Life Lessons from HS Theatre
written March/April 2003
ACT ONE
“Et tu, Brute!”
- Julius Caesar, Shakespeare
Almost a decade ago I reached a fork in the road. One path led me long to where I am today, the other to places unknown.
High school came at a time in my life when I was highly introverted and backward. I knew that I wanted to find a group of people to ‘belong’ to–somewhere to fit in–and it wasn’t long before I found my niche. A Casting Call for the winter production, A Christmas Carol, caught my attention. Acting sounded like fun so I showed up for the auditions. Much to my dismay, so did half the school. Fortunately I got the part, though a small one, acting as Mr. Fezziwig (whom you will recall was Ebeneezer’s old boss in the Christmas Past scene) and also a Child of Ignorance and Want (which is a rather obscure part, but nonetheless fitting). I had several lines and was the lead in a dance routine with Mrs. Fezziwig (a bubbly girl named Sharon Brochin). This is where I developed my love for theatre.
We quickly became a family. The cast and crew spent an inordinate amount of together doing vocal and stretching exercises, line rehearsal, stage blocking, and just plain having fun. We painted set pieces, hung lighting, and raised support. I met people that I still consider good friends… Jennifer Hickman, Shannon Gardiner, Scott Halberstadt, Todd and Lynn Goodner, and so many others. I had found a support group. There was finally a place in my peer group that I could fit in. There was no looking back!
Tri-Epsilon! That was the name of our Drama troupe. In greek it stands for “Ep Ep Ep”, I believe. There is a joke there somewhere. Cindy Haston was our coach, and she did more than teach us acting - she taught us about ourselves. Even today I am not exactly sure how she did it, but she made me believe in myself again. I began to realize that I had worth and something to contribute. Looking back on that time in my life I wonder why I found something in theatre that I didn’t find in the Church?
ACT TWO
“Not all those who wander are lost.”
- J.R.R. Tolkien, Lord of the Rings
In a matter of weeks, I knew I had found my place. Not necessarily the place where I belonged, but the place I wanted to be. It would be much later in life before I would realize that sometimes we belong in places where we’re not wanted (and don’t belong in places where we are wanted). But I digress….
I learned a lot of things that first semester of Freshman year. Most importantly, I learned that High School theatre isn’t as much about talent and acting as it is about belonging. These people accepted me at a time when I wasn’t accepting myself. I remember Ben. Ben was the loner… the older guy (which meant he was a Senior) who was on the fringe (even for drama people). I immediately liked Ben. On the surface he was very easy-going and cordial. He was also the first person I knew that dyed their hair regularly… I still don’t know what his true color was.
Lynn Goodner III was the unelected leader of our group. He was a Senior and had been in drama for four years, which meant he knew the most and we all looked up to him. Lynn had a great sense of humor and was always laughing or smiling about something. Lynn was our Stage Manager and had one of those shaggy bowl haircuts that were rather popular at the time… though it looked kinda slouchy on him. His younger brother, Todd, was also involved. Together they formed a kind of upper-level social class… but they never made the rest of us feel as though we were lower class.
Todd Goodner and Scott Halberstadt were close friends. Scott was my idol. He was a sophomore and already the best actor in our High School. We all knew that Scott would secure the leads in all future plays and go on to do great things if he stuck with his passion. Scott’s passion was theatre. Many people enjoy theatre, some love it, but Scott was passionate about it. I immedately liked Scott. He was funny, quick-witted, smart, and had a love for theatre that none of us could even begin to approach. He made an excellent Bob Cratchitt, and I made it a point to pay close attention to everything that he did. I have forgotten many things about him, but one memory remains strong… his love for Genesis. This was my first true exposure to early 80’s secular music. I can remember building sets with the sounds of Phil Collins echoing around the auditorium. Those were great times.
There were so many others, but the only ones that are worth mentioning are ‘the girls’ as I liked to call them. Shannon, Sharon, Jane, and Jeniffer became quick and close friendstp me. We spent many afternoons waiting in the wings for our minor roles on stage to require our attention. I have long forgotten what we talked about, but I will be forever grateful for the ministry they had in my life. You see, they were all Christians. And besides the fact that they were beautiful young ladies (and those are few and far between in theatre), they kept me grounded. It still seems odd to me that God chose a couple of Baptists, an Episcopal, and a Catholic girl to keep me grounded in Him and the church. I was still naive though, and theatre still had many beautiful and brutal lessons to teach….
ACT THREE
“Carpe Diem, lads! Seize the day! Make your lives extraordinary!”
- Dead Poet’s Society
Those final few weeks had been filled with rehearsals, construction, and publicity. We spent our afternoons in the auditorium and regularly stayed late into the night. We had become a family. I had found my love.
