“THE PLAY’S THE THING WHEREIN I’LL CATCH THE CONSCIENCE OF THE KING”

     There’s a line from “The Sound of Music” where the mother abbess says, “Every time God closes a door he opens a window”. And so it was that in 1993 as my 20+ year marriage wound down my daughter Stacy asked me to be in one of her plays.
I said “Yes.”
     For the next decade or so I had a love affair with the stage. Further, there seemed to be an urgent need then for fat male Fortysomethings with time on their hands that were neither afraid to be laughed with or at.
During the next several years I spiraled downward. I would try out for and grab parts in any show scheduled for performance on holidays, especially New Years Eve. Fear (and embarrassment) of being alone overwhelmed me. So it mattered not what part of town, I auditioned.
I gravitated toward musical comedy. Although my singing might best be left in the shower, I was always able to get my laughs. (Picture Vince Vaughn, not Michael Buble).
     As time ensued, directors cast me in bigger roles providing me solo bows at curtain call! I reveled in it. In those days the only pat on the back I ever got was the response of the audience.
     But it was, to be honest with you, still lonely. Ten minutes after the audience would roar with approval, I would be listening to the gray silence of the world I was in.
     And then I got sober. And my life began to change. I changed.
     Slowly, invisibly, my priorities were shifting. I had better things to do with my time, like, perhaps, growing up.
     I did 20 shows in the 90’s. It pushed me through a pivotal time. That time had, though, mercifully passed. I’ve done but one show this millennium (in 2005).
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     A few months ago my friend Alice asked me to be a part of her temple’s Purim skit.  Rehearsals once/week; one show only. I said “Yes.”
     They cast me as King Ahasueros of Persia, savior of the Jews, and gave me a few songs.
     The show went up last night and was fun, pure fun.
     I know why.   I’m not escaping any more, nor am I hiding on stage. I’m comfortable with myself, flaws and all. I can be alone at will and never ever feel lonely.
     One show per decade is therefore more than enough.
     Oh, and by the way, I got my laughs.

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