Tuesday, November 25, 2008

The Madness That Keeps Me Sane

'But I don’t want to go among mad people,' Alice remarked.'Oh, you can’t help that,' said the Cat. 'We’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad.
''How do you know I’m mad?' said Alice.
'You must be,” said the Cat. 'or you wouldn’t have come here.'”
...............Lewis Carroll
“And Something's odd - within -That person that I was - And this One - do not feel the same - Could it be Madness - this?"...............Emily Dickenson
A person needs a little madness, or else they never dare cut the rope and be free." ...............Nikos Kazantzakis

It isn't one madness -- or is it? To start a theatre company and school when one has only $250 to one's name, three kids to support, a mortgage....surely madness. We made it through five remarkable years, training many actors in their craft; bringing good theatre to the burbs. Holding yard sales several times a year to meet my personal bills. Moving to Boston brought some difficult and terrifying personal loss. It also brought a challenge I met with acumen I didn't know I had and chutzpah that surprised me and opportunity I long to have again. I took on the Children's Theater which was at 40 percent attendance, no artistic direction, and floundering badly. When I left five years later, it was at 95 percent attendance, a budget five times more than when I'd arrived, receiving reviews from professional critics, and turning out young actors -- strong young people who could take on any world. This was my madness. My passion. It sometimes still is.

But I'm not writing here about theatre. I'm talking about passion. With some regret that I didn't continue to have the courage to pursue it. I drove once to Youngstown Ohio (of all places!) to direct Neil Simon's RUMORS (really!) at the Playhouse. A community theatre. I was there for five weeks having a remarkable time. Talented actors and staff. My days off; rehearsing at night; creating a terrific show. I had to have been mad. Youngstown Ohio? Fabulous.

We all have our own madness. We would be unplugged without. There would be no current running through us to light us up and electrify people we encountered. My oldest son pursued his passion to California where he still lives his dream. My actor son kept on keeping on for 20 years paying more than his share of dues to work in theatre. It is his life blood. No matter how difficult the journey, it is everything.

I am passionate about many things. Especially people. Not all people -- I'm not that much a humanist or that mad. My kids; nuts about them. My grandkids. Little Keira -- (Jamie says I'm in love with her; why not?) My extended family. Actors I work
with. Writers I've never met. Places. A courtyard in Monterey. The Brooklyn Bridge. The Marginal Way. Venice. Make your own list.

I'm not sure what brought this on. Maybe because I just closed a production of Noel Coward's HAY FEVER, and realized how much of me I left there. Maybe because Jamie was in town with SPAMALOT and we had some great talks. Maybe because Alex called the other day and we chatted as though no time had gone by. And it's almost the winter solstice and like many people, I get disgustingly nostalgic. Maybe because I've come to know that what I'm most passionate about is life and all that's good in it.

Happy Thanksgiving.


Sunday, November 9, 2008

A Week in November

Tuesday
I stood in line to vote today, unusual for Beverly where I live. Lines are not typical at the polls here. I spent the time thinking about the first time I voted. I had just graduated from college and JFK was running for President. (One had to be 21 to vote back then.) My father accompanied me when I registered to vote in the basement of P.S. 99 in Brooklyn. My father was so proud. He came to America when he was eleven years old. Being a citizen with the right to vote -- no -- the obligation to vote -- was so important to him. I had been told to bring my high school diploma. I couldn't find it, so I brought my college diploma which I had just brought home. A woman sitting at a bridge table at the school wouldn't accept the college diploma. Had to be a high school diploma. I had a choice: go home and find it, or take a literacy test. Yes. You had to be able to read to vote. Not a bad concept. (It was done away with because minorities who couldn't read believed it was put there to keep them from voting. It probably was. But if our country lived up to its reputation, everyone would be able to read by 18 years of age!) I took the test. A paragraph about the Statue of Liberty with five questions to answer. (My dad was howling with laughter.) My 19 year old granddaughter will vote today for the first time. When she registered, she gave her name and address. No one asked her if she can read the ballot. I am excited for her -- exercising her privilege to vote; being a franchised citizen of her country. I hope she's excited, too.


Wednesday
Thoroughly sleep deprived, I came into the office where I'm currently temping. Eight nice guys; two nice women one of whom is admin to the executive. And me. I was very happy, albeit the lack of sleep. I had been rooting for Hilary Clinton; when she lost to Barack Obama, I transferred my allegiance to him. I will not wax political, except to say that the office today was like a morgue. These folks work in government relations in the financial industry, and they were NOT happy with the outcome of the election. It was a very difficult day for me. I felt as though I were encamped with the Philistines. I also felt as though I were the enemy. I wouldn't entertain the idea of discussing the election with any of them. They have the script down pat. I only know what I know and it has nothing to do with the stock market. So I bungled through and then went to dress rehearsal for the production of HAY FEVER that I'm directing in Concord Mass. Happily, the dress rehearsal went very well. Good pace; all lines remembered; blocking clean; a couple of technical glitches but nothing to distract from the play. And although I got home dead late and it was bound to be another day of sleep deprivation on Thursday, I was content.


Thursday
The last morning commute from Beverly to Boston by car hopefully for a long, long time. It took me over two hours to get to work. Need to do it to have transportation to Concord in the evening. Tonight is an open dress rehearsal (local audience invited). Tomorrow night is the grand opening. The show is essentially out of my hands. That's pretty much the pattern of creation: you make it, and while you do it's yours. Then you release it into the universe (and the stage manager.) And it takes on a life of it's own or a life grafted to it by others. The commute is horrific. In order not to go screaming out into traffic, I think about the historic election. And I remember when John F. Kennedy presented the members of his cabinet at the Inaugural Ball, my dad and I watched on television. My dad wept; Arthur Goldberg and Abraham Ribicoff were the first Jews to be appointed to a presidential cabinet since Theodore Roosevelt's presidency. Progress is often slow; very slow. But I thought about the reverberation -- my three black grandchildren, and what this kind of progress might mean to their lives.

Friday
I stayed home from work today. I spent an unreasonable amount of money at Trader Joe's putting together the opening night basket I give to the cast and crew of Hay Fever tonight. I got a manicure. I wrote thank you notes to all the good folks who helped bring the production to this juncture. I am relieved that the show will open tonight, that essentially it now belongs to our Stage Manager, that I can attend as audience, that I can perhaps get home at reasonable hours and get some much needed sleep.

Saturday
HAY FEVER is a big success; I'm so happy for the cast. Come spring I will miss not having a play to direct. But for now, I have books to read, plays to write, Chanukah and Christmas to think about, friends to get caught up with, and a little buddy to share the autumn with. I hope you had a happy week, too.