Opening Night was the stuff that dreams were made of! I can remember Mom pulling up at the building to drop me off (I was not of driving age yet) and she told how much she loved me and how proud of me she was, then she said “Break a leg!” I gave her a funny look and she replied, “you aren’t supposed to wish ‘good luck’ to someone in theatre.” I considered myself an authority on drama but had never heard this before. I still am not sure I’ve ever asked her how she knew that. But it made an impression on me that lasts to this day.
High School Theatre is a mix of social club and religious sect. I liken it to what I imagine the Masonic Lodge to be like. There is much hierarchy, tradition, symbolism, and ceremony. Even the Men’s dressing room was a sort of sanctuary. Hundreds of people from decades past had used that room to prepare for their curtain call… and we were all cognizant of the weight that was upon our shoulders. Things happened in that dressing room (as I am sure happen in all of them) that cannot be spoken of. But the memories will last a lifetime.
1 hour to curtain. The make-up had been applied. The costumes had become our clothing. And the men stood in a solemn circle in the smallish dressing room. It was cinderblock with egg-yellow paint, strewn with costumes and props from plays past. It smelt of time and must. Lynn broke the silence. He spoke of the importance of opening night, and the traditions that surrounded it. The new people were to be initiated. Fear set in. We were to be given a name… a designator that only the men in the room would ever know…. then we were to receive a wedgie. (Remember, this is high school). Lynn said it with a straight face, the upperclassmen all had somber faces, and no one laughed or snickered. This was serious, and we all knew it. I received my new title–Monkey–and my wedgie. (I tell you the name because a decade has passed and I think I am safe from the retribution of Lynn or the drama gods).
30 minutes to curtain. Women. We were now a part of another circle. The Women’s dressing room was at least four times as large as ours. This seems appropriate. But in a stroke of justice it was also four times as crapped-out as ours was. Now the smell was time, must, perfume, and Aqua-Net. The Director praised us and encouraged us. She spoke of commitment and the importance of theatre. Others in the group also spoke of dedication and love. Then we all said our chant, and every lip fell silent until curtain….
15 minutes to curtain. The Stage Manager called “Places!” and we left the dressing room to take our positions. As was tradition, no one in the cast would speak again until their first line. And hopefully they would have no problem doing so! As I stood behind the Proscenium in the Stage Right wing, so many thoughts went through my head. I knew my family would be in the audience, friends too. Teachers and others would also be in attendance. I prayed that I would not forget my lines (all 7 of them, I believe) or trip and fall. I looked down and noticed that I was wearing a frilly shirt with puffed sleeves, knickers, leggings, and clogs (not to mention enough make-up to make Mary Kay proud). I decided to pray that there would be no cameras in the audience… and with that the lights dipped, the curtain pulled, and the show began.
Curtain. “Marley was dead. Dead as a doornail.” I had always wanted to say that line, but being a freshman with mediocre talent there was no way I was going to snag the part of Scrooge or Cratchit. I was fortunate to have any part at all! Scrooge was played by a senior, whose name I have long since forgotten. I remember that he was a ‘fringe-guy’ and kind of scared me a little. He always spoke of reefer or weed, and always seemed to have a disconnectedness that could only have come from drug abuse in my estimation. He was a great actor and was a perfect fit for the part. Tonight though, he had done something dumb: sniffed smarties. I had NEVER heard of this, but I guess its the poor man’s crack? Who knows. But he had done it, apparently, and this evening our Scrooge had a noticeable sniffle during the show. What an idiot.
12 Minutes in. I took a step forward and found it wasn’t as hard as I thought that it would be. I took another and enjoyed this one more. The third took me into a large pool of light. The rest led me to center stage. “Why Ebenezer! Welcome to the Fezziwig Christmas Party! So nice to see you!!” Breathe Kevin. Breathe. “Mrs. Fezziwig, come see who’s here!” Don’t lock your knees. “Ebenezer, join us in a dance won’t you?” Please God, don’t let me screw this up… On Man! Why did I do this?!? “Start the Music!!!!” And with that we were off, Sharon and I leading half the cast in a makeshift Christmas Waltz. Just thank God its not on tape (to my knowledge at least). And as soon as it had begun, it ended. Exit Stage Right.
55 minutes in. Many in the cast had dual roles. I was not exempt. “Children of Ignorance and Want” was what the playbill said. I and six other members of the cast had a part to play in Scrooge’s encounter with the Ghost of Christmas Future. I had a line during this section. Emphasis on HAD. “Some would rather die… and some would rather kill.” I was to say, “And some would rather kill”. Easy enough… but it wasn’t. I couldn’t say “kill”. When I tried it came out “keeell”. And every time I said “And and some would rather keeell” in rehearsal the whole stage cast would giggle. Eventually the Director took the line from me because my accent was a little too Kentucky for an Indiana play… so I was simply eye candy. Granted, eye-candy in a black Grim Reaper robe with 6 other people in Grim Reaper robes. But you know what I mean.
