A Bug Bite That's Lasted 43 Years

43 years ago today, something very exciting happened. It was the opening night of my very first professional show. On July 25, 1974, The Music Man opened at Swift Creek Mill Playhouse. I was playing Amaryliss. I was paid $5.00 per show, and I believe the ticket prices back then were something like $14.50, and that included a delicious buffet dinner AND the show. And who could forget the wonderful loaves of Mill bread and fresh whipped butter, but I digress.
A little back story on what led to this moment. Picture it, Richmond, 1974, I was a 4th grade student at St. Catherine's School for girls playing to packed houses as the wife of the Shoemaker in The Shoemaker and the Elves. This role, of course, was given to me after an unforgettable performance the previous year as the Teeny Weeny Bean in Mr. MacGregor's garden in Peter Rabbit. My drama teacher, Gretchen Buis, told me about a theater that was holding auditions for The Music Man, and they needed a little girl my age. I had to sing a song, and they might have me read a scene. I wanted to do it, but it was my first real audition, and I had no idea what to expect. My sweet Daddy drove me down to Swift Creek Mill Playhouse in Colonial Heights. I don't remember much about the day, but I do remember walking up the steps and into the theater, through the house to the stage. I sang a song that I had sung in my church junior choir called, God Who Touchest Earth with Beauty. I can still see the cover of the anthem. It was olive green with a black peacock on the cover. If you asked me to sing the whole song right now, I could. And, no, Georgi Hicks and Jenna Stickley, I don't remember what I wore (inside joke). Later I read Amaryliss' scene. It called for her to cry. I must have done alright with the scene because I was cast. I didn't really know what it all meant back then. I had no idea what it would lead to. I just knew I liked doing plays. I didn't feel effected by it all. I didn't think I was special. I was just glad to be doing this cool thing. We started with music rehearsals with the late Wayne Batty at the helm as music director. Mr. Batty was, at the very least, intimidating. He looked exactly what you would expect a Maestro to look like with his brushed back, shoulder length hair. Amaryliss has a small duet with Marian, played by the lovely Lynn West, on Goodnight, My Someone. The first time I had to sing it in front of the whole cast. I was a little nervous, but everyone was as sweet as they could be. We went through weeks of music and then staging of the show, and I learned what blocking was and notes and all the things that now seem second nature to me. I had to learn to play this piano piece. I truthfully can't believe I did that, and, no, I couldn't play that now if you asked me. Finally it came time for opening. I obviously was not accustomed to the opening night tradition of dressing up. My family had gone to the circus at the Fairgrounds earlier that day, and I was dusty and ragged when I got to the show. I was wearing navy blue culottes with a red dotted mushroom appliqued on it. Take that, Georgi and Jenna. I wasn't playing Amaryliss on opening night. I alternated nights with another little girl, and she was doing Opening night, something that turned out to be a blessing in disguise as I was playing Amaryliss on the dress rehearsal night that all the promo shots were taken (See photo above). On the nights I wasn't Amaryliss, I was in the ensemble. I loved every minute of being in this show, all 5 months we ran. I made friendships that I still have today, and learned so much from the director, the late Buddy Callahan. I was bitten by the theatre bug back in 1974, and I have been in love with the theatre ever since. I have been lucky enough to consistently act in theatre and film for the last 43 years, and I have no intention of stopping anytime soon. In a little over a month, at 53, I will begin a new career of teaching music and drama to little ones. Maybe they can catch the bug from me, and the joy it has given me will spread through generations. I can only hope.

Lost Connection

It's been 12 years. Sitting in my office this morning and reading Facebook posts about 9/11, I was trying to think of what kind of post to write. I didn't want to repeat myself, so I searched my own blog for previous posts I had written on the subject. I started to just share a previous post I had written in 2010 because I thought it pretty much summed up the way I feel, but just as I was about to hit the share button on Facebook, I stopped, not because the feelings I wrote about then don't still ring true for me, they do, but the picture I paint of America in that post isn't quite the same. My status update today asks the question, "Where were you?" But digging deeper, how did you feel then, and how do you feel now? 12 years ago, technologically, we were in a very different world. We listened to those reports of the attacks on a radio, or watched a TV set if we happened to be near one. If we were separated from our loved ones, we could not physically see them unless we drove to where they were. Yes, cell phones existed, but you could not call someone and see their face and talk to them on the phone. You could not shoot off a quick text of "You ok?" in between classes or coming out of a meeting at work. Today, we can communicate with each other instantly, and even if you couldn't get a call through, everyone would tweet or post, "I'm ok. Sending out prayers and love to all who have lost someone."  and the world would know just what was going on in our life at that moment. But for all of our advances in connectivity since September 11, 2001, we seem to have lost our connection. As is often the case when a tragedy of that magnitude strikes, everyone is united by their grief, their shock, their anger, their pain. We all come together. Together. I have to say, sadly, if someone asked me, today,  to name a word that describes America, together would not spring to mind. In fact, it may not be on the list at all. A friend shared something his mother used to say to him when he and his sister were getting along well, describing themselves as "Buddies to the end." To which his mother would reply, "And the end's not far away." I liken America to that. 12 years ago, we all stepped up. We thought of others before ourselves. We worked together for what was best for all. Now, we have become a people divided, caring only about being right and never admitting when we're wrong. Together isn't even in our vocabulary. It's my way or no way! Now, this seems like a pretty depressing post, but it was not my intention as I began to write this to depress anyone, more so to inspire. Do not wait for another tragedy to affect this country to come together, reach out, put someone's needs before your own. Build each other up! Don't tear each other down, and that includes celebrities! It all starts with one spark, and then another, and another, and another until there is a consuming fire of forgiveness, passion, and kindness. Be that spark! Start that fire!

Anything is Possible!

I haven't blogged in two weeks. Huge things are going on in my life. I feel like all I have been doing for the past two weeks is running from one place to another. Fixing this to make that right. I haven't stopped to think about anything. I'm just running on auto-pilot and hoping that the course will, once again, be smooth. Life is rushing by, and no matter how hard I try, I can't slow it down. Last Sunday I turned 47. I am 3 years away from being half a century old, and my life is not at all what I thought it would be.

If you have read this blog before, you know that from the age of three I wanted to be an actress. I was the kid who stood in front of the bathroom mirror and rehearsed my awards speech. I would be prepared when I won my Tony or Oscar or Emmy. I dreamt of getting the privilege to work with my idols, Ellen Burstyn or Alan Alda or Dustin Hoffman. I was going to make it! It's 2010 and I am a long way from that 10 year old looking back at me from the mirror making her acceptance speech. I also have not "made it." You see, I gave up on my "Passion". I let fear and doubt shake my faith that I had what it took to be one of the lucky few.

Now, before you get out the tissues to pass me for my pity party, I have had many blessings in my life. Not the least of which are my two AMAZING daughters that I may not have had if I had "made it." They both will make their mark in the world, and in that I will have "made it." But I haven't written this today to solicit pity or wallow in depression. I am writing today to encourage anyone to go after their "Passion" I have a motivational calendar at work. The month of November has a gorgeous picture of a tree that has turned a brilliant yellow in the peak of Autumn. In bold at the base is the word "PASSION" followed by this quote:

"There are many things in life that will capture your eye, but very few will capture your heart. These are the ones to pursue. These are the ones worth keeping." 47 isn't so old. I may just "make it" yet. It doesn't really matter. What matters is that I keep trying. Are you following your passion? What do you want to do, be?  Don't let life dictate your Passion. Let Passion dictate your life.