Friday, February 18, 2011
Commit Art, Change Your Life
Today is Yoko Ono's birthday and how do I know this? No, I am not the Uber-Ono fan, although I do adore her. How can you not adore someone who looks like this and who is seventy-eight years old?
No. I know because my son gave me such a wonderful calender for Christmas and instead of silly things like National Give Your Mailman A Greeting Card Day, he noted dates that he knew were important to me. Thus:
Ah, Hank. Thank-you.
Anyway, good morning and hello and I have been up since too early because the refrigerator repair guy called at sevenfuckingthirty to tell me he was on his way out.
Our ice maker had some issues.
So now it's fixed and I've watered the indoor plants and made the bed and started laundry (bless our appliances- how I love them) and here I am, writing this and I suppose it was a good thing that he woke me up and made me shove myself out of bed.
I was mostly lying there thinking about how much my hand was bothering me anyway.
Owen is coming in an hour or so and he'll be here to play with until three-thirty and then I'll run around and try to get myself together for tonight's performance and let me say that last night went quite well. It did.
Those Altrusa ladies are aces when it comes to audiences and they WANT us to do well, I can tell, and they want to have a good time and so they do and therefore, we do too.
We made 'em laugh, we made 'em cry.
There were a few glitches but we smoothed over them and I doubt anyone really noticed. And I almost knocked over the set when I entered with a box and hit the walls but what are you going to do except be more careful next time? I dropped things, things fell over. Whatever. Truvy is clumsy, I guess. Her shop is cluttered and so it would be, don't you think?
Before we took our places, Jack gave us all a pep talk and then Judy, who is the stage manager, gave us another and came around and said, "Gimme five" to each and every one of us and when she got to Caleb, he pulled a ten dollar bill out of his pocket and handed it to her and said, "Here's ten," which cracked us all up and you know why I do these plays, don't you?
It's because it's such a damn joy to get to play with people, to learn to trust them, to have them trust you, to share jokes and worries and although our last few productions have been somewhat fraught with serious real life events, in the end the show goes on and for those few hours, what we're doing onstage is real life, somehow. Some way.
I swear. Since I've been at the opera house, one woman had to drop out of a role due to breast cancer, one got cancer in his eye and then he died, one got diagnosed with cancer, two people (the lovers) left their spouses and moved in together, elderly parents have died...
Life and death stuff.
Love and loss stuff.
Struggle and smile stuff.
We carry on.
I've met people I never would have met and I've fallen in love with them. For real. I met Kathleen at the Opera House. Just think- she would have been living in Jefferson County, this woman who inspires and delights me, who has taught me so much including how to make soap- and I never would have known her if we hadn't both been in Casablanca together. That woman saved my life at one point and what would have happened without the world of fake-believe to bring us together?
And let's face it- I certainly wouldn't have ever dyed my hair red if it wasn't for the Opera House.
Okay. I've lost my focus. No, I never had one.
Happy birthday, Yoko Ono. You keep on doing what you do, looking beautiful and pinching the butt-cheek of the world, sticking your tongue in the mouth-cheek of the serious, telling us that peace can be given a chance.
And let's all remember that art isn't frivolous or unnecessary or without complete and utter importance in our lives. That whether we make art alone or with others, it changes lives.
I don't know much but I do know that.
Hank's calender tells me it's a full moon tonight so in the words of another artist, Howl.
Feed your chickens, feed yourself. As The Dishwasher and The Woman On The Verge say, "Commit art."
Happy Friday, y'all.