86 Minutes in. The lights dipped, curtain dropped, and crowd roared. Opening night was over. The lights came up full and the curtain parted one last time as we all made our way out for the final curtain call. I briskly walked out on stage from Stage Right, meeting Mrs. Fezziwig who mirrored me from Stage Left. Our hands clasped together, we took a deep bow and split. I caught a glimpse of my parents (who were broadly smiling) and I felt a sense of accomplishment and pride. Other came, and finally Scrooge entered (with a Kleenex) to thunderous applause. And the curtain fell.
90 Minutes. We bolted for the back stage doors. Every member of the cast and crew broke into a dead sprint immediately when the curtain clasp closed. Like rats from a burning building we ran for the exit, cut left at the outer doors and formed a gangly group of runners trying to get to the lobby before the crowd. There was pushing, and shoving, and laughing as we began to release the tension that had been building for months.
91 Minutes. The crowd began to filter out of the theatre. And when they arrived in the lobby they found the cast (that had only moments ago been on stage) now waiting for them in the foyer. We met each others families, accepted praise and accolades, and hugged our parents. This was the pay-off.
Like a wild animal who acquires a taste for blood, I was hooked ; Live theatre had me in its grip.
ACT FOUR
“Honour and shame from no condition rise;
Act well your part, there all the honour lies.”
- Alexander Pope, “An Essay on Man” Epistle IV, 1733-34
My first play was over, the final curtain call was behind us, and the cast party (swingin’ as it was) had also come to an end. What was I to do with myself? It felt as though I had lost my family. So much of myself had poured in that play, it felt as though its end also meant a part of me had died. That was not far from the truth.
The following months seemed to drag on without end as I waited for the spring play. My high school did two a year, and I prayed that I had done well enough in the first to rate a part in the second. As auditions neared we learned that the play was to be “The Nerd,” a piece that I’d never heard of (which should not surprise you) but that I liked from the first time I read through it. The play surrounds a man who’s life is suddenly interrupted by an old friend, Rick Steadman, who is the classic definition of a nerd. Rick moves in for two weeks, innocently (and unwittingly) terrorizing his friend - driving him to the point where he and his friends devise a plan to rid themselves of the Nerd. The trio resorts to staring at apples, eating warm water and cottage cheese, pretending to be farm animals, and piggyback riding. Rick, however, joins in the fun and the plan is a total disaster. The play is hilarious and has a good twist to the end. In short, I fell in love with it and immediately wanted a part.
The cast requirements were small. Only 4 men and 3 women… which meant that there would be severe competition. But somehow I landed a part! And no, I was NOT the Nerd.
Warnock Waldgrave was my character, a rather stiff and old-school boss to one of the other characters. The part was rather large (all of them were) and I was pretty proud of myself. I still felt pretty out of place among these upperclassmen whom I considered to be better actors… but I tried to hold my ground. Having a smaller cast and a larger part did wonders for my self-esteem though, and I was learning a ton about theatre too.
This could possibly be one of the most enjoyable times of my life. I finally felt plugged in to a peer group. I had found something that I was good at and enjoyed doing. This script called for a lot of great one-liners, sarcastic asides, and physical comedy. I was in heaven. The climax of the plot came when The Nerd, his host, and the houseguests were playing a made up game with cottage cheese. In an act of symbolism the throw buckets of cottage cheese out a window, under which my character happens to be standing. I will never forget those three days of my Freshman year in high school when I had a five gallon bucket of cottage cheese poured on top of me (while wearing a jet-black suit), then entering the stage to the laughs and hysterics of the audience.
Although the bit was hilarious, it took years before I could stand the smell of cottage cheese (even longer to stomach it). My love for drama, though, was not soon to wane.
ACT FIVE
“No Day but today”
- RENT
Sophomore year of High School was my year! This is where it all clicked. I had found a hobby that I loved, an activity that I was relatively good at, and more importantly, what I wanted to do with my life… Theatre!
By the end of freshman year I had made a name for myself in my theatre troupe, Tri Epsilon. While I was an average actor, in my own estimation, I brought other things to the table. My attention to detail and ability to get things done had elevated me to a more notable position among my fellow thespians. I was elected to the position of Secretary in our troupe and also became Publicity Director for the productions my Sophomore year (which believe it or not is a lot of work). I had been admitted to the International Thespian Society and would even end up attending their International Conference later that year.
