Autumn Change

There are some disadvantages to living in a rural area… the night sky is not one of them.  Tonight I am sitting outside on my mother’s wooden porch swing as I re-read an old favorite, The Fellowship of the Ring.  Let me paint you a picture.  My mom’s house sits at the top of a hill overlooking the small town I grew up in.  You can see for miles on a clear day and tonight was no exception.  The air is bordering on cool and I know that in an hour or so, it will be too chilly to sit outside without a sweatshirt or blanket. The buzzing and clicking of the crickets and katydids join together in a last ditch effort to find a mate before the summer ends.  Football season has started, and I can see those “friday night lights” as the sounds of the local high school game drift up the hill so that if I listen very carefully, I might make out the voice of the announcer giving the score (For years the announcer was the local middle school Social Studies teacher).

There is something infinitely wonderful and nostalgic about this time of year.  I love autumn more than any other season.  The crisp smell of autumn is the smell of change. The brightly colored leaves signal the turning of the season.  Change is thrilling, but change is also sad and scary.  Even while I sit here watching the sun slip behind some trees– moving on to other parts of the world, I take a deep breath and try to take everything in just as it is in this moment. Trying to retain the memory of an autumn night that will never be like this one again.  Time is always marching forward and things will never be like this again…   Change tells us to appreciate the moment.  Change isn’t good or bad, it just is… and that’s exactly how things should be.

!*%&$*#(@)

So here is story all theater folk (and non-theater folk) can appreciate and fear all in the same breath. Let’s break this story down into GOOD and BAD…

GOOD: Artistic Director of theater calls me into “audition” to fill a role in a musical. I audition for said AD, the Musical Director, and Director.

GOOD: They love me.

BAD: Instead of asking me to be a part of the cast, they announce that I’m now a part of the cast and "go and get measured and fitted for a costume because first rehearsal starts in ten minutes…" I hear myself stammering, “Uh, okay” as I am led backstage to the costumer.

GOOD: The cast is very talented. First rehearsal is a mild success.

BAD: I’m in the ensemble. Now that’s not the “bad” part because I don’t mind ensemble work. I appreciate it on many levels. The bad part is, I have a teeny tiny ensemble role and the choreographer keeps choreographing tall guys to stand/dance/sing in front of me. So during the couple minutes of stage time I have, I’m staring at some guy’s sweaty lower back.

BAD: The Musical Director doesn’t like that I can’t manage to belt my vocal part over the 26 other people not singing alto. Apparently the decision was made that they would cast something in the neighborhood of thirteen tenors, ten basses, six sopranos and three altos…. are we being serious? I’m sorry, but I’m not going to ruin my voice belting over these people because someone chose to stage me behind Andre the Giant. Also, when I asked a question tonight, she banged on her piano and sighed heavily. Ok, so I guess I won't be asking any more questions...

ANNOYING: The SM is a poor communicator. 

GOOD?: There is a guy in the cast I have the hots for. It is possible that he is not gay.

BAD: I hurt my “good” knee at rehearsal last night because I was unaware that we would be dancing (see my previous gripe about lack of communication) and was wearing flat, unsupported shoes.

So where does that leave me? Befuddled and irritated. I don’t want to burn bridges by dropping this show—so I will stick with it—but next time when someone says to me, “Perfect! You’re in. Go down the hall to be fitted, rehearsal starts in ten minutes.” I will take a deep breath and say, “Thank you, but do you mind if I ask a few questions first…?”