Norman Would Be Proud

Tonight I gathered with a group I like to call a second family at the November Theater. You couldn't really call it a party, and it wasn't for a show, although the audience was filled with show people. The group was the Richmond Theatre Community, and we gathered to say goodbye and remember and honor one of our own, Andy Boothby. Andy left us way to soon this past Tuesday. He and I were born the same year only 8 months apart. He was older. He wouldn't want me to share that, but he was. When I heard the news, I couldn't believe it. Obviously I was not the only one shocked as several friends tonight shared the same sentiment. You kind of just thought he would always be around. His was a light you couldn't imagine going out, but it did, and it rocked all of our worlds. As I often do, when I am moved, I take to blogging. When I heard about Andy, I couldn't blog because I was in tech week for a show. Andy would totally understand that, and it wouldn't bother him in the least. He was an actor, and a damn good one! The first time I saw Andy on stage was when he played Tito in Lend Me a Tenor at Swift Creek Mill. He was wonderful, and I remember thinking, "Who is this new guy?" The first show I did with him was an adaptation of The Phantom of the Opera also at Swift Creek. This was the first time I heard the phrase,"Norman, I believe we shall give them a good one tonight!" We didn't appear on stage together again until we did A Christmas Carol at Theatre IV. He was playing Ghost of Christmas Present, a fitting role for Andy as he consumed life and all its joys. Those were the only 2 shows Andy and I did together, but every time I would see him I could always count on a hug and a kiss. I saw Andy in several shows, but my favorite performance was his role as the boyfriend in Hanover Tavern's On Golden Pond . It was such a departure from Andy's real life persona. He played him with nervousness, and vulnerability perfectly. He was superb! The last time I saw Andy was about 9 months ago. He did me a favor and spent a day with a bunch of high school kids judging a forensics competition. We shared lunch and conversation and of course a hug and a kiss. I didn't know it would be the last one I would receive. Maybe I would have held on a little longer. If you ever did a show with Andy, at places you would hear him bellow, "Norman, I believe we shall give them a good one tonight!" Andy, you did give them a good one on stage and off and Norman would have been proud!

In Memory

I have used this blog several times to write tributes, sometimes for celebrities that I admire who have passed on, sometimes family, and several for my girls, but today is a little bit different. Today I write one for someone who hasn't really been a part of my life for the past 15 years, but before that played a huge role in my day to day living. The man I'm writing about today is my ex-father-in-law. Divorce is a weird thing. I've never really known how to deal with the extended relationships. It's not like because you're divorced you can just turn off your feeling for the people who were your second set of parents for 15 years. So, today when I found out that he passed away, I cried because I did love him, and he loved me like I was one of his own. I married when I was very young, and I remember the day that I was going to meet "the parents" I was really nervous because I knew how much my ex-husband valued his parent's opinion, especially his father's. We made the long drive out to the country where they lived. I was 16 years old and a city girl. I had no idea what to expect. We spent most of the day there and we talked with his family the whole time. Before lunch, during lunch, after lunch, right up until we left. I remember saying on the trip home that I felt bad that I had kept them from whatever they needed to do. They shouldn't have felt like they needed to entertain me all day. The response was that that was business as usual. I would make that trek up that country road many times over the next 17 years, and he and I would have hundreds of "talks" and yes, sometimes arguments but not "fights." We didn't see eye to eye on a lot of issues, and we were both just as stubborn as the other and would keep arguing trying to get the other to come to our side. Truth be told, I think sometimes he would just pick the other side whether he had a strong feeling about it or not to challenge me. He certainly enjoyed a discussion, even when it got heated, but the great thing was, he respected me for what I thought, and I respected him. There was no, "Well, if you don't believe what I believe, you're an idiot." He didn't hold a college degree, but he knew so much. He loved music, and, more times than once on my visits, he would pull out the guitar to sing but not in a grandiose way. His son is quite a talented singer, and they would harmonize together. He would always try to get me to sing with them, but because it was mostly country music, something I didn't really listen to very much, I knew only a few, but I would sing those. It was very comfortable to be in his presence. He never made anyone feel less than he was. He loved his wife and his family fiercely. He was someone who would always have your back and as honest as the day is long, even if it wasn't what you wanted to hear. (He and I are a lot alike in that department). He had a fabulous, dry sense of humor,  and he could give you a look that spoke volumes, and he never took crap from ANYBODY. He was a handsome, rugged man's man. I always thought he resembled Robert Mitchum. True to his nature, he called the shots right until the very end choosing to stop anymore surgeries and heroic, vain efforts to keep him living. He lost his war today, but oh what a battle he waged. He will be missed, but what a relief that his suffering is over. And maybe, just maybe, he and my dad will be playing poker tonight.

Cherish Every Moment

Goodbyes are difficult whether they are are for a short time as we part for a small trip or a bit longer when someone is leaving for college or permanently when we lose them and know they won't be in our lives anymore. They are difficult because when we say them or experience them, we have to suffer loss. I have heard this week about two families who have had to say Good-bye. One child lost their battle with leukemia and another senior boy who attended school with my daughter died last night from cardiac arrest. I CANNOT imagine what it is like to lose a child, and I pray I will never have to experience it. My heart aches for those families, especially at this time of year when everywhere you look there are images that scream family togetherness. How does one heal that gaping wound when a child is ripped from from your world?
I have no trite words of wisdom to dispense, they would sound empty and meaningless like some cheap greeting card.
What I can share is that if anything can come out of a tragedy like this, it is to make me, and I hope you too, realize how very precious life is. That every moment that we are given to love our children is a gift and that we waste far too many of those moments, taking them for granted, as if they will always be there. So tonight, when you hug your children before they go to bed, hold on for just an instant longer and tell then that you love them, even at the risk of rolling eyes at how "weird" you are. None of us knows just how many of those moments we'll have, so make every single one count. Gotta go. I've got two beautiful girls to kiss good night.