Summer Update

It's been awhile since Ellen or I have posted an entry here. Having read over the last post I suppose I should say a few words about the final performances of The Good Person of Szechwan.


It feels like forever ago. Thinking back to how intense everything was on the night of our Friday show is...startling.

As it worked out I woke up at about 10 am the next morning, not having had a whole lot of sleep, but definitely well rested. I talked to Ellen, on the phone, for a few minutes and told her that I thought I could make the 12 pm call for the 2 pm show. I still felt a bit delicate--well, O.K. really quite delicate. But, it's the oldest saying in the book of performance: the show must go on.

My mother drove me to the theater, where we arrived almost a full minute early.

I don't want to get into too much detail on the morning I, and everyone around me, had. Write it off as pretty normal for a show. There were high-running emotions, misplaced props, vocal warm ups, me holding my belly and trying not to be ill, more misplaced props, my suicidal contact lens that ripped itself in half while in my eye, notes from the director, bottled water to be found for people, tears shed, more of me holding my belly and trying not to be ill, and the usual excited whispers counting down to that evening when, for better or for worse, we'd be done with the play.

We had a good matinee. We also had a kind, though small, audience. I think we agreed later that it ended up being, quite possibly, our best show. It was just one of those times. Everyone had energy, chemistry, and fun. We put ourselves out there and our audience embraced us. Actually, there really was a lot of hugging that day. We hugged each other backstage, whispering support to each other. We hugged the audience, many of whom were family or friends, but still. And we hugged ourselves at the end of the show, proud of a job well done. Then we had lunch.

For lunch we separated into a few different clusters. Some people went to a diner with some friends outside of Theater. A few ate in at the P.A.C.E.'s cafe. I was with 3 other people who had a small adventure in Easthampton. Somehow we lost ourselves in the smallest town center I've ever been set loose in. We were unable to locate a restaurant to our liking, or at least, one that was open. And we were almost forced to ask a wedding party for directions. Little do they know how close they were to bewilderment and inconvenience.

After about half an hour of this we ended up at the little supermarket 341 ft away from P.A.C.E. There we four wandered in happy indecision for awhile longer. I'm afraid I can't remember what the other 3 bought in the end. I found, after careful thought, that the only thing that would keep me happy (and in full possession of my lunch) was a small box of pre-cooked, spicy chicken strips (the one without the MSG) and a bag of Goldfish crackers. And I was right. I was happy.

I dubbed it Fish 'n' Chick'.


During a lazy lunch break we sat in P.A.C.E.'s cafe and day-dreamed about next year's class. We thought of ways to reorganize things, ways to enable our 2 members who have moved out of state to come back to us, and what sort of play we would do next. We lay back and listened to Ellen describe the new organization of the 2 theater classes. It all sounded so perfect, so dreamy. Every so often we get to have a sort of Story Time. A time when we all dream about the future. Where you listen to Ellen describe the world as it should be. As it will be. It's a time for wishes and plans and misty eyes.

After lunch we collected ourselves and got back to the business of making theater. Saturday night drew a good crowd and we did a good show. I'll leave a more detailed analysis of our work to people like Ellen. For myself: the show is in the past, it was acceptable to me as a performer. While I might, of course I might, like to work on certain things to really make them shine, I know that I can't. That show (with that cast and that crew) is in the past. I'm O.K. with that.

And that was the end of it. Our company had it's first full strike (well, pretty full) and we left the place clean and tidy. Of course that makes it sound calm. Strike (which is when you take down the set, pack away your props and costumes, and basically high-tail it out of your theater with all you possess) is not a calm thing. It can be well-organized. It can even be efficient. Calm does not apply.

We rushed around collecting all our junk together. We disassembled our set pieces, rolled up cords, wires, and string. Chairs and tables were returned to the previous cabaret setup that P.A.C.E. keeps. We piled up every single mask worn in the play. We stacked buckets filled with bits and pieces, organized our little costume bits, moved Matt Merkel's sound equipment into his car, got our own possessions in order for the carpool to the Cast Party, and did various other tiny and essential things.

And we were really done.

We had our Cast Party and did the usual: drank all the ginger ale, shared jokes, danced like crazy in a very small space. It's how we don't go crazy after a show. I think the removal of the Cast Party after our productions might lead to serious internal injury. If not an eventual comatose state. Yes, we have that much energy that needs to be gotten rid of.

And that was the end of the year. Most of us saw each other for a few more weeks, while participating in various North Star events and activities. But when summer comes we have a habit of spreading ourselves out over New England.

And summer? Well, my summer--Pioneer Valley-bound, as I have been--has largely been devoted to helping North Star move. That's right, last week we had an official Moving Day. A bunch of people related to North Star came and loaded things into pick-up trucks and minivans and drove one block down Route 9 to our new location. We now live at 135 Russell Street in Hadley, MA. You should come visit us.

But Moving Day was not the beginning or end of it. For last couple of months I, and many others, have been helping North Star's wonderful Associate Director, Catherine Gobron, in fixing up the new building. As a group we've primed, painted, spackled, sealed, sanded, de-carpeted, re-floored, hammered, un-screwed, scraped, scrubbed, and sorted the building to its present beauty. There's still a lot more to do, there always is, but it's looking wonderful so far.

I divided my time today between painting the future men's bathroom and organizing the library. In the library I worked with Matt Merkel (our all-round sound guy) and Oliver (a North Star member who steadfastly refuses to participate in Theater Class, in any way at all.) We worked hard, trying to get things set for Friday. Friday's a big day because on Friday we show off North Star. It's a big pizza / organizing party. People are lured in by promises of food, drink and a tour of the building. While they're there we put them to good work. Everyone wins. Except, possibly, the pizza. But I've had too many whimsical debates over the ethics of eating hypothetically-sentient food to go into this too far. We just always end with that same old restaurant. You know the one.