July 19...Turns Out It's Been An Artistic Day For Me

If you're familiar with Facebook, you may get one of those notices telling you that you have memories from the day to look back on. This morning, I got just such a reminder, and it showed an adorable picture I took of my cousin's family seven years ago.

Of course, I ignored it.

But then, I remember that picture and some comments I received on it, so tonight I clicked on the reminder tab and checked out all the things I've posted on July 19th for the past eleven years. Turns out, a lot of my memories have an artistic side to them.

In 2009 I was in a Rodger's Memorial Theatre production of, Joseph and the Amazing Techincolor Dreamcoat. I loved that show. I got to do the show with my then nine-year old daughter and I made many life-long friends. I even posted a video of the brother's pre-show warm-up ritual. I've included it below.

Then, nine years ago, on this very date, it appears I took the kids to a movie. I have no idea what movie it was, but it looks like we were the only ones in the theater, sort of like movie theaters nowadays.

Fast forward to 2018 and I added another picture of another cast in another show in another theater. Rodger's went the way of all the earth and became Centerpoint Legacy Theatre. The show we did in 2018--The Pirates of Penzance. Me and some of the other pirates congregated at the local Dairy Queen for dessert and story swapping. Once again, I did the show with my daughter and I met a new group of good friends.

I have no idea what I will find if I choose to check out the July 20 memories. It'll probably include artistic memories. When you choose to do artistic things, you get artistic memories.

A Poster Of Memories...

I found the poster while digging around in the basement looking for Christmas decorations. It is a Christmas decoration, of sorts. It was meant as a promotional poster. It ended up being a memento, complete with signatures and well wishes.

It's a poster for Rodger's Memorial Theatre's production of Scrooge from December, 2000.

And it's amazing.

The theatre passed out these posters for us to place them around town, at our work, at home, basically anywhere people would see them. I had one hanging up in my cubicle and I received more than a few comments about how great it looked. Ebenezer practically jumped off the poster with rage. You, as a viewer, knew the pain of that man.

When the show ended, I took my poster to the theatre and I had the cast members sign it for my son. He was my oldest and he was only five-years old at the time. I thought it would be a cool thing for him to have, maybe frame it and put it up on his wall. I didn't know if he'd ever do another show--turns out, he caught the bug. In the next few years, he did other shows--he was even Chip in the theatre's production of Beauty and the Beast a few years later.

I snapped a picture of the poster and thought it would be a good Pic Of The Day. That's what I did, and I got many comments on the poster on social media. I wonder if any of them saw the words and memories around the edges.

I took out my phone and videoed the poster, including the signatures and thoughts the cast members left for a child. 

The show took place before the advent of social media, before Facebook, before Instagram. In the almost twenty years since those sentiments were written, many have moved away, some have passed away, children grown to adulthood, adults grown older still. In a word, it's been a lifetime since we met on stage and performed a classic story. And for me and my son, a good lifetime.

Hidden Mickeys...Gotta Find Them All!

The first time I heard about hidden Mickeys was when I did Beauty and the Beast at Rodgers Memorial Theatre more than a decade ago. A cast member, as we set up for our first show, was arranging books on a bookshelf we used for a set piece. I wondered what he was doing because he wasn't just putting the books on the shelf. He was trying to arrange them a certain way.

I asked what he was doing.

"Creating a Hidden Mickey," he said.

"What's a Hidden Mickey? I asked.

I have so much to learn about the world of Disney.

He went on to explain that in shows, plays, movies, and at Disney theme parks, Mickey Mouse likenesses can be found everywhere. He told me there were books written about it (this is pre-internet-explosion times here...). Now, just search "Hidden Mickey" on the internet and you'll have material to read for years.

Back on July 29th, I snapped a picture of a Hidden Mickey I found on a set piece from the show I'm in. One of the artists working on the set commented on social media asking me if I found two more hidden somewhere in the Lost Boys underground set. I spotted one yesterday and I was shown another today. I think I got them all, but I could be wrong. I couldn't find any on the pirate boat.

We have one more performance until the curtain drops on our show for the final time. I'm typing this post in an empty dressing room, the rest of the cast off eating, socializing, having a good time. Finding a Hidden Mickey is like learning a secret, like being included in a special club. Admittedly, I have not spent a lot of time looking for Hidden Mickeys, but I'm glad I did this time. It made the show just that much better.

That Time A Past Cast Member Is In A Tony-Nominated Show...

Since 2000, I've done a few community theater shows...not as many as some, but definitely more than most. When you do a show, you get to know a lot of people, especially if the show requires a large cast and even more if the show is double cast.

For me, it's been one of the perks of being in shows--the friends you make.

