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.