I’d like to speak to the manager!!!
Blest be the tie that binds.
Our hearts in Christian love.
I learned of this hymn when I played Simon Stimson in Thorton Wilder’s Our Town in high school.
I think back on all the plays that I made my parents sit through. Oklahoma. Twice. Midsummer’s Night Dream. The Oresteia. The Nutcracker. Romeo and Juliet. Carmen with scaffolding.
I also think back to how many of these shows were two plus hours longer than they needed to be. I can’t imagine anything more painful, than watching high schoolers perform Our Town in a cafetorium.
I can say, however, that all the kids involved had a blast. I formed one of my closest high school friendships with the girl who played Mrs. Webb, who’d never been in a play before. In fact, the following year she wrecked my car, while we were on our way to the midnight showing of Rocky Horror. For only $1.
Good or bad, I always enjoyed being a part of the process. Theater builds friendships and relationships, unlike anything else I’ve ever participated in. It requires you to reveal parts of yourself that might otherwise go unnoticed. Or you might not otherwise want shared. I think it’s why so many LGBTQ kids end up joining the drama club. Even as a designer, you make relationships that are strong and weird. I believe the only thing that comes close to matching these relationships are restaurant relationships, which also might explain why theater people end up waiting tables. Teching a show is akin to working Sunday brunch hungover.
Back to Simon Stimson.
He was the choir director and organist at the local Grover’s Corner Congregational Church. He was also a troubled alcoholic. And it’s thought that he might be a closeted homosexual. He ends up in Act 3 because he committed suicide, becoming a resident of the cemetery.
I can assure you that we did NOT discuss any of this in my high school production. I was taught how to conduct in 4/4 time. I was told to stumble across the stage as if I was drunk. I’d never been drunk so I mimicked Otis Campbell from Andy Griffith. I don’t think they were the same kind of drunk, and definitely not for the same reasons.
I also remember being terrible bored in the third act. I had six lines and then I was supposed to be interested in the rest of the action. I remember getting sleepy. Whoops. I might have stayed awake if I’d known I was a tormented homosexual, who could play the organ. HEHE.
As I type this, I realize it’s not the only time I was forced to “act” in a cemetery. I was also in a college production of Spoon River Anthology, a play with music. I sat on a stump. I had five or six monologues. I don’t think I was gay in any of them. I do know that by then I was a serious “actor” so I didn’t get sleepy. Instead, I focused on my next lines. I remember one night not being able to remember the Latin phrase at the end of one of my monologues. I got up and said the lines, and wouldn’t you know, it slipped out, just like I had rehearsed it. Crisis averted. Although I didn’t get sleepy in this performance, I’m sure my parents counted the minutes till curtain call.
The last play that my mother saw that I worked on was Twilight of the Golds. I designed this show in San Diego, a week before I graduated from UCSD with my MFA in lighting design. It was playing when my mother and my brother flew out for my graduation. I had dinner with my friends who were there, and then I’d bought tickets for 12 of us to see the show. I didn’t really think about the subject matter until I was sitting in my chair waiting for the show to start.
I have no idea what my mother thought about this show. In 2006, I had not told her I was gay. I was 41. I’m sure she knew. But I had never discussed it with her. The show started. The drama happened. The show came down. The design of the show was nice. And I was proud to have my friends see it. At least it wasn’t in a cafetorium.
I have no idea where I’m going with this story. I just got off the phone with one my bestest friends from Kentucky, Trish Clark, who I did a million shows with. Which sent me down memory lane. She’s definitely one of those relationships that changed my life because we did theater together.
I have many of these friends. These friendships are those that you pick right up with, when you haven’t spoken in 20 years. There are so too many to count. They are the foundation of who I am at 61. In so many different segments of my life. High School. Grad School at UK. Grad School at CCM. Teaching at SCPA. Grad School at UCSD. Freelance at LOOK, City Theater, KOTH, and in NYC.
I really count myself lucky that I have had so many lifetimes. Once again too many too count. What’s really awesome is that my new job, would allow me to do theater in the off season. I’m really excited about the thought of designing a show next winter locally. Who knows, I may ask my local friends to come see a three hour production of King Lear, in a community production.
And you better show up.
Blest be the tides that bind.
The official hymn of theater folk.
My prompt was necktie. I may have gone a little off track.
I’d like to speak to the manager!!!
