September 10th, 2003
8:05 A.M.
I will go right ahead with:
Week!
Humpday Quote of the
The way to love anything is to realize that it might be lost.
-- G. K. Chesterton
I don’t remember as much about this play as I do the previous two. Mainly because I no longer have either program or script from it. But, I do have some golden memories from it.
In this play, I didn’t have a very big part. It was smaller than a main character, larger than a walk-on. I played a police officer that was called in to investigate a complaint of a gunshot being heard at a loud party. The idea behind this character is that he was just about to get off work when he got the call, so I had to play him at my cranky best. I got to talk to everyone like a big jerk, and totally dominate the scene. Then I left, and the play went on for a short while before concluding.
But, the main memory for this one….this is where I finally got to meet, and talkto Amy. She was second assistant director, so technically for a short while, she was my boss.
Truth be told, though, I had had my eye on her since one of the first days at this school. In my sophomore year, I saw her drive past as I was hanging out before classes one day. You know how you catch a glance at someone…you think that they are incredibly cute, and you feel like you have to talk to them? Well, that’s the way I felt the first time I saw her. I asked the people standing near me if they knew who she was (I thought it would be easier if we had a friend in common. Turns out, we did…But, I didn’t find out about that ‘til years later, right, D?) No one could tell me who she was, and I had no classes with her…and I never would.
Right away, I noticed that, even while she was calling out orders to us, she was fairly quiet…almost mousy, but she still had enough presence to keep any of us from walking all over her. And, when she wasn’t in assistant director mode, she came across as painfully shy. She always had her shoulders slumped forward, and her head down. I rarely saw her with her head held up. But, somehow, she was still beautiful. I still wanted to talk to her. I needed to know about the human being that I saw there.
I was delighted the day I walked into the auditorium, and saw her sitting with the drama teacher. I knew I had a good couple of months to talk to her….All I had to do was to work up the nerve to do so…
What is it about some of us actors? We can perform in front of hundreds of total strangers, but when it comes to approaching someone to strike up a friendship (possibly more), we choke? I can strut and fret upon a stage but, dammit, when I want to talk to some female I like, I shut down? Or, at the worst, turn into a babbling fool? I might be lucky…that was just a phase with me. I don’t carry on that way anymore. If I like them, I talk to them, and that’s that. I suppose a couple of resounding, thorough heartbreaks can do that to you.
But, anyway, I did start talking to her. She was just as beautiful on the “inside” as she looked on the outside.
She also had some amazing strength, too. I mean, over all, she was a fairly cheerful young lady, but she had a very tragic life. Things had happened to her that would have broken just about anyone else (it definitely would have broken me) but she still got up every morning, and was still involved with life. Anyone who knew her knows what I’m talking about. I will write no more about her actual life until I hear from her family that it would be ok to do so.
I will however, write about what I learned from her. I learned that, no matter what kind of tragedy happens, life still goes on…you can go on with it, or you can let it pass you by. The best choice, though, is to go on with your life. You do have to leave yourself some time to grieve, though.
I also learned that laughter will return to you after sad things have happened. You will be able to laugh again. The human spirit is remarkably resilient. Just when you think sorrow will never end (and it never truly does), it will lighten up and become almost intangible once again.
And, to reinforce the lessons from Star Wars, do not allow tragedy to turn you bitter and angry…for anger leads to hate, and hate leads to suffering.
This is what I learned from her while she was alive…when I was calling her every weekend for the next year and a half (it could have been closer to two years).
I think of these as the most important life lessons I’ve ever had.
Thus concludes Episode III. Stay tuned for:
Someone Waiting by Emlyn Williams (1991-1992 Fall)
And concluding on Friday with:
Wait Until Dark by Frederick Knott (1992-93 Fall)
(With more of the story of Amy.)
posted by David Aaron at 8:14 AM
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