Sometimes, if you're lucky, you get the opportunity to do more shows with your friends, and after spending almost every night with the same people for months at a time, those friendships build.

But the opposite of that is, you'll do a show with a person and that's it--either they move away, become disinterested in doing shows, or other responsibilities take precedent in their lives. Thanks to social media, even though you no longer see or talk to these people, you can keep up with what they're doing (as long as they post what they're doing...).

A show I did ten years ago this summer was one of my favorites, Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat. I know the show is done a lot--I've done it one more time since 2009--but it's a blast to do. One of the wives from our 2009 production finished the show, graduated from university, then moved to New York. Tonight, her show was nominated for several Tony Awards. 

Congratulations, Kalyn! Well done!

I remember Kalyn--but to be fair, she's difficult to forget. I remember her being a tremendous talent, singer, actor, but an especially fantastic dancer. At one point in the run, I said she ought to be on Broadway. She downplayed it, saying she had only been dancing for a few years, not the "dancing all my life" response we all think is a requirement for a Broadway performer. Maybe she was being humble, or she believed it--I'm not sure. Either way, it doesn't matter because she did make it. She's in a company, doing a show, and based on her social media posts, living her dream.

In the ten years since the curtain at Rodgers Memorial Theatre's production of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat dropped for the final time, we've all taken different paths. But for one in our little theatre family, she's gone from a non-paid gig at a small community theater, to Broadway, and whether she believed it or not, my prediction came true. 

Inevitably...The Curtain Must Fall

It's been vacant for years, minutes and hours, days and weeks have passed with no one entering, no one leaving--a playground for ghosts and memories. I've passed the structure a couple of times a month since it closed and each time, a feeling of melancholy washes over me, as if a great unfairness has occurred, for how can a place that held such wonder, such creativity, such beauty, fun, heartache, and passion sit idle for so long?

It can because it does.

Yesterday a dear friend posted several pictures of the place we knew simply as RMC, or Rodger's, or our second home. As with all things--since all things are temporary--the building is being razed to make way for places to live. My friends were there to record the moment, to share the space's fleeting moments. I borrowed one of their pictures for this post. They went because they felt compelled to be there as if the building called out to them wishing them to be there as it will soon vanish.

They answered the call because they had to.

Accompanying the pictures my friend explained just how special the theatre was for her and her husband. She included a couple of memories as to why it's so important to them, but she could have listed hundreds more. I wish I could have been there with them to see the space myself, but their captured moments will have to do.

It is in the places of creation where the memories have the strongest hold on our lives. Theaters, homes, (sometimes work...), schools, and studios, beside lakes and atop mountains--it's where inspiration finds us and intertwines with our souls. And when those theaters, homes, schools, studios, and other places where we've been touched by creativity go away, a part of us dies.

Rodger's Memorial Theatre's success also sealed its doom. It could no longer hold back the wave of anticipation for a bigger space, newer facilities, multiple bathroom the paying public demanded and so it was abandoned when the new shiny theater opened a few miles away.

There's a saying in theatre everyone knows. "The show must go on." This means, of course, that the show must inevitably end. A theatre is built and therefore, it must be destroyed--everything's temporary. A theatre may last millennia, or for one night, but like all things, it's time must come.

And the curtain has fallen on our friend.

What A Difference Six Years Can Make...

Social media is much maligned these days and for good reason. But there's some things social media does very well, especially Facebook. It's a digital scrapbook. It's a calendar, a place to post congratulatory birthday wishes, anniversary wishes, baby notices.

It's also a place to post photos.

And to remember events in the past.

Today, when I checked Facebook this picture showed up in my "You Have Memories" section and it took me back. It's from a show we did back in 2009 at Rodger's Memorial Theatre. The Show, Evita, the picture, some of the cast.

And I thought about how much has changed in just six short years.

You see, many in this picture have experienced a lot of changes. Three of these people, when the photo was taken, were not married. Now they are, and some even have little ones blessing their lives. I met some amazing people in that show. I've kept in tough with many (through social media...), and with some I've done other shows.

Funny how six years in the future seems so far away, but six years ago sometimes feels like it was like yesterday. Time, as in all things, is relative.

July 17, 2009...Hangin' With Joseph And His Friends

A lot can happen in seven years.

Before I got out of bed this morning, I grabbed my phone and checked a few sites. Facebook was one of them. I saw the usual stuff, pro/anti this, pro/anti that, but it was the "Memories" feature that made me stop scrolling. The memory conjured by Mr. Zuckerberg's invention stopped at an event seven years ago, July 17, 2009 at a restaurant in Centerville, Utah.

The cast of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat went out to eat after a show.

And I brought my camera.

And I took some pictures.

