We'll Never Get to Heaven Till We Reach That Day

 I first saw the musical, Ragtime, several years ago at the Dogwood Dell Festival of the Arts. Both my girls were still in elementary school. I had seen the 1994 film, but had not seen the musical. It was an excellent production, but something I remember so clearly was a question both my young girls asked me at intermission. To give you a little reference, Ragtime focuses on America in 1906, and how the lives of three different groups of people (Wealthy white Americans, African Americans and Immigrants) intersect and the challenges and tragedies they face. There is a scene in the show where the young African American couple (Coalhouse and Sarah) are driving home from a picnic with their baby, and they are stopped by three white fireman, and told they are not allowed to pass. Coalhouse sends Sarah and the baby away, and tells the men he is going to get a policeman. When he returns, the car (Coalhouse's brand new Model-T Ford) has been destroyed, and a pile of human excrement has been left on the driver's seat. It's a hard scene to watch. When intermission came, both my girls asked me why those men were being so mean to Coalhouse. I was so proud that they didn't understand hatred and cruelty to someone simply because they were a different race. 

My next experience with the musical came in 2008 when I had the amazing experience of being in the Ensemble of a Staged Concert of Ragtime as a fundraiser for a local theatre company. Ragtime is the kind of musical that's a roller coaster ride. You get strapped in at the opening number, and you just better hold on until the ride comes to a complete stop. The songs will make you feel joy and sadness, anger and triumph. To be able to create the vocal sound with a wonderful group of talented people is still one of the fondest memories I have of my 50 year theatre career.

And the third experience I have had with this awesome work was just 3 nights ago. I love this musical! I have to say it is probably my favorite musical. There are so many numbers in this show that can only be described as thrilling! When I was doing the concert mentioned above, I had never really listened to the soundtrack, but as the concert was a fundraiser, we were all volunteering our time. There was not a lot of rehearsal time, and so my love affair with the soundtrack began as I listened on repeat to familiarize myself with the score. When I heard that Ragtime was part of Arlington, VA's Signature Theater's 2023 season, I really wanted to go! Then I found out that one of my oldest and dearest friends was playing the pivotal role of Tateh, the Jewish immigrant. Ok, now I had to go! Easier said than done. Tickets to anything at Signature Theater are out of my price range. Add to that my trying to finance a wedding. Then add to that needing money for Christmas presents. I was heartbroken! I had only seen 2 other shows at Signature before, and they were stellar! How could I miss what I knew would be a phenomenal production of my favorite musical? My oldest daughter to the rescue! I turned 60 in October, and she gifted me 2 tickets, and so last Tuesday night, we made our trek up 95 North to Signature Theater. When I say that watching this show was a spiritual experience, I am not exaggerating. The cast was superb! As the opening number began to swell to it's climactic ending, my daughter and I were both squeezing each other's knees trying to contain the pure excitement we felt, and those feelings didn't stop until the final bow was taken. I was weeping, sometimes because of sadness, and sometimes because I was so moved by the beauty and the emotion of the music. Both my daughter and I shouted "Whoos!" after almost every number as the packed audience broke into thunderous applause. I had to keep myself from giving a standing ovation all through the show. When the show finally did end, I, along with most of the audience, was on my feet applauding and cheering! There is something about live theatre that just can't be recreated by watching a film or television show. It is the energy in the room, and the collective experience of everyone performing and everyone watching. The other thing about this show is that it is so poignant, and sadly, it is very relevant to the world we live in today. Unfortunately those 2 little girls that couldn't understand why people were being cruel to other people have seen too many examples of it over these past 13 years. There is a moment in the show, the last number before intermission, where something awful and tragic has happened, and we are grieving with the characters, and they sing a song called Till We Reach That Day. The lyrics are:

"There's a day of hope
May I live to see,
When our hearts are happy
And our souls are free.
Let the new day dawn,
Oh, Lord, I pray.
We'll never get to Heaven 
Till we reach that day."

