To My Community Theatre,
I fell madly in love with you as soon as I was cast as a soloist in that groundbreaking off-off-off-off Broadway cabaret. Sure, our stage was the church basement, and yeah, I did forget all my lines and started crying in front of everyone. But it was that moment of raw emotion that the overdramatic 8-year-old became hooked on performing.
I often refer to you as the town’s hidden gem. Not many people know you're there, but the ones who do quickly become too infatuated to leave. You effortlessly sprinkle magic dust over the audience and leave them feeling captivated with every word spoken on stage. You serve as an escape for people to put away their worries and troubles for three hours at a time. Audiences are transported back in time by the beautiful songs of Rogers and Hammerstein, or by the intensity of Sondheim’s score. You allow them to take a break from their hectic lives.
Through you, anything is possible. You can make an actor fly above the audience, or make it snow inside during July. Ordinary people take on extraordinary personas, and perceive themselves in a light that they did not think was ever possible. You create the makers of music and the dreamers of dreams.
It's not a love for those weak at heart or spirit. I've broken way too many character heels, seams on costumes, and hair clips in my time with you. I've stolen people’s hangers (we’ve all done it), lost all my bobby pins, and missed my cues before, too. Once I almost got ran over by the Grease Lightning car, and busted my lip onstage by a baton mishap. It’s hard to maintain a cool composure when blood is all over the front of your white costume, but you taught me how to walk with the grace and conviction of a true performer. With live theatre there are no mistakes, only opportunities.
Sometimes, I get frustrated with you. Maybe I have been at rehearsal for hours and I am starving, or I likely can’t get Seussical out of my head. It’s aggravating when there are always an abundance of children in the shows, yet never enough men, no matter how hard we look. My friends have begun to know the phrase “I can’t, I have rehearsal” all too well, but I never regret the time I spend with you.
It’s always fun to put on beautiful costumes and get to play make believe, or just being in the center of attention. But those aren't the best parts. I truly believe that the people involved in theatre are the best and most rewarding part. Such a diverse group of people all come together for one common goal. I believe that's how life works. You learn more about yourself from the company of others. I've had friends in productions who are lawyers, teachers, choreographers, bankers, and writers. Through being with all these people, I'm able to learn what I want to do with my life and how I should accomplish it. I affectionately look to them to help guide me as a person and performer. They bring the magic of theatre into everyday life.
I still giggle when I think about making my onstage debut when after devotedly rehearsing in the local church basement, and still forgetting the words. Despite that train wreck of a performance, I was captivated by the rituals and the sense of unity that comes between a cast right before the opening night curtains rise, by the beautiful orchestrations, and by the grandness of performing live. You were able to see me when no one else did. Thank you for lighting up both the stage and my life.
Whether I'm onstage, backstage, or in the audience; the theatre is a beautiful community I'm blessed to be part of.
Love,
The performer who will never get enough
