Saturday, October 13 -- Aftermath

When my mother goes to the lake, this is how she makes coffee: she takes an old enamel coffee pot that doesn't have the basket in it any more, boils some water in it, and then puts several scoops of coffee in and boils it. I'm not sure how long she boils it; you'd have to ask her. That's the best I can describe Opening Night. It was like trying to swallow a big mouthful of her lake coffee before the grounds settle.You have to let the grounds settle, see? Or it's not even like coffee at all and you burn your tongue.

Just as we entered the building Rick Chafe told me "for at least the first twenty minutes you'll be wondering what play you're watching." Turned out to be true like so many things Rick says. It was an out-of-body experience. Bob and the cast did a magnificent job. I was worried about those actors in the scenes on the bridge and oh - my brother Glenn told me at intermission that what he and his friends used to do in Chippawa was run all the way across the bridge during a break in traffic and VAULT over the rail to dive in. Holy crap. Mum doesn't know about that though, so don't tell her.
So many people I didn't get a chance to talk to in the lobby after. I barely talked to my mother, I never had a decent moment with Bob. My whole loving family was there and most of our neighbourhood and lots of lovely friends (there really are no people like show people). They sold out of both The Brink and Selkirk Avenue beers which can only mean that Bruce McManus and I are now officially two of the cool kids. Everyone's been so kind and nice helping me along through all of this.

 

The whole next day I was what the youngsters describe as "a hot mess." Wondering what that was all about, and why would anyone put themselves through that kind of highly stressful, ridiculously vulnerable experience, etc. It must be because you just have to see if you can get something across. You're just built that way or something. Then I got an email forwarded to me by my brother Murray. One of his curling buddies had been at the show and wrote to say his father was a Hong Kong vet and he wished his Dad had lived to see the show because the story isn't told outside of history books, and not much there either. So there's a good reason to do something like this. And maybe it will be more comfortable, or at least more familiar next time? I don't know. Next time?

I'm starting to get my skin put back on and I got a little sleep. Looking forward to seeing it again soon. Now that the grounds are starting to settle it is starting to taste more like coffee. This is a cup of joe for which I am profoundly grateful.

And I think this might be the end of this blog.