Theatre moves us. Theatre inspires us. It makes us feel and think. This production of Ragtime does all of those things. There is something that happens at the very beginning of the show that I am sure was a directorial choice, and it was brilliant. The set is very minimal, and it uses levels with a sort of balcony and 2 spiral staircases that lead up to it on either side of the stage. There is a banner hung from the railing of that balcony that says "E Pluribus Unum," the motto of the United States of America adopted in 1776. The literal translation is Out of many, One. As the opening number, introducing all 3 groups that I first mentioned, ends, the banner is detached and drops to the stage floor. I loved that subtle statement of foreshadowing. It only runs through the first week in January. I wish it could run for much longer than that because everyone needs to see it. Maybe if more people did, we could all get back to the innocence of those 2 little girls who couldn't understand hatred and cruelty for someone different than themselves. Maybe we could finally "reach that day."

A Hug Emoji is Not Enough!

Once again, I am up late, night owl that I am, and I have been running through all kinds of posts on social media, tonight mostly Instagram. As you can imagine, most people's feeds and stories are filled with posts about George Floyd, and the protests and riots that have resulted from him being murdered by a white policeman. I have waited a while to write about this, because I truthfully do not know what to say. Here's the sad thing. This is nothing new. I remember sitting in my apartment in September of 1992, 9 months pregnant with my first child, watching the riots being filmed and broadcast after the Rodney King verdict was released. I couldn't believe what I was seeing! I was born in 1963, so I lived through the civil rights movement, but I was really to young to realize what was going on around me. 1992 was really the first time I saw what was going on with my own two eyes. It was so scary to me. I watched film footage of two black men going up to the cab of an 18-wheeler, opening the door and pulling the white driver out and beating him with baseball bats. I was shocked. I remember thinking, "I'm glad that's not here." But you know what else I did?...NOTHING. That was the first real event involving race that I really remember. Fast forward to 2012, and the murder of Trayvon Martin. Oh, you'll be so proud of me. I posted on Facebook about his death. I changed my profile picture to his image. I even wrote a blog post about what I thought when the verdict came down. You know what else I did?....NOTHING. Then I watched the video posted of the policeman who shot and murdered Philando Castile in 2017 (ironically also in Minnesota). This time I was very distraught. I truthfully could not believe what I was seeing. I wrote a blog post then, too. Don't worry. This one even had a tone of anger and outrage! I try to look at things logically. I try to see both sides. There is nothing worse than blabbing on and on when you don't know what you're talking about. In my opinion, you do more harm to the cause than good. This was the first time, and I am ashamed to say it, that I really saw what I didn't want to see. I didn't want to believe that this was happening. So you know what else I did?....NOTHING. I have scrolled through Facebook, and I have seen posts from my black friends and colleagues about how much they are hurting, and I started to hover, and use the "Hug Emoji, " and then I thought to myself, "Are you kidding?!? A hug Emoji? It's so trite! It's meaningless. I cannot even pretend to know what is going through any black person's mind right now, and trying to pretend that I know or can feel what they are going through is just BULLSHIT! It's not about me! I'm white. And this has nothing to do with guilt. I'm not apologizing for being white. I can't change the color of my skin anymore than a black person can change the color of theirs. What I am saying, and please hear me. I have no idea what it is like to be you. I would not even begin to say I can relate. I cannot. But I know that this cannot go on, and it needs to stop, and I want to be part of the solution, not the problem. Something has got to change. Do you know why there is a hashtag and phrasing everywhere that says black lives matter? It's because over and over this nation has proven that they don't. Sorry, plain and simple. I don't have to say white lives matter because I have never been shown that they don't. When I began this post, I looked up whether the officer who murdered Philando Castile was convicted. He wasn't. I cannot believe that any jury member who watched that video could have done anything else but convict. When I was raising my girls, and they would do something to hurt my feelings, or each others, they would always say they were sorry. My response to them was. Don't tell me you're sorry. Words mean nothing. Show me you're sorry. Change your behavior so I know that your words mean something. We can hug emoji, and hashtag all we want. We can post and say how outraged we are, and it means NOTHING! unless we change the way we act. No Justice! No Peace! Know justice! Know peace!