Fade to Black
I’ve spent a lot of angry hours contemplating the ugliness of community theater in recent months. I was reeling from a very deep hurt and felt as though I had removed my green tinted glasses in the Emerald City. I’ve softened some of my anger recently, choosing to let go of the toxic emotions that really don’t do anyone any good. Not enough to make it a regular part of my life again… but enough to accept that theater is a happier part of who I have been.
In one of life’s strange twists of fate, last night I was having a discussion about my evolved opinions. Even as we were sitting over our glasses of wine, the news was slowly spreading amongst friends that a director, actor, friend, teacher whom I met in the glory days of my theater involvement passed away quite unexpectedly.
It is sad, truly sad to lose a soul so swiftly from the earth. Especially one whom I always picture as full of life and humor and ideas. It is a really difficult thing to imagine that the snappy sarcasm won’t surface on my Facebook page or under a whisper after a show. That sorrow is undeniable… but then all these thoughts of the past nine months started colliding as I tried to go to sleep last night.
The truth is, community theater, even with all its flaws and imperfections and cruelty is a community. A chance to escape the outside world for a bit. And in the process, one collides with like-minded souls, kindred spirits, and other artists seeking to understand the all too brief life through a creative process. I was awestruck as I started thinking how this man not only created the projects from which I have memories that I will treasure to my dying day, but he also created the circumstance through which I met several of my near and dear friends. Friends who are also grieving at this major loss. Friends with whom, were it not for Doug Ingalls, I might not have crossed paths.
It is something how all the ugliness fades away. The meanness doesn’t matter as much as the celebration and the joy. In the end, what we hold onto are the good moments. The moments that make us laugh, make us smile, and make us want to understand what it is to be human and feel.
I feel very sad today that there will be no more plays with Doug in this life. I do feel glad, however, that I had the opportunity to have several in my memory.
In one of life’s strange twists of fate, last night I was having a discussion about my evolved opinions. Even as we were sitting over our glasses of wine, the news was slowly spreading amongst friends that a director, actor, friend, teacher whom I met in the glory days of my theater involvement passed away quite unexpectedly.
It is sad, truly sad to lose a soul so swiftly from the earth. Especially one whom I always picture as full of life and humor and ideas. It is a really difficult thing to imagine that the snappy sarcasm won’t surface on my Facebook page or under a whisper after a show. That sorrow is undeniable… but then all these thoughts of the past nine months started colliding as I tried to go to sleep last night.
The truth is, community theater, even with all its flaws and imperfections and cruelty is a community. A chance to escape the outside world for a bit. And in the process, one collides with like-minded souls, kindred spirits, and other artists seeking to understand the all too brief life through a creative process. I was awestruck as I started thinking how this man not only created the projects from which I have memories that I will treasure to my dying day, but he also created the circumstance through which I met several of my near and dear friends. Friends who are also grieving at this major loss. Friends with whom, were it not for Doug Ingalls, I might not have crossed paths.
It is something how all the ugliness fades away. The meanness doesn’t matter as much as the celebration and the joy. In the end, what we hold onto are the good moments. The moments that make us laugh, make us smile, and make us want to understand what it is to be human and feel.
I feel very sad today that there will be no more plays with Doug in this life. I do feel glad, however, that I had the opportunity to have several in my memory.
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