How Are You Feeling? Rate Yourself!

Back in college, a bunch of us took a road trip to Montreal. I went to school at the University of Vermont in Burlington, which is only about 90 minutes from Montreal so we could do the trip in one day. I drove, and on the way home, late at night, my friend Joe P. had the unenviable job of keeping me awake. So, periodically, he'd say, "Rate yourself! How are you feeling?"

For some reason, it's one of those ride homes I'll never forget (and I understand it's also a location thing, you know, had to be there).

I was thinking about that today as I tried to rate myself but I'm not sure I could settle on a single emotion. Ever have one of those days?

This morning, my alarm did not work so I didn't get up until 8:28 which is significant because we leave for the bus at 8:38. Somehow, my children got up, ate breakfast, brushed their teeth (even!), got dressed and made it to the bus stop in time for the bus. I just thank the good Lord (or whomever) that about 20 kids get on the bus at our bus stop and that the bus is always late. So this morning I felt relieved. Oh, and tired.

I'm also feeling impressed with the response to the earthquake in Haiti. So many people donated so much money in such a short time. But I confess, I'm a bit conflicted as I hear reports of Haitians complaining that we didn't act fast enough. I can't imagine being in Haiti right now but it feels to me that we acted as quickly as we could. Of course, I'm not there and since they didn't have much to begin with...it's just so sad.

And, I'm sad because I heard news last week about an actor I worked with last season. He was diagnosed with acute leukemia and is now in a medically-induced coma. I didn't know him really well--we had some beers, I hung out once with him and his wife--but I enjoyed working with him and looked forward to maybe working with him again. It's just heart-wrenching.

On the lighter side, I had my second vocal lesson yesterday, and my teacher said I know more than I think I do. He even told me to buy some music so I can learn a song. That idea, of learning to sing a song, seemed so far away a couple of weeks ago. Life goes on, but in the midst of tragedy how am I supposed to feel?

This is light but weird. This afternoon, the kids and I walked into Keswick Village (the little town square in Glenside). I thought I'd buy them a treat for getting out of the house so quickly this morning. After our pretzels (and if you've tasted Philly pretzels, you'll know they are a treat), we stopped in at the used clothing store. My son tried on a pair of pants and got locked in the bathroom. The poor woman who ran the store tried everything to open the door. It took a good 20 minutes to pry the door open. I felt so bad for the poor woman, and my son (who held it together quite nicely but cried when he got out), and my daughter (who was visibly upset). I knew we'd get him out but if you're a kid locked in the bathroom, I guess it's pretty scary. Luckily, we had gummy bears when we got home. Gummy Bears solve a lot.

Except when Gummy Bears are soaked in vodka. When we had our big snow storm, a neighbor came by with vodka-soaked Gummy Bears and they were the most disgusting thing I have ever tasted.

I digress but right now, thinking about those gummy bears, I feel yucky. But not so yucky because I found Inherit the Wind on TV and I've never seen it (good to be me!).

So, Joe, I'm not sure I could rate myself right now. Ever have one of those days?

Sand Castles

I've been having weird dreams this past week about Candide. They usually occur right before I wake up. I'll be dreaming about a point in the play and I'll think, 'Oh, I should check that out next time I watch the production.'

Then, I wake up and realize that it's all over and I'll never see it again. It reminds me of the acceptance speech Robert Altman gave at the Oscars a few years ago when he won an honorary Oscar. He compared his style of movie making to building a sand castle with friends and then watching the tide come in and wash it away; all that's left are the memories of a great day. My only issue with that comparison is that with a movie, at least one has the finished product preserved for all time on celluloid.

But the comparison holds true for theater. Never again will I have the chance to watch Candide as it was staged at the Arden Theatre. All I have left are the memories of the production. The tide in the form of the strike crew has come in and washed away the set and costumes and lights and left the sand for another production to build on.

I feel that life is like that as well. We go through stages that sometimes evoke great emotions and then after we're through that stage, we are left with the memories. I visited a friend from People's Light earlier this week who has 2 young children. As I chatted with her and played with her toddler I was nostalgic for when my children were that young and we had all these years ahead of us. Now, my children are a bit older and we've built several sand castles together and they are starting to build their own as well.

I ache when I think back on some of my memories; I ache to relive the emotion that I felt at the time. The joy in my daughter riding a bicycle, the proud sadness of watching my son go to school, the laughter around a fire on a lazy Sunday afternoon. These moments form the path of our lives and in these moments and many others--those that fraught with deep emotions like a funeral or a wedding--that we form our true selves.

Theater, I think, gives us access to those emotions as well as many others; grief, anger, despair to name a few. For the short span of a play or musical, we connect and identify with the emotional lives of the characters and recognize in them something of our own lives. Often, it is through this recognition, that we discover new ideas and new ways of seeing ourselves and the world around us. And yet, after the final curtain, the tide washes the play out to sea and we have our memories.

So, while Candide has left with the tide, I will always remember it fondly because it has changed the way I see myself as a Stage Manager. I have a new found confidence; I no longer shrink with insecurity at what I don't know because I realize I have the knowledge within me to figure it out.

But now, it's time to build other sand castles.