On Stage

I had to do a TV interview this week. I love the reason for the interview—showing off our nearly-finished auditorium—but I didn’