Back to "The Future"

ring out the bells again
like we did when spring began
wake me up when september ends

Apparently Green Day is a big hit in Britain. That doesn't surprise me.

Against unbelieveable odds, the performance at MetroHealth went off today with out (much of) a hitch. To say I slept-walked through it wouldn't be fair to me or the audience, but with roughly fifteen hours of sleep spread out over four nights, it is fair to say I was dreaming or channeling a fair part of it. It felt odd at first - a lot of them do - and just kept rolling as we went along.

Technically, it was a drag. Kelly did the best she could with a sound situation that was tossed at her at the last minute, and it didn't help there was no front lighting at all. I was like this shadow through most of the perf. Tom would have had a hissy.

But the audience was game, one of the largest I've performed to. I was promised something like two hundred plus but I wonder if it hit that, there were enough vacant seats - this was the last event in a two day conference on coping with grief, and I wasn't surprised a lot of participants might opt to get out into the sunshine on what was a beautiful day.

But the reaction from those present was very strong, and I was deeply moved by the folks who came up after to talk to me. This tale is so many people's tale, it's heartbreaking. It's also why I do it.

There was a couple there who we knew from our second Bradley session, the one for Zelda. It was odd, way back then (late 2002, early 2003) our being the couple in the class who had lost their previous child - and talked about it. Seemed out of place, like talking about vomit in a cooking class. We thought these folks were lovely, though, the husband in particular was always there with a funny comment when the class got awkward.

Their girl, Emma, died shortly after birth. We tried reaching out to them at the time, and they appreciated it, but I guess they had other ways to deal with their loss, and that's all right. I was so happy to see them there today - and with their 10-month son Cole.

Laura & Justin were there, they took the day off to come. I am glad they got to see it, too - though if it were almost anyone else I might have suggested they didn't, I usually warn off folks whose grief is so raw just because, I don't know, I am afraid of hurting them with it. Justin looked visibly shaken (I know you're reading this, I hope you don't mind my saying so.) But I meant it when I said I went in there today thinking "I'm exhausted, I could skate through this, but I am doing this today just for you."

I was getting seriously choked up today in places, especially delivering the Memorial Day scene. That doesn't usually happen, in spite of the subject matter, I am too technical (distant?) a performer to get any true emotions involved. I prefer to act.

And then there was The Future. Man, it's crazy. Way back when, in 2002 when I was first drafting this, I was trying to write, more or less, a scene for every month from 03/01 - 03/02. That time frame, of course, includes 9/11. And in Writers' Group most everyone was behind what became the scene called The Future except for Bohan. He was frank in telling me he thought making an allusion to the WTC was a bit jarring, and yanked him out of the narrative. I was writing an intimate story, and I had exited it into the outside world. I think that was my point, but I also didn't want to "jar" anyone out of the play.

I stuck with it. And what's funny is how while other little bits of the show become dated (F.A.O. Schwartz is closed, Six Flags isn't around anymore) that one scene becomes more and more poignant as the years add up.

"I miss the 90s." Funnier in 2005 than 2002. "I miss the Democratic Party." More of a groaner now than ever. And when I state "The anticipation of the 21st century was so much sweeter than what is has offered," - today, for the first time ever, I could hear actual murmurings of assent from the audience. Now that was jarring - to me. And that's when you know an audience is right there with you.

I have a yearing to rest now. In the time since Monday I feel I have lived the past five years in five days. Good night.