Blest be the tie that binds.
Our hearts in Christian love.
I learned of this hymn when I played Simon Stimson in Thorton Wilder’s Our Town in high school.
I think back on all the plays that I made my parents sit through. Oklahoma. Twice. Midsummer’s Night Dream. The Oresteia. The Nutcracker. Romeo and Juliet. Carmen with scaffolding.
I also think back to how many of these shows were two plus hours longer than they needed to be. I can’t imagine anything more painful, than watching high schoolers perform Our Town in a cafetorium.
I can say, however, that all the kids involved had a blast. I formed one of my closest high school friendships with the girl who played Mrs. Webb, who’d never been in a play before. In fact, the following year she wrecked my car, while we were on our way to the midnight showing of Rocky Horror. For only $1.
Good or bad, I always enjoyed being a part of the process. Theater builds friendships and relationships, unlike anything else I’ve ever participated in. It requires you to reveal parts of yourself that might otherwise go unnoticed. Or you might not otherwise want shared. I think it’s why so many LGBTQ kids end up joining the drama club. Even as a designer, you make relationships that are strong and weird. I believe the only thing that comes close to matching these relationships are restaurant relationships, which also might explain why theater people end up waiting tables. Teching a show is akin to working Sunday brunch hungover.
Back to Simon Stimson.
He was the choir director and organist at the local Grover’s Corner Congregational Church. He was also a troubled alcoholic. And it’s thought that he might be a closeted homosexual. He ends up in Act 3 because he committed suicide, becoming a resident of the cemetery.
I can assure you that we did NOT discuss any of this in my high school production. I was taught how to conduct in 4/4 time. I was told to stumble across the stage as if I was drunk. I’d never been drunk so I mimicked Otis Campbell from Andy Griffith. I don’t think they were the same kind of drunk, and definitely not for the same reasons.
I also remember being terrible bored in the third act. I had six lines and then I was supposed to be interested in the rest of the action. I remember getting sleepy. Whoops. I might have stayed awake if I’d known I was a tormented homosexual, who could play the organ. HEHE.
As I type this, I realize it’s not the only time I was forced to “act” in a cemetery. I was also in a college production of Spoon River Anthology, a play with music. I sat on a stump. I had five or six monologues. I don’t think I was gay in any of them. I do know that by then I was a serious “actor” so I didn’t get sleepy. Instead, I focused on my next lines. I remember one night not being able to remember the Latin phrase at the end of one of my monologues. I got up and said the lines, and wouldn’t you know, it slipped out, just like I had rehearsed it. Crisis averted. Although I didn’t get sleepy in this performance, I’m sure my parents counted the minutes till curtain call.
The last play that my mother saw that I worked on was Twilight of the Golds. I designed this show in San Diego, a week before I graduated from UCSD with my MFA in lighting design. It was playing when my mother and my brother flew out for my graduation. I had dinner with my friends who were there, and then I’d bought tickets for 12 of us to see the show. I didn’t really think about the subject matter until I was sitting in my chair waiting for the show to start.
I have no idea what my mother thought about this show. In 2006, I had not told her I was gay. I was 41. I’m sure she knew. But I had never discussed it with her. The show started. The drama happened. The show came down. The design of the show was nice. And I was proud to have my friends see it. At least it wasn’t in a cafetorium.
I have no idea where I’m going with this story. I just got off the phone with one my bestest friends from Kentucky, Trish Clark, who I did a million shows with. Which sent me down memory lane. She’s definitely one of those relationships that changed my life because we did theater together.
I have many of these friends. These friendships are those that you pick right up with, when you haven’t spoken in 20 years. There are so too many to count. They are the foundation of who I am at 61. In so many different segments of my life. High School. Grad School at UK. Grad School at CCM. Teaching at SCPA. Grad School at UCSD. Freelance at LOOK, City Theater, KOTH, and in NYC.
I really count myself lucky that I have had so many lifetimes. Once again too many too count. What’s really awesome is that my new job, would allow me to do theater in the off season. I’m really excited about the thought of designing a show next winter locally. Who knows, I may ask my local friends to come see a three hour production of King Lear, in a community production.
And you better show up.
Blest be the tides that bind.
The official hymn of theater folk.
My prompt was necktie. I may have gone a little off track.
I'd Like to Speak to the Manager!!! 