My Grandpa passed away this week
It makes the land of my childhood 
Feel even more far away 

We weren’t close 
Grandpa and I 
He believed in a particular life path
University. Marriage. House. Job. (Babies?).
I think my decision to be an actor 
Puzzled and perplexed him.

We didn’t agree on politics. 
We didn’t discuss our feelings. 
Beyond family lunches and events
We didn’t really do things together. 
I wonder if our relationship would have been different if Grandma hadn’t died when she did. 

He was the first person I knew with personalised number plates 
“RLL”
I remember his car being very tidy
Always with that new car smell 
Always with jazz music playing. 

When we were little 
I remember that, because he had worked for Streets ice cream,
Peters Blue Ribbon ice cream was verboten in the house

I remember he often photographed or filmed family events
​Less so in the later years.  

When I was twelve 
He came to a cross-country meet
He filmed the finish line and said
“Well done.” 

He was the one that told me I’d been accepted to uni
He had checked the morning paper
Found my name, and called to congratulate me.

I found his older brother’s service records 
On the Australian War Memorial website
We printed them out together. 
He went quiet, and got a little teary
We never spoke about it again. 

He came to one of my shows
Found there was no parking, and anxious about being in wilds of Strathfield,
Turned around, and drove all the way back to Wahroonga
Without having seen the show.

His emails were short and sweet,
Sometimes cheeky,
After I congratulated him on becoming a great-grandfather, he said
“Shucks! It was nuthin’”
He always ended his emails with
“Love, GPa”

I last saw him at Abuela’s funeral
I had a feeling I wasn’t going to see him again, so
I hugged him extra tight and 
Told him I loved him.

It was hard to see him become frail
Struggle to zip up his jacket or hold a cup because of the 
Tremble in his hand

I think of him
Wearing his akubra 
Legs stretched out in front of him
Arms crossed 
Watching the cricket 

He had lovely blue eyes
And a crinkly mischievous smile 
We may not have been close
Or seen eye to eye 
But he was my grandpa. 

You had a good innings G’Pa,
Sleep well, and goodnight.  ​

Today is the sixth anniversary of my leaving Australia
The plan was to go to drama school in London
Live there for a few years and then
“See what happens.”

What happened was that
On the way to drama school
I fell in love
With an American
Six years later we’re married and
Living in New York

The choice to live in the United States
Has always been met by my fellow Australians with a kind of
Bemused wonderment.
“Why do you want to live in America?
[Insert concern about healthcare/politics/guns/beaches/coffee]
It’s so… American.”

In the wake of the election and inauguration,
Friends and family have asked
“When are you coming home?”
My response is
I am home.
The land of the free, the home of the downright crazy.
I know the insane the state of
Healthcare/politics/guns/beaches/coffee
And when I talk about it with Americans, I say
“Who’s the crazy one? I chose to live here.”

We are/were lucky enough to be able to choose
Where we wanted to live
We toyed with the idea of Fort Collins
We considered Richmond
We looked into living in Amsterdam or London
But in the end, it was the Big Apple the beckoned
Broadway for me, philosophy and tai chi for Aaron
Brooklyn Chinatown for the both of us

Inside the Statue of Liberty
It is written
Everything is bigger in America
Even the peas

And it’s true
Everything is bigger
The food portions
The cars
The houses
(unless of course, you live in New York…
“itty bitty living space!”)
The inequality
Show business

In Australia, as of today, there are 6 commercial musicals currently playing
In the whole country
Six. In. The. Whole. Country.
In New York, as of today, there are 30 commercial musicals currently playing
And that’s just a on a fifteen block radius in Manhattan,
Forget about counting the tours, the regional productions, the non-union gigs...
It just doesn’t compare
It’s got nothing to do with quality
It’s just a numbers game
I’ve earned more money as an actor in six months in New York than I did in my entire life in Australia.

It’s not easy.
Finding a day job that pays a living wage and doesn't suck the life force out of you via your nostrils is nigh impossible
There are more auditions
But there’s also more competition
Health insurance is a terrifying bureaucratic nightmare
Yet some of the best doctors in the world
Work right here in New York
I am incredibly grateful I had access to Sloan Kettering when I did

From the moment I first landed in New York
I knew I was home
The frenetic creative energy
Everyone is a writer, an actor, a musician, a dancer
An artist
Art is celebrated here
It’s on every corner, in every subway car,
When I get to perform in Carnegie Hall or work on the sets of world-famous television shows
It feels worth it

If Broadway went away
If I were no longer a performer
Would I still choose to be here?
I fell in love with a person who, by chance and luck,
Was born an American citizen.
If he were someone else
From some other place
Perhaps I wouldn't be here at all.

So, why do I choose to live in a land of
Shitty health insurance/politics/guns/beaches/coffee?
Because I live in a place that sleeps, eats, and breathes theatre.
But most of all,
I get to spend my life with a
Patient, kind, and wonderful human being
Whose goal is human flourishing

Why do I choose to live here?
Because
​Love. ​