One of Emily's students was in a musical this past weekend and we attended the show. It was "Seussical the Musical Jr." The show featured students from my middle school alma mater and was staged in the theater where I performed countless times from kindergarten through senior year.
The auditorium has been redone. Covered were the once austere cinder block walls. Removed was the funky, but not very functional overhead control room. It used to be suspended from the ceiling. It has been replaced with a correct and more functional setup, but it isn't nearly as cool.
The green velour seat covers have given way to a busy fabric now ubiquitous in convention halls and casinos. Not my favorite, but it is certainly contemporary. I am sure it isn't better than the deep avocado green that cemented the place permanently in the decade of its birth. Who needs a cornerstone reading 'A.D. 1973' if you have green velour on the seats?
I was glad to see the things that hadn't changed. The main proscenium curtain was still of the same said green material. It is a lovely, large curtain. It made me smile immediately upon seeing it again. I imagine it would have been many, many thousands of dollars to replace. And it likely would have to conform to different codes. I digress.
I smiled not because of what it is made, or that it survives today. I smiled because I was immediately transported back to staring at the business side of that curtain. The anticipation of waiting for it to be drawn. The energy and the focus. The magic of backstage.
That curtain, which kept out the sound of the house and stilled the electric air. Once parted, with an impossibly smooth whisper, the audience was revealed, transforming anticipation into action and us into character.
I was happy to see the curtain still hand operated, the was God and Sophocles* intended. It slowed ever so slightly throughout its travel as the middle school stage crew struggled on those old, smooth hemp ropes. I remember it being a smooth, but heavy pull. I used to practice it just to hear the 'whooooosh' of it opening and closing. I practiced, hand over hand. Steady. Slow slightly at the end to avoid a loud clunk against the stops of the batten. I could make that curtain fly. It was a matter of pride.
I was happy other things hadn't changed, either. Rick Westers still runs the joint, just like he has for 30 years. Rick's first year at the auditorium as a guy in his middle twenties was also my first year. I was only 8. Rick was so good with we children. The show was "Three Ships" and I played one of three Christrophers Columbus, (there was one from each grade, 3-5). Timmy Torcivia, (or was it Tommy... Jimmy?) played my brother. We sang a song. I was brilliant, Timmy, Tommy, Jimmy, was okay, too.
Through the years as I spent more time in the auditorium I got to know Rick better. He got into directing shows and I got to love the technical side of theater. Rick took me under his wing and taught me a lot. Not just about theater, but about life. There were many late night set builds, strikes and technical setups. Rick introduced me to the wonder of Supertramp, a band I still have an unnatural love for today. Rick would let me drive his red Riviera to McDonalds to pick up snacks. Rick taught me to spackle walls and lay tile floors, using his own newly purchased house as a lab. At the time, I am sure I thought I was exceptional for offering to help. Looking back, it was Rick who was exceptional to let me hang around. More importantly, to teach me. Patiently. With humor.
He was behind the new booth, looking every bit as I remembered him. I introduced myself and he smiled and boomed back in his famous baritone (what a voice that guy has!) how happy he was to see me. It's been 20 years. And we talked a little of family, (his is doing great!), of fishing boats, (he's looking for a new one), and mutual acquaintances, (all alive and well!).
I recently had a birthday. It's natural to look around you and take inventory. I wondered to myself if I am still relevant to the high school youth of my church that have become such a wonderful, joyous and important part of my life. I realized Rick was about the same age then as I am now. And he related with all of us in high school so well. And we related to him. I regarded him as a mentor. I still do. I bet Rick has positively influenced countless kids in 30 years. I am sure I'm not the only one who looks back at my time in his presence as being of seminole importance.
I guess that means it is possible that I can be relevant to "my kids", too.
My 20th high school reunion is this summer. I am not going. I didn't care for much of high school. But going back to that big old auditorium and reclaiming some of that magic was something I guess I needed. Maybe it wasn't all bad back then after all. Perhaps, after 20 years it is time to move on and adjust my paradigm.
I'm still not going to my reunion. But, I managed to find what I was looking for without even knowing I was looking. Without even knowing I needed to look. Like I said, the place is magical.
*I don't know what God's take on the operation of proscenium curtains is, and I know that Greek theaters did not employ curtains. I like the metaphor, flawed though it may be - and this is my blog. Deal.
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