waiting for my cue

As I have mentioned in a previous post, we are awaiting our second child with the anticipation that only comes from having lost so much of ourselves in the loss of our first child. I've been in standby mode for so long, I have a hard time remembering what I used to be like and what I used to do before my life went off the rails. What was supposed to be a hiatus from church has turned into taking a full inventory about what I believe about God and choosing a new path. There is another thing I put on hold that has been a major part of my life and identity for over 12 years. Much like the Holy Church taught me to love and serve God and the needy, I learned about the value of working with others to serve the community through art from the Church of Bacchus, AKA local community theater.

There and back again (thanks, Bilbo)

Everyone likes movies, everyone watches TV and everyone likes some kind of music. Most people can tell you what books they would read, "if they had the time." Entertaining content is created, copied and sold the mass audiences every day of the year, but a local play only runs a few weekends. Why do we bother to compete with the convenience and talent of multi-billion dollar industries for a few minutes fame? Hundreds of man hours are volunteered year after year to put on shows for a fickle public. Friendships are forged in the fires of tech-week, families and marriages are strained with the effort to make it to rehearsals and performances. We pound lines into our heads only to have some of them melt away under the hot lights of opening weekend, much to our costar's chagrin. Some people go to audition after audition after audition, but due to limited parts and the highly competitive nature of the art, they are never allowed the chance in the spotlight. And still we attend, and compete, and sometimes perform. The risks involved are many, but the rewards and community are worth every minute because it's not about who you are, it's who you can be.

The raw potential of each production is staggering. Some shows are well known and draw all sorts of people out of the community's proverbial "woodwork" to audition. Others are heavy dramas that require personal phone calls and pre-made casting decisions to ensure a production worthy of the material. This blog is named for a day I was standing on a freshly-struck bare stage and thought about the show that just ended. I was impressed that it often starts with someone hammering together a few hundred dollars worth of wood into a sturdy platform, but much like a family makes a house a home, it's the local theatre community that turns a platform into a stage. An empty stage is where a show starts and where it ends. Building something worth watching on that potential requires a monumental effort from a performance community that is willing to try, and a fan community willing to make the time to attend. Being an active member of that community takes more time than I can spare right now, and that's okay because it will still be there when I'm ready to go back. 

I miss theatre terribly some days. Last year, when Neil Patrick Harris performed the Tony's opening number, he broke into a powerfully aspirational statement right in the middle and it hit me right in the feels. Theatre performance makes up so much of my self-image, I don't know who I am without it. I have been all but absent from the local scene for a year and a half, but my friends are still out there working hard and putting on inspiring and entertaining shows. "Circle Mirror Transformation" was one I was very happy we got to see. If it wasn't for the thoughtful invitation of a friend in the Heartland Theatre Company, we might have missed it and missed out on this beautiful production. The show reminded me that even the exercises that help actors interact with each other help create the friendships that I have enjoyed for so many years now.

Keep up the good work everyone; I miss you all and wish you the best from my aisle seat.