- Published on
Anyone who knows me
Knows I love theatre
I love going to it
I love being in it
I love making it
I love the romance
Of sitting in a darkened theatre
The audience in a reverent hush
Taking in the magic occurring on the stage
It’s easy for me to sit still for a couple of hours
Actually, I don’t like sitting still for a couple of hours
I need an intermission
I like hour long acts
I like it when the whole show is one in 90 minutes or less, no intermission needed
But sometimes I question it
Is it ok for me to go to theatre
When people are sleeping on the streets
When children are in cages
When people of color are being beaten
When basic human rights are unfulfilled and
Purposefully denied
On Friday I saw
Into the Woods Sr
A pilot program to bring theatre to senior citizens
The cast were all over 70 something
And their joy of being of stage
Of singing Sondheim’s delicious music
Was infectious
How often do you see the Baker’s Wife in a wheelchair?
Or the narrator’s words spoken in Mandarin?
How often do you see older bodies on stage?
On Sunday afternoon
We had a “relaxed performance” of Frozen
Hosted by TDF for an audience comprised of
People diagnosed with an autism spectrum disorder
Or other sensitivity issues
The house lights were left up a little
The sound levels were lowered
There were Comfort Zones with play mats, and toys
And a purple army of volunteers
Handing out squishy toys and squishy stars
And providing extra assistance where needed
Guests who needed to talk or vocalize or clap loudly
Could
We had been told that Frozen is
A particularly special show for the autism community
They relate to Elsa
The lyrics take on new meaning
What do I know about love?
Am I a monster?
Let it go.
The cast could see the audience and
Even at the end of an 8 show week
The performances were extra special
On the back this month’s Playbill is an ad for HIV research
"Dear HIV, We didn't give up."
At the end of the show a young man came up to me
He pointed at the advert
“Never give up!” he said
With a big cheesy grin
He shook my hand
And gave me a big hug
Regular audiences don’t do that
We’re carefully taught to not display our emotions
Our joy
What do I know about love?
On Sunday night
I saw What the Constitution Means to Me
Written and performed by Heidi Schreck
And joined by Mike Iveson and Rosedely Ciprian
Gut wrenching, powerful, and compelling story-telling
Prescient and adaptive to current events
I didn’t know the American constitution could be so exciting
So infuriating
The rights of people
Who are The People?
Who is given access to the words?
Who is given access to theatrical world I love so much?
“Accessible theatre” is not just cheaper tickets
Who is speaking on the stage?
Whose voices do we hear?
Whose bodies do we see?
Is every seat in the house available to every person?
Is there an alternative to the steps?
Does the armrest move out of the way?
Is the seat wide enough?
Is it supportive?
Is there enough leg room?
Is the toilet cubicle wide enough if someone needs assistance?
How long is the wait for the toilet?
Will a guest miss some of the show because they're waiting for the toilet?
Can you make noise?
Can you express your emotions?
Can you check in with the person next to you?
Can you clap or cheer or dance?
Can you yell at the stage?
Can you rage at what is going on?
Knows I love theatre
I love going to it
I love being in it
I love making it
I love the romance
Of sitting in a darkened theatre
The audience in a reverent hush
Taking in the magic occurring on the stage
It’s easy for me to sit still for a couple of hours
Actually, I don’t like sitting still for a couple of hours
I need an intermission
I like hour long acts
I like it when the whole show is one in 90 minutes or less, no intermission needed
But sometimes I question it
Is it ok for me to go to theatre
When people are sleeping on the streets
When children are in cages
When people of color are being beaten
When basic human rights are unfulfilled and
Purposefully denied
On Friday I saw
Into the Woods Sr
A pilot program to bring theatre to senior citizens
The cast were all over 70 something
And their joy of being of stage
Of singing Sondheim’s delicious music
Was infectious
How often do you see the Baker’s Wife in a wheelchair?
Or the narrator’s words spoken in Mandarin?
How often do you see older bodies on stage?
On Sunday afternoon
We had a “relaxed performance” of Frozen
Hosted by TDF for an audience comprised of
People diagnosed with an autism spectrum disorder
Or other sensitivity issues
The house lights were left up a little
The sound levels were lowered
There were Comfort Zones with play mats, and toys
And a purple army of volunteers
Handing out squishy toys and squishy stars
And providing extra assistance where needed
Guests who needed to talk or vocalize or clap loudly
Could
We had been told that Frozen is
A particularly special show for the autism community
They relate to Elsa
The lyrics take on new meaning
What do I know about love?
