The Theatre Gene - How a love of the craft is passed on generation to generation
Yesterday was my father’s birthday. I miss him. I miss the way he laughed and gave me big bear hugs. I miss how he looked at me when he was proud or how he talked about ancient history and the bible. I miss how sweet he was and how easy he was to please. All you needed was a little ice cream, or a cinnamon bun, a cup of coffee, an old western, a good book, or beautiful piece of classical music.
I know he would have been pleased with my latest artistic offering. He loved musical theatre. Before opening night of the play I’ve directed, Lucky Stiff, I invited him to come. I closed my eyes and pictured him and said, “Dad, I want you there in the audience tonight. Please come see my show.” And I know he did. And I know he’s proud.
Ten years ago, I directed “Hello, Dolly” at a local high school, the show I had starred in as a senior in high school. At curtain call, we got an uproarious standing ovation. It was a huge success and when Dad hugged me at the end, he had tears in his eyes, “You did good, kid.” I miss that. I missed his hug on opening night.
I’m lucky that my best friends, my mother and brother were all there this weekend, cheering me on, bringing flowers and cards and showering me with praise and thoughtful feedback. I felt all loved up by my people. I felt grateful.
But one of the most beautiful gifts of this artistic process, of getting back to my craft, to what I do best and most naturally in this world, has been sharing it with my children, the way that my Dad shared it with me when I was a little girl.
My earliest and most vibrant memories of the theatre are with him. My Dad had a few starring roles at The Valley Light Opera, a local Gilbert & Sullivan troupe in Northampton, MA. He had a beautiful, silky baritone voice. He was tall and handsome and funny and full of light on the stage!
But the real magic for me as a 5 year old girl, was getting to see behind the scenes. I remember going backstage after “Iolanthe” and getting shown around by one of the pretty Smith students. She was a fairy. I remember she was dressed in green and had red lipstick on and blonde curly hair. I remember the smell of the grease paint, the way they all adored me, the way they were laughing and teasing each other. And I remember my Dad being truly happy.
It made such an impact on me that I started doing theatre too at the local children’s theatre. I got to play Annie and Gretl von Trapp and The Artful Dodger, and I was officially bitten by the bug. I knew what I wanted to do at 5 years old.
What has happened this time around - as I’m directing my first show back since the pandemic, is I’m experiencing my 6 year old daughter, Gigi, falling in love with theatre, just as I did. When she was only one year old, Covid hit, and all the shows I was involved in were canceled in one day. I was directing “The Music Man” at the local elementary school, choreographing “James and the Giant Peach,” directing a huge fundraising Cabaret show in the winter, and running a musical theatre school of my own. All of my work dried up within a few months. It broke my heart. And when my children were very small, I lost my connection to my craft and my purpose.
Two years later my Dad died. Why do theatre when I’ve lost my biggest fan? Who am I anyway?
I fell into grief and addiction, to be honest.
Coming back to the craft, 6.5 months sober, at my local community theatre down the street, Theatre III, has been such a warm and wonderful experience. I have brought Simon and Gigi to rehearsals and crew days. I’ve played the music for them and told them about scenes and ideas for the show. My daughter was up on her feet, dancing along with us at a choreography rehearsal, painting with the crew, and sorting buttons with the costumer. They have gotten to know the cast, who adores them, and seen behind the curtain, watching how the magic is made.
And in the process, I’ve seen Gigi’s eyes light up. “Mama, I want to be a director when I grow up!” I’ve heard their squeels of delight watching the TV spot for the show - after they had both coached me on my interview answers. I can see that they are discovering their Mom anew, seeing me with wide eyes of amazement. I know that they are proud of me. I know that they are seeing a Mama who is happy, confident, healthy and in her element. And that makes ME proud.
It feels like a full circle moment. This wonderful art form that my Dad shared with me as a little girl, I’m getting to share with my kids and now I get to discover it all over again. I get to see the magic through their eyes - their amazement at how the sauce is made.
I will be bringing them to the show on closing day, Mother’s Day. I can’t wait to show them what their Mama made. I can’t wait to see the show through their eyes. And I can’t wait to sit in the audience of their creations someday, give THEM a big bear hug, and say “You did good, kid.”
The story goes on.
Come see “Lucky Stiff” at Theatre III in Acton, MA!
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