Seven years ago I wasn't blogging daily. I was probably using my old 10 megapixel Kodak Point-and-Shoot (it was a very reliable camera...). Of course, some of the photos were not the best. Photography technology has improved so much since then.

But what caused me to pause was looking at the faces of those in the pictures. My now teenage daughter looks like she's nine in the photos (because she was...). There's many in these photos who have followed their dreams and are making a living performing. Of course, there's others--myself included--who are doing the same things they did back then, go to work, go to rehearsal, go to dinner after the show.

I miss those who've gone and don't see enough those who've remained behind. I wonder if in seven years I'm going to get a notification as I arise from sleep and I'll see faces of friends, some I haven't seen in years, some I've done shows with a few months past.

I guess we'll find out in then. 

A lot can happen in seven years.

Centerpoint Theatre's "Beauty And The Beast"...It Brought Back The Memories

This afternoon we loaded up the van and saw Centerpoint Theatre's production of Beauty & the Beast. I knew I would enjoy it--the music alone is fantastic. But what I didn't anticipate was the memories that flooded back to me.

In 2005, the incomparable Jim Christian and Rodger's Memorial Theatre (the forerunner to Centerpoint...) put on the same show. My son and I were fortunate enough to be cast, and we had a Gaston that could have walked right into Disneyland and played the part.

I was casts as an ensemble member and D'Arque.

Oh, and a cheese grater.

My son was cast as Chip.

Here's what he looked like then...

And what he looks like now.

My son and I did a lot of shows when he was younger. He kept acting in school doing mostly Shakespeare productions. Tonight my son and I both watched the show together. I watched new friends in the show and it reminded me of all the wonderful friendships I made in that show eleven years ago.

People go to the theatre (or a movie, or a sporting event...) for many reasons. They mostly go so they can feel something, excitement, fear, joy, pain, basically anything. This afternoon I went to a great show and reminisced. Amazing things happen both on stage and in the audience. I've been lucky enough to experience these things from both sides.

Happy Birthday, Jay...

Exactly one week ago today, on Christmas Eve, I shared a Christmas song from my friend Jay. The next day that friend passed away.

Today is Jay's birthday, his 60th birthday.

As 2015 comes to an end so does the life of a kind man. I'll always remember him as an entertainer, and as good a performer as he was (and he was great...), he was a better friend and person.

We take solace in knowing all his pain, his trials and tribulations are over. Happy birthday, Jay. I wish you could have seen the day, but we're glad you're finally free.

Jay Alan Henderson's "Christmas Lullaby"...A Christmas Gift From A Dear Friend

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I first met Jay just over fifteen years ago. We were chosen to take part in the Rodgers Memorial Theatre's production of Scrooge. I think Jay was cast as one of the Bob Cratchits--my memory's a little fuzzy about specific cast members from 2000. If he was Bob, it was a very appropriate part for Jay. Bob Cratchit is universally revered as the embodiment of the every man, the soul of Dicken's Christmas Carol.

Through the years Jay and I performed in many shows together, portrayed leads and characters, comic reliefs and ensembles. I knew when I was fortunate enough to be cast with Jay, there would be at least one person dedicated to doing his absolute best. I remember one production where Jay played one character--a side character--in one cast and the male lead in the other cast. Since this theatre double cast the show, all the rest of us got every other night off once the run began. It amazed me that Jay not only did every show, but had to remember completely different lines depending on which role he played. I shouldn't have been surprised--Jay pulled it off effortlessly. Totally professional, total class act, completely Jay.

One of the advantages (or disadvantages...) with social media is that we can keep up on our friends's lives without even connecting with them. A few years ago Jay informed us all of his health struggles. He presented--at least on social media--a strong front, no excuses, just let us know how it was. He's never sought pity, never asked "why me?" at least publicly. He's fought with class and honor. 

It's been a while since I've seen a Facebook post from Jay. Now I see people posting to his Facebook page wishes of strength for his final test. I can tell from their words that Jay has had the same effect on them as they have on me. They love him and wish him and his family peace and comfort as Jay prepares for what we all will one day face.

At work today, there were only a few of us in the building and I thought about Christmas and all that comes with it--the preparations, making sure we're ready for the big day. I then checked out Bandcamp.com, a website where musicians can create a profile and share their talents. Jay has a page. He's also posted a Christmas song. I played it and all the great memories of my friend came back. You can check out the song: HERE. 

I don't know how long we'll all be together on this earth, but today my friend game me a Christmas gift. I got to hear him sing his song. Merry Christmas, Jay, my friend. May God be with you, always.

* Photo used without permission from: http://jayalanhenderson.bandcamp.com/track/christmas-lullaby