Am I a monster?
Let it go.
The cast could see the audience and
Even at the end of an 8 show week
The performances were extra special
On the back this month’s Playbill is an ad for HIV research
"Dear HIV, We didn't give up."
At the end of the show a young man came up to me
He pointed at the advert
“Never give up!” he said
With a big cheesy grin
He shook my hand
And gave me a big hug
Regular audiences don’t do that
We’re carefully taught to not display our emotions
Our joy
What do I know about love?
On Sunday night
I saw What the Constitution Means to Me
Written and performed by Heidi Schreck
And joined by Mike Iveson and Rosedely Ciprian
Gut wrenching, powerful, and compelling story-telling
Prescient and adaptive to current events
I didn’t know the American constitution could be so exciting
So infuriating
The rights of people
Who are The People?
Who is given access to the words?
Who is given access to theatrical world I love so much?
“Accessible theatre” is not just cheaper tickets
Who is speaking on the stage?
Whose voices do we hear?
Whose bodies do we see?
Is every seat in the house available to every person?
Is there an alternative to the steps?
Does the armrest move out of the way?
Is the seat wide enough?
Is it supportive?
Is there enough leg room?
Is the toilet cubicle wide enough if someone needs assistance?
How long is the wait for the toilet?
Will a guest miss some of the show because they're waiting for the toilet?
Can you make noise?
Can you express your emotions?
Can you check in with the person next to you?
Can you clap or cheer or dance?
Can you yell at the stage?
Can you rage at what is going on?
- Published on
Dear Me on the Eve of the 2008 Tony Awards,
Tomorrow night you are going to watch the 2008 Tony Awards, in person, live at Radio City Hall! You are going to sit in the very back row in the highest rafter of that immense theatre and have this intense realization that Broadway is not a magical mystical place on the other side of the planet. It’s real. And it’s filled with the most extraordinary people.
You should go see In the Heights. I know you think it’s not your thing, but you will regret not seeing it. You’re going to use one of the songs to audition for drama school. But that’s later.
Forget about the boy sitting next to you. He’s going to smash your heart into a million thousand pieces.
A few days later you will see Tony Award winner Patti LuPone in Gypsy. You will write in your journal “PATTI LUPONE!” Underline, underline…! You won’t understand that reference yet. How could you? It hasn’t been written. Another life changing Broadway show. But again, that’s later.
In a few weeks you are going to go to summer camp. You will hate it at first. And then you’ll spend another eight summers there. You’re going to meet your future husband there. It’s going to take a couple of years for it all to fall in to place. When it does, it’s lightening fast and you won’t know what hit you.
In a couple of months you will walk the Camino for the first time. During the walk, you’ll realize that you want to do the acting thing professionally. You want to go to drama school. You want to sing and act and dance and trip the light fantastic.
You will. But it will take a bit of time. And some detours. And the aforementioned heart break.
I want to tell you that eleven years from now, you will be married to your very own New York Jew (well, technically he grew up in Virginia, but his family is from New York, so, close enough). You will be amazed, literally daily, by how patient, loving, and wonderful he is.
You get to meet Patti LuPone! She emails you and wishes you well when you have cancer. Yeh, sorry, you get cancer. It’s fucking awful. But you get better. So much better. You’re running your 5th marathon this year! YOU RUN MARATHONS NOW!
You also work in the theatre where Gypsy played. Can you believe it?! You will be working as an usher. I know, you want to be *on* the stage. Please try and be patient, we’re working on it. In the meantime you get to watch Caissie Levy belt her face off 8 times a week. You’ll first fall in love with her voice when you see Ghost in London. By the way, before you move to New York, you move to London to go to drama school for musical theatre. Oh, and before New York, you live in Fort Collins. Google it. You’re gonna love it.
So, Me 11 years ago. Tonight is your first night in New York City. That feeling you have that you are home is right. Eleven years from now, you’re actually not going to watch the Tonys for the first time in over a decade. You’re going to be rehearsing for a reading of a new musical. You’re singing! And playing your flute! The people are lovely.
You are tripping the light fantastic. It is hard and wonderful and everything and nothing like you thought it would be.
Something is stirring…
Breathe it in.
Sincerely,
Me.
Tomorrow night you are going to watch the 2008 Tony Awards, in person, live at Radio City Hall! You are going to sit in the very back row in the highest rafter of that immense theatre and have this intense realization that Broadway is not a magical mystical place on the other side of the planet. It’s real. And it’s filled with the most extraordinary people.
