I am continuing whatever this is that I’m doing.
I was in a terrible Outdoor Summer Musical Historical dinner theatre production. ( Basically every adjective I hate in combination with the word “theatre”) That experience was the beginning of what I now think is the second biggest mistake of my life. I’m hoping I will be able to get all of the horribles into some semblance of order eventually, but the Sandstone Productions of the summer of 2001 are definitely somewhere near the top.
The two plays that ran on alternate nights were Historical Dramas about the Four Corners region and the development of the City of Farmington, NM. (Waiting for Guffman is not nearly as funny when it’s you.) One play covered the span of the mid 1800’s to the early 1900’s. The other was 1910-ish to the 1950’s (Maybe, it was a little unclear to me.)
I should have realized how dreadful it was all going to be at the onset. My audition wasn’t the greatest. The AAGTH had flown in one of his adulterous she-beasts from out of town and she was lurking around at the back. I found this unnerving because who brings their own skank to an audition?
Still I think I did well, because I made it to call backs. I couldn’t attend said call backs because AATGH had borrowed my car to take the she-beast on a camping trip because they felt uncomfortable boning away her wedding vows in the same house in which I resided.
I was still cast in this play and after being told that I was not right to play the part of the Hispanic Woman in her thirties, (Yes, the director looked into my little brown face and said hat.) I was shuffled around into a number of parts and landed in two similar roles. I played the Wife of White Eagle in one play and the Wife of Two Mules in the other.
I called myself Stands on Porches.
The whole point behind this story is that in one of the plays, the outsiders, a shop keeper and his wife who save the Son of White Eagle, are invited to be a a part of a ceremony, thus marking the moment in which they are considered family. Prior to the ceremony, my character sat on a blanket next to the shopkeeper who took that opportunity to wax poetic on the constancy of change. This went on every night for about six weeks until it finally occurred to the actor that my character’s grasp of the English Language was limited to the few words that I spoke earlier in the show. The actor looked at me that night and mouthed the words, “You have no idea what I’m talking about.” I smiled beatifically and nodded.
The reason I told this story is that as I am ending what I hoped would be a year of complete change has turned into a slight drift forward. As I may have mentioned (Yes I could just look back at something I’ve written and find out, but we all know I’m too lazy for that.) I am going to start cobbling together a memoir.
I don’t know where to start and all I could think of was Dave Huber saying, “The only constant in life is change.”
That and the fact that I have completely lost my voice and am wondering if I can do tomorrow’s story time through interpretive dance without frightening the children is the only thing weighing on my mind.