The first play of that year was “Twain by the Tale.” This production was not like anything that I had ever been involved with. First, it wasn’t really a play as much as it was a collection of short stories (re: skits) that were adapted from Mark Twain’s writings and tightly woven into production that was both comedy and tragedy at its best. I auditioned and received several minor roles. While almost everyone had several roles in the production, I was a little disappointed that I didn’t get a larger part. But there were many excellent actors in our company. My friends were still all there and we became an even more tightly knit group, maybe even a little too tight. But I loved these people and we spent so much time together that it was almost impossible not to become joined at the hip.
Interestingly enough, this was also to be a dinner theatre, which was new to me. Tickets were more than double what their normal prices were, and we were to serve food immediately before the play began. This meant there would be a much smaller audience and a more intimate atmosphere. In fact, much of the action took place in the middle on the crowd. It was an extremely exhilarating experience! One of my parts was to play a Frenchman–King Henry–in a duel. It was difficult for me to try and speak with a french accent, but I eventually picked up enough of the dialect to be able to do a partial imitation. I even memorized the entire “Hail Mary” speech from one of my Catholic friends, Sharon, and was extremely proud that I had thought of this all by myself… using it under my breathe through the duel as my character became more and more fearful of dying during the event. I will leave it at that.
By this time I was taking more acting and theatre production courses, learning all that I could about theatre. I never really saw myself being talented enough to make a living acting (so few people ever really do, and I was way too pragmatic in high school) so I focused on learning publicity, lighting, set construction, and other areas of theatre to try and learn what I had a passion for. Unfortunately I found that I had a passion for all of it.
I didn’t think that I could find anything that I loved more that acting… but I was to be proven wrong yet again. The Spring were to bring with them some of the highest points in my theatre career, but they would be short lived. For now though, I was on an upswing that I hoped would never end…..
ACT SIX
“On the day when I left home to make my way in the world, my daddy took me to one side. ‘Son,’ my daddy says to me, ‘I am sorry I am not able to bankroll you to a large start, but not having the necessary lettuce to get you rolling, instead I’m going to stake you to some very valuable advice. One of these days in your travels, a guy is going to show you a brand-new deck of cards on which the seal is not yet broken. Then this guy is going to offer to bet you that he can make the jack of spades jump out of this brand-new deck of cards and squirt cider in your ear. But, son, do not accept this bet, because as sure as you stand there, you’re going to wind up with an ear full of cider.‘”
- Sky Masterson, Guys and Dolls
The lights came up on stage, the curtain was pulled, and music swelled from the orchestra that was set up in the pit below where I was standing. The intro was short. I took a deep breathe and jumped into the first line of the song with all of the bravado that I could muster: “I got the horse right here, his name is Paul Revere, and here’s a guy that says if the weather’s clear, ‘Can Do. Can Do.’ This guy says the horse ‘Can Do!‘” Then Skipp Whitlock, who was positioned next me, started his line and the show was off-and-running…. I couldn’t have been happier…. this was my moment!
Guys and Dolls is without a doubt one of the most brilliant (and liked) musicals ever created. It is a comedic story of love, money, and salvation set in New York City. The set and props are great, the dialogue is tremendous, and the music is so catchy you will find yourself singing it for weeks to come. The original play was a smash hit on Broadway in the 50’s which led to a movie starring Marlon Brando, Frank Sinatra, and Stubby Kaye. In the early 90’s Broadway revived it again, this time with Nathan Lane.
When I heard we were doing a musical, I was scared. Choir and music training had been a part of my life for as long as I could remember, but I was smart enough to know that musical theatre was much different than doing a solo in choir. I tried not to get my hopes but became more in love with the script the more I read it. I wanted to be in this musical (and secretly I wanted a good part). But was I good enough to make the cut?
Apparently I was. I didn’t get one of the lead roles, but instead received the top supporting role: Nicely-Nicely Johnson. I was mildly disappointed till we did our first read-through as the new cast. It was a phenomenal part… in fact, it was like type-casting! This was the greatest part in the entire play. Nicely-Nicely was the comedic sidekick to the lead role. He had the best lines, the funniest scenes, and the best songs. Nicely-Nicely was a good natured, scene-stealing, laugh-a-minute riot… and he was fat! I couldn’t believe my fortune. This was going to be great!!!
The following months of rehearsal were grueling. Who knew that a musical would be so much work!?! Not only did we have to learn our lines, cues, and stage direction… but we also had to learn choreography for the dance numbers (of which there were many) and musical numbers (which in plays tend to be very difficult musically). But it was enjoyable and I grew close to the cast and crew, as well as the coaches for acting, dance, and music.
