Busy busy bee today. Crazy work projects and errands and phone calls and business. My head has been spinning so fast I am practically in orbit, so I apologize if this is discombobulated. But here I am, Flashback Friday, determined to finish this before too long, if it kills me. Or kisses me, which is what I typed first. At this point, either seems equally likely.
I'm not sure I can remember the first thing I really got paid to do...maybe it was pick dandelions out of our yard at 5 cents apiece. (Oh, friends, I just did a weird thing with my thumb, and it made a snappy noise accompanied by a sharp pain, and now it is all tingly when I bend it. Are there any doctors out there who can diagnose my condition based on that very clear description??) I debated whether I should tell you about the summer where I did every chore imaginable while saving up money to buy my American Girl doll, Samantha, but that story is about as interesting as this sentence, so I figured I'd skip it.
Instead I thought I would share my recollections of one of my first professional plays. I was seven, and the play was called...well now, I don't know. It was a contemporary musical re-telling of the parable of the prodigal son, set in Idaho. Yes, you read that correctly. I'm sure you're familiar with the basic plot. Son of potato king asks for his inheritance early; he goes straight to Boise in a fast car and blows it all on women and wine; he ends up vomiting in an alley; he decides to go home and beg for a job; the father welcomes him home with open arms; the other nice, obedient son gets jealous; they work it out; everyone is happy at the end. There was a little hometown love interest sprinkled in, and the cast photo on the poster had a fancy sports car in it.
I don't remember much about the director, except that he was tall and round. I don't remember much about what I did in the play, except that in the scene where the prodigal son blows town, two other kids and I had to cross to center, do a sweet little step-touch dance move, and sing, "Billy, has your life been that rough?" I can still hear it in my head, and if you were here, I'd sing it to you too so you could have the full experience. I'd even dance! I know, it's so tempting, right? Makes you want to just hop right on a plane.
Being in that play was one big thrill for me. I can still remember the smell of the makeup sponges and the tickle of the eyeliner, and what it was like to stand onstage next to my pretend family while my pretend mother belted out a song with so much power that her jaw shook. I can still remember having a gigantic crush on our leading man, Dwight Equitz, who was so dreamy in his white sport coat (there was a rumor that he had been in some straight-to-video movies, which only enhanced his appeal). We watched, awestruck, as he rubbed dirt on his face and shirt to give his homelessness some authenticity. We left secret admirer notes in his shoes and wondered which of us he would marry (the answer, it turns out, was none of us, which is good because he had at least fifteen years on us). And I can still remember how magical it felt to stand in the wings, waiting for my turn to move into that strange, outdoors-but-indoors world with its colored lights and heightened, multidimensional shadows, where we were all ourselves but not ourselves, and we had to play jacks and jump rope, but not really.
Now that I think of it, I'm not sure I actually got paid for that play, but it was a huge moment in my life. The acting bug bit me, hard, and I spent a lot of my happiest times over the next fifteen-ish years onstage, backstage, or in a rehearsal. I even started college as a musical theatre major, if you can believe it. Which I guess you can, if you have ever met me and know how easily I make a fool out of myself in public.
Sometimes I really miss that world, but I also love the life I have now and wouldn't trade it for anything. I'm sure that some day, another theatrical opportunity will come around and I'll give it a whirl. Who knows, maybe The Prodigal Potato Prince will do a 25-year reunion tour.
I'd better practice my step-touch dance moves, just in case.
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It's another fabulous Flashback Friday! The lovely and talented Jo at Mylestones is our host, and quite a few other bloggy friends join in the fun. You can too, here!
7 comments:
Hello, gorgeous. Tell me something.