lot of time, time away from family. Of course, if I were a teenager or in my 20s, I'd be hanging out as long as I could, laughing, eating, and taking pictures.

I climb in my car, fire up the engine and head home. It's Friday night after the show and I just left the Chili's next to the theatre. Next Friday night, we'll probably do it again.

Magic...Or An Expensive Nap?

Back when our community was soliciting funds to help build a theater to replace the one where we were doing shows (it was in a strip mall...), I asked a rather wealthy friend of mine if he'd like to help us in our efforts in the form of a monetary contribution.

He laughed and said that to him, he considered live theater to be "an expensive nap."

To those involved in live theater, them's fightin' words!

So, live theater's not his thing. It's not a lot of people's "thing." He's a federal government prosecutor. There's a lot of people to whom being a federal prosecutor, or having anything to do with government is not their "thing," so I can understand him.

Last week the latest show to which I'm involved opened. My kids loved seeing it so much the first time, they asked if they could go again. This is a rare thing. My kids see so many shows that I'm in, they get kind of bored sometimes with the whole thing.

Not this show--not this time.

In fact, my kids were watching the Broadway version of Shrek on Netflix over the weekend and my youngest came up to me and said, "Dad--I think you guys do the show better." Even though he's ten-years old, I'll take it!

I was going through my pictures of the past week and I came across ones I took when the kids came to the show. Many involved in theater often talk of the "magic" that is found in theater. There's a lot to be said of that, magic for those on stage and for those in the audience--magic for the writers and musicians and the crews that work the shows.

When I see my son next to the über-taleneted BJ Whimpey after last Wednesday's show, I thought of my friend who would have considered the whole experience "an expensive nap," and I think of what he's missing. He's missing the magic.