I found myself relating to Nicely-Nicely Johnson in a way that I had not related to any of my other characters in plays long past. I saw that he was bubbly and joyful on the outside, but that it masked an inner seriousness. While Nicely-Nicely was the brunt of some jokes and not necessarily the star player, he was a huge player in the tapestry of the story. He was more a part of the story than showed on the surface. I got the impression that Nicely-Nicely’s seemingly shallow exterior hid an inner depth. THAT connected with me - and I put everything that I was into Nicely-Nicely Johnson. He was me. I was him.
“What’s happening all over? I’ll tell you what’s happening all over, Guys sitting at home by a television set who used to be something of a rover. That’s what’s happening all over.” I found myself singing again, a little later in the show. “When you see a guy reach for stars in the sky, You can bet that he’s doing it for some doll.” I couldn’t believe that I was singing the title song. This was a dream.
Words cannot fully express the extent to which I loved this production and felt completed by it. I simply could not fathom that theatre could be better than it was on this day. How could my drama career ever attain a height higher than this one? Sadly, it never would. These performances (this character) would be the pinnacle of my three years in theatre. I could not have known that the fat lady was singing… all I could still see ahead were limitless opportunities, but my hopes and dreams would soon be dashed. I was in for a rude awakening. For now though, I was king of the world.
“I dreamed last night I got on the boat to heaven, And by some chance I had brought my dice along, And there I stood, And I hollered, ‘Some one save me,’ but the passengers they knew right from wrong.” I was singing again. The musical was almost at its end and this was MY song. It was the musical climax of the show and the catchiest tune in the lot. Here was where Nicely-Nicely met religion, and the plot began to tie itself up. I continued, “For the people all said, ‘Sit down, sit down you’re rockin’ the boat.’” In the tenor and timbre of an old spiritual I belted as load and spiritual a melody as I could muster. There was no holding back. I wanted to make this song so incredible that it was worth the price of admission in its own right. “And as I laughed at those passengers to heaven. Ha ha ha! A great big wave came and washed me overboard. And as I sank, And I hollered, ‘Someone save me’ That’s the moment I woke up, Thank the Lord! And I said to myself, ‘Sit down, sit down you’re rockin’ the boat.’ And the devil will drag you under, With a soul so heavy you’d never float, Sit down, sit down, sit down, sit down, Sit down you’re rockin’ the boat.”
The number ended with enormous fanfare from the live orchestra. The cast froze as I hit the last high note and held for as long as my lungs could handle… seemingly 8 or more bars. I stole a glance around and the cast wore smiles, their hands in the air and their bodies in various states of religious contortion. I cut off the note and dropped my head to non-verbally cue the songs end. We all continued our frozen hold, waiting for a response, something, from the audience. Then the noise level in the auditorium soared as the crowd applauded and cheered our efforts. It was amazing! I began to laugh as the nervous tension began to escape me and allowed me to relax. The curtain pulled together and several of the cast dig-piled me in elation just after the fabric hid us from the audience. We were laughing and cheering each other as the adrenaline coursing through our bodies immediately took control of our senses. This was the greatest moment of my life.
ACT SEVEN
“I am a band geek I just never joined the band.”
- American Pie 2
I was king of the world! “Guys and Dolls” had just wrapped and I was on top of the world. I had held my own in the enormous shoes of Nicely-Nicely Johnson and there was lots of praise going around. Admittedly, I was pretty darn proud of myself too, though I would never have said as much. My Sophomore year was coming to a close and I was fitting in and making a name for myself. The success was to be short lived, yet I still could not see the roadblocks looming nearer.
In the quiet of my own time with God I have often prayed a certain prayer. This prayer is more an outgrowth of my own stubbornness rather than God’s unwillingness to lead me. “Lord, please widely open the doors that you have for me and slam in my face the ones you do not. Force me down the path you would have me walk.” I am a proud and stubborn man. Only lately am I admitting it to myself; God has always known as much.
Best Actor! I could not believe it when the announcement was made. This was a hotly contested award that normally went to an upperclassman. My peers had named me (in the role of Nicely-Nicely Johnson, Guys and Dolls) as the best actor for the 1993-94 School Year. Could there be anything better than this?? While outwardly I was as excited as I had ever been over receiving an award, inwardly I feared that my budding friendship with Scott might suffer (and while I was glad to be recognized, it seemed to me that he probably deserved it more).
That summer brought the International Thespian Festival. Being a member of the International Thespian Society, with recently attained Honor Thespian status, allowed me the opportunity to attend the Festival (but let’s be honest, it was also in large part because my parents scraped up the money to send me). The ITF brings together thousands of the top high school theatre students in the nation and drama professionals in an event that is both entertaining and educational. How’s that for an ad line!?! It was honor to be invited to attend, and to be able to do so with Scott H. (our local drama phenom).
This week at ITF was one that I will never forget. There were the girls who sat in front of Scott and I at the main conferences. They wore dog collars and sported purple-spiked hair. Oddly enough they were some of the most friendly girls I’ve ever known. There was “Mr. Sticky” who worked for 3M and taught us how their various products could revolutionize stage crafts. He was right. He did things with spray cans filled with glue, rubber, silicon, and foam that still keep me dreaming at night. I remember going to some dialect classes. Who knew that a Southern accent could be so difficult to pick up, but yet hot as heck to hear spoken? My favorite was the Clowning Class taught by teachers from the actual Barnum and Bailey Clown School. I learned prat-falls, fake trips, double takes, and other things that I still use in my everyday life (but most people who know me probably have no idea they came from here).
The social life was also quite active, as is almost always the case with drama folk. The extent of my participation consisted of walking halfway across the Ball State campus to a dance. It was being held in an enormous gymnasium that was dark and filled with teenagers. Being drama people, you can imagine the crowd. There were tons of people with dyed hair, black clothing, combat boots, tongue studs, tattoos, piercings, and other odd paraphernalia. I could count on my hand the number of people who did not fit in: one. Within about 2 minutes I realized that no matter how much I tried to fake it I was not going to fit in or feel comfortable in this atmosphere. I left the dance. I left the dance and in so doing left a chapter of my life behind… though it would be almost a year before I would let go of my dream.
This was one of those moments in my life - one of those times that changes everything in your life to come (only you don’t realize it at the time). I can only assume that it was God who set this chain of events in motion. The first in the series was the exit of Cindy Haston, my drama teacher. “Guys and Dolls” was her last production before she became Cindy Reed and moved to Indianapolis. It was a great time in her life but would be the first closed door in my own.
ACT EIGHT
“…you preaching Jesus is no different than Larry, or anybody else, preaching lubricants. It doesn’t matter whether you’re selling Jesus or Buddha or civil rights or how to make money in real estate with no money down. That doesn’t make you a human being. It makes you a marketing rep.”
- The Big Kahuna
Maria A., that was her name (or at least what I will call her). I was now a Junior and she was our new drama coach. MariaA was short and a little stocky, but she more than made up for her height with a bubbly personality and contagious smile. We all immediately liked her.
“The Diviners” was to be our first play under her direction. This seemed to be an odd choice considering our past lighthearted fare. “The Diviners” was set in the fictitious town of Zion, Indiana. A God-forsaken place off the beatin’ path where Ferris Layman, along with his children, is weathering a severe drought. Set in the farmlands of Indiana, 1930, a disillusioned preacher meets a disturbed young man (Ferris’ son) who lives in terror of water, even though he can “witch” water deep underground. Both funny and tragic, this play explores mystery, faith, and the meanings of baptism beyond the expected.
As I had done many times before, I auditioned for the play and then waited with great anticipation until the cast list was posted. I wasn’t sure whether or not I should be expecting a part in this play. There was a new Director, the script was very weird, and the play only called for 11 actors. I did get a part, playing Ferris Layman. It was not the lead but was still a very big part. Oddly enough, being cast in the play sealed my theatre career’s fate.
All began well but went downhill fast. It quickly became apparent that MariaA and I had severely divergent opinions on many issues. This should not have surprised me since approximately 1.03% of all Theatre people are Christians and even fewer are conservative. MariaA claimed to be a Christian, but she never claimed to be anything but liberal. We clashed on both accounts.
MariaA would speak of her college days (at a religious university) and how they would drink and smoke, etc., etc. And it always seemed as though these conversations only came up in my presence. Maybe they were trying to get a rise out of me (most of the time it did). I even remember one conversation where I was lambasted by her and other people in the cast for having standards, believing in absolutes, and thinking that there was only one way to God. I couldn’t believe that a ‘Christian’ would even question these things. (Remember, I was young and stupid). But our differences were not only religious and political, they were also philosophical. Cindy Haston had never asked us to use foul language on stage or drink (even pretend drinking was mostly taboo). MariaA believed in the purity and sacristy of the script and required it to be performed exactly as written. As if by the hand of God it just so happened that my character was very given to language and chewing tobacco. The language issue came up on the first day during the script readthrough when I skipped over the objectionable words. She stopped me and asked why I hadn’t read the dialogue as written. I said: Because we never have before and I wasn’t really planning to start now. (I imagined the look on my mom’s face if she heard me say @#$%^& in front of ‘God and everybody’). MariaA said we would discuss it later. We did… and she never gave up… and I never gave in.
This was the beginning of the end.
Several weeks later we dealt with the chewing tobacco issue. The script called for my mouth to be full of it all times and she wanted me to start getting used to it now (so I wouldn’t cough and gag during the play). At first I thought she was joking. I laughed loudly. That made her angry. She wasn’t joking at all. I received a verbal thrashing for not being committed, not following her authority, and for generally being an unlikable fellow. I said she could remove me from the cast, if she liked, but I would not use chewing tobacco under any circumstances. While I would use gum to simulate the effect, I would not cross this line and she might as well drop it.
MariaA hated me from then on…. Unfortunately, so did the others on the cast.
It became so bad that even the parents of some of the other cast members began deriding me for my insubordantion and apparent attitude problems. I remember one such instance where a father cornered me in the lobby of the auditorium and literally yelled at me for five minutes (YELLED) about my commitment, dedication, and treatment of his family. He ripped me up one side and down the other. I have never cried so hard, or hated theatre so much, as I did that day.
The dream died that day. If there was ever any remaining hope that I might continue down the road I was on, that day it was dashed to pieces.
Let me stop here for a moment and give two caveats: 1) For those from my past who might wander upon this and have actually been a part of these events…. I realize that this is only one sided I most likely did many things to deserve the treatment that I received. Blame is a two-way street. I do not dislike my fellow cast, disdain MariaA, or even hate the parents who hated me. In fact, quite the opposite, you were an instrument of God to course-correct my life. I have fond memories of all of you. 2) This is what real theatre is like. While it is an art, and even a love for those who give their lives to it, it’s also a passion. Theatre people are passionate. And people do things for their passions that they will not otherwise in good conscience do.
MariaA was passionate about Theatre, I was not. I was passionate about my spirituality and personal testimony, MariaA was not. Frankly, we failed each other. She was never able to allow my passions to be as important as hers…. and I was never able to allow her passions to be as important as my own.
I hated that play. I can admit that now. Hands down, those were the worst 8 weeks of my life. Oddly enough though, I thank God for that play and the pain it caused me. Without the valley, I would never have known what the mountain-top looked like.
ACT NINE
“Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more: it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.”
- William Shakespeare, from “Macbeth”
I had spoken my last line… taken my last bow. The curtain call had ended and my acting career was over. It’s bright gleam had been extinguished as quickly as it had flared. I was at once filled with joy and seared with pain.
Time and time again I travel in my mind’s eye back to those weeks. In “The Diviners” we are introduced to a boy named Buddy who became mentally handicapped after almost drowning as a toddler. Buddy’s mother died trying to save him. Because of the tragedy Buddy is mortally afraid of water, even bathing is out of the question. As an odd consequence of the event Buddy has the strange ability to sense the weather and ‘witch’ for water. As though he were a modern-day Jonah, C.C. Showers was on the run from God and himself. A backsliding preacher who was disenchanted with his profession, C.C. befriends Buddy. They become instant friends and connect with each other on a level that neither have experienced in other relationships. This leads to disastrous results. At the climax of the play, in a horrific attempt to regain his own worth and spiritual calling, C.C. Showers allows Buddy to drown while trying to save him.
Let that sink in… while trying to spiritually/emotionally save a handicapped boy who had become his friend, the Preacher goes too far and allows the boy to drown.
…it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing…
“Danger, Will Robinson. Danger!” Up until this point in my life I was sure that my future would take me into theatre as a career. Not once did I ever confer with God on this subject. Hindsight is mostly 20/20 and I realize now that I was headed down a path neither He nor I wanted for me. I’d let my own fervor and lust usurp better judgement though. God had to do extreme things to push me back in the right direction.
There was no question in my mind that this was the ‘fat lady singing’. Others wanted me out as much as I myself wanted free. Free of the pain. Free of the guilt. Free of the nagging of the Holy Spirit. They wanted to be rid of the conviction I caused in their lives as much as I wanted to be rid of the conviction that my life was on the wrong path.
The awards, the accolades and accomplishments, and all of the effort had come to nothing.
…Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more…
Stage make-up still clung to my face, sweat drenched my underclothes, and pain shot through my left leg due to a nasty tumble after curtain call. There was no one left in the auditorium. The stage would be struck tomorrow and with that “The Diviners”, along with my stage career, would be over. I intentionally drug out the process of cleaning out my drawer, I wanted to be the last one that left the building.