You should go see In the Heights. I know you think it’s not your thing, but you will regret not seeing it. You’re going to use one of the songs to audition for drama school. But that’s later.
Forget about the boy sitting next to you. He’s going to smash your heart into a million thousand pieces.
A few days later you will see Tony Award winner Patti LuPone in Gypsy. You will write in your journal “PATTI LUPONE!” Underline, underline…! You won’t understand that reference yet. How could you? It hasn’t been written. Another life changing Broadway show. But again, that’s later.
In a few weeks you are going to go to summer camp. You will hate it at first. And then you’ll spend another eight summers there. You’re going to meet your future husband there. It’s going to take a couple of years for it all to fall in to place. When it does, it’s lightening fast and you won’t know what hit you.
In a couple of months you will walk the Camino for the first time. During the walk, you’ll realize that you want to do the acting thing professionally. You want to go to drama school. You want to sing and act and dance and trip the light fantastic.
You will. But it will take a bit of time. And some detours. And the aforementioned heart break.
I want to tell you that eleven years from now, you will be married to your very own New York Jew (well, technically he grew up in Virginia, but his family is from New York, so, close enough). You will be amazed, literally daily, by how patient, loving, and wonderful he is.
You get to meet Patti LuPone! She emails you and wishes you well when you have cancer. Yeh, sorry, you get cancer. It’s fucking awful. But you get better. So much better. You’re running your 5th marathon this year! YOU RUN MARATHONS NOW!
You also work in the theatre where Gypsy played. Can you believe it?! You will be working as an usher. I know, you want to be *on* the stage. Please try and be patient, we’re working on it. In the meantime you get to watch Caissie Levy belt her face off 8 times a week. You’ll first fall in love with her voice when you see Ghost in London. By the way, before you move to New York, you move to London to go to drama school for musical theatre. Oh, and before New York, you live in Fort Collins. Google it. You’re gonna love it.
So, Me 11 years ago. Tonight is your first night in New York City. That feeling you have that you are home is right. Eleven years from now, you’re actually not going to watch the Tonys for the first time in over a decade. You’re going to be rehearsing for a reading of a new musical. You’re singing! And playing your flute! The people are lovely.
You are tripping the light fantastic. It is hard and wonderful and everything and nothing like you thought it would be.
Something is stirring…
Breathe it in.
Sincerely,
Me.
- Published on
I left Australia
8 years ago this week
To live on the other side of the world
If you flip an 8 on it’s side
It becomes the infinity symbol: ∞
Can it only have been 8 years?
It feels more like ∞
Or at least like a whole life time has passed
In the past 8 years
I got my Masters degree
I got married
I got cancer
I got better
I’ve run 3 marathons and 3 halfs
Worked at 4 different Broadway houses
Performed in different cities
Wrote and performed a one woman show
By coincidence I’ve lived in 8 different houses in that time
In 2 different countries
In 3 different American states
Around this time of year
I think of Abuelo
Standing on the deck of the P&O Iberia
Sailing into Sydney
And wondering what life would be like for his future nietos yet unborn
I think of Vivian
Who died tragically
When we were 15
I think of getting into the Olympics recording choir
And how it changed everything
I think about who I was when I left Australia
I thought it would be temporary
I wasn’t really sure what was next
My line went something like
“Live in London for 5 years. Live in New York for 5 years.
See what happens…”
Our knowledge of what is,
What could be,
Is infinitesimal
And now that we have reached ∞
What is beyond?
8 years ago this week
To live on the other side of the world
If you flip an 8 on it’s side
It becomes the infinity symbol: ∞
Can it only have been 8 years?
It feels more like ∞
Or at least like a whole life time has passed
In the past 8 years
I got my Masters degree
I got married
I got cancer
I got better
I’ve run 3 marathons and 3 halfs
Worked at 4 different Broadway houses
Performed in different cities
Wrote and performed a one woman show
By coincidence I’ve lived in 8 different houses in that time
In 2 different countries
In 3 different American states
Around this time of year
I think of Abuelo
Standing on the deck of the P&O Iberia
Sailing into Sydney
And wondering what life would be like for his future nietos yet unborn
I think of Vivian
Who died tragically
When we were 15
I think of getting into the Olympics recording choir
And how it changed everything
I think about who I was when I left Australia
I thought it would be temporary
I wasn’t really sure what was next
My line went something like
“Live in London for 5 years. Live in New York for 5 years.
See what happens…”
Our knowledge of what is,
What could be,
Is infinitesimal
And now that we have reached ∞
What is beyond?