When I was in possibly fifth or sixth grade I was in a play. It wasn't a children's play, it was an adult play and it was about something. It was definitely about something or other... Or at least I think it was. I was involved in it because my neighbor's mother was either directing it or was the dance coordinator or something that caused her to need to be there for all the rehearsals. You can see my memory is quite clear on the details. Clear as mud.
My neighbor's daughter and I were the best of friends. This is the same neighbor I haven't seen in years that I recently saw for her birthday celebration. She and her parents are very creative and artistic. She is still involved in theater and film and art and music and many other artistic pursuits.
There was a dual purpose to me being in this play. First, I would get a new and interesting experience of the theater. Second, I would be with my neighbor's mother and have someone to play with in the afternoons while my parents were still at work. And that was fine by me on both counts. I have good memories of the dark, dark theater and the bright, sunny steps in front that had a bicycle rack I spent quite a bit of time on, trying to turn it into a piece of gymnastics equipment.
The play part I had was very dull. I did some walking onto the stage and we sang the "Simple Gifts" song. To this day when I hear that song I flash back to sitting on the stage and being in that play.
The other part of my job, role, character was to be still. Completely still. I had to be still, with the remainder of the cast, while we did a "time freeze" and a part of the plot unfolded between two characters. For those of you who know me and are now laughing, I know, right? Me, sitting still? I was a complete failure. They could tell I was going to be terrible at the part so they stuck me behind one of the men in the play. I think that made it worse.
I could see people to the left in the audience and I could see lots of people to the right. About a fourth of the crowd was blocked by that man but I think I decided that no one could see me, so I could pick at my shoelace or play with the fringe on my costume or fidget or do all sorts of not-being-still things.
I made it to opening day, but I was not asked back to be in their next play. I wasn't surprised. I was more interested in the playground than the play at any rate.
Big Boy Update: All the socks. Two nights ago he was having a hard time settling to go to sleep. At one point I heard him calling repeatedly for daddy. When I arrived upstairs I tucked him back in and gave him one of his favorite stuffed animals. But he didn't sleep yet. Ten minutes later I hear him making all sorts of noise. When I got upstairs I stumbled over something on the floor right at the edge of his bed. He said, "I need socks" and then I realized what I was standing on. In the dark, he had gone to his sock drawer, pulled out all the pairs and put them at the edge of his bed. Then he had closed the drawer. He was then sitting on the edge of the bed, trying to get on some socks in the dark. I helped him put on socks (which he normally does not sleep in) and then he went straight to sleep.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: The two minute harmonica lesson. To distract her from an uncomfortable diaper rash diaper change I brought her brother's harmonica into the room with us. The harmonica is kept on a shelf and only brought down from time to time and she's never had a chance to try it. I demonstrated how to blow on it and she tried. She said, "more" and I showed her again, using an exaggerated blowing motion. The second time she got it and was able to blow and make sounds. Also, she completely didn't notice the diaper being changed.
Fitness Update: Race Day. Uncle Jonathan and I ran in a 5K race today with the proceeds going towards scholarships at the school he attends. We ran well. I beat my best 5K time, but only by fifteen seconds. Uncle Jonathan beat me by at least fifteen seconds more.
Someone Once Said: Most neuroses can be traced to the unhealthy habit of wallowing in the troubles of five billion strangers.
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