Walking out of the dressing room I looked across the empty stage and began to cry. So much of my life the last three years had been played out here. There was a stark contrast between the barrenness of the stage and my own emotion. Moving as slowly as I possibly could I began the long journey from the stage to the foyer. I passed by the Orchestra Pit that had helped play me to a Best Actor award less than a year ago. As row after row I passed, I lingered at each remembering family and friends who had set here and seen my performances in ages past. Finally moving from the auditorium to the foyer which had previously brought much pain in life now brought me to a smile. There was no bitterness here — not this night.
The long corridor outside of the theatre complex was quiet except for the sound of my lone footsteps lingering in the echo of cement block walls. This was the last time I would make this journey as this person. A chapter of life was left behind as those glass doors latched shut behind me. I saw it then as clearly as I do today. Emotion streamed down my face as I left that building for the last time as the person I was.
Like Buddy, I had to drown before I could be saved.
CURTAIN CALL
I feel as though I must post this. I am sad to say that I forgot about Kara T when I wrote about my experiences in High School Theatre (Parts 1-9 available in the Archives: March & April 2003). I knew immediately who she was when I read her name in my comments recently. I’ve posted her comment below because I think it an amazing piece of closure concerning my time in High School Theatre. I hope that someday may others will also find my site and let me know their whereabouts. Though Kara says, probably rightly, that we were not really friends. I do remember that she was brilliant, witty, always nice to me, and extremely fun to be around. I respected her a lot… she was very talented. “I stumbled across your site while doing a search for some names from the past. A search for Lynn brought me to your series on Tri-Ep. I enjoyed this walk down memory lane, though it??s something I rarely do. I even laughed out loud when I read about my best friend, Ben. (Who has natural blond hair, by the way…) Let me say that you have a very nice looking site with some good features and content. It??s also great to see that you are happy and successful in your chosen field. I attended the University of Indianapolis for my undergrad degree in Theatre. Lynn was a junior when I arrived in ??95 and Lenny arrived in ??97. We had a great time and mounted some amazing productions. Due to a lot of factors (most of which, I??m sure you??d rather remain ignorant) Lynn dropped out around ??98. Lenny dropped out at some point after I was gone. Of the trio, I was the only one who managed to graduate and go on to a career in the field. Ben, as you might have expected, spiraled downhill into a pretty pathetic existence. I??m sad to say that I don??t have any contact with these guys. I went on to be a stage manger and later I produced ??corporate? theatre/media events. (a discipline very similar to what you might see in one of your large churches) My work as a social justice activist, lead me away from the corporate world and in to public media support with an inner-city school system. I have transitioned from a single urbanite, to a suburban wife (of Chris) and mother (of Jasper). Don??t worry, I haven??t lost my edge… It was, as always, enlightening to see a shared experience through another person??s perspective. That journey is particularly meaningful when another??s experience differs 180 degrees from my own. I hope you will allow me to share two thoughts: #1-Ms. Agin was a hack. I can tell you that on sound professional credentials. Though my experience with her was different from yours, I wouldn??t dare to deny the importance your experience. Mistreatment of a student, by a teacher, is a breach of professionalism. But causing pain to a young person while they pursue the arts is an unforgivable offense in my book. Should any director change the words or content set down by a playwright? I agree with Maria here. 100% ABSOLUTELY NO! However, (and again I speak with professional authority here) it was (and is) her responsibility to choose material that will provides appropriate opportunities for students to learn and grow in the arts. It is my personal opinion that educators should challenge students, but it is imperative that they address a student??s individual needs and affirm their worth and dignity as fellow artist. #2- What the heck, Kevin? I know we were not friends, but looking at your posts, it breaks my heart to think that someone around me was in so much pain, and I was (we were) blissfully ignorant. If anything, I (and perhaps we) saw you struggling, but chocked most of it up to ??jovial? Kevin laughing along with us, despite the horrible taste of tobacco. Maybe you need this, and maybe you don??t ,but for what it??s worth- I??m sorry you had to hurt so bad. If given the chance, I??d transport back and give you a big hug. For now, I??ll just say, it was a pleasure to work with you. Break a leg. Kara T-C“ Don’t be a stranger Kara. It was good to hear from you and hear of your success. Jasper is lucky to have such a wonderful mother! Thanks for your insight and for bringing a bit of closure to me. We just never know what people are dealing with… and if I were able to go back and relive those days, I would get to know everyone a lot more (especially those I might have disagreed with). I even have some closure from Ms. A whom read those posts sometime back and got in contact with me. All in all, concerning HS Theatre, I regret that I did not love more, accept others no matter their state, and give all of myself to those around me. I will admit, though, that I am a better man today because of the good and bad of high school theatre. I would do it all again. I just would be less selfish (and pious) this time around. I hope, for better or worse, that I at least left some good behind with those that met me. I just wish I would have done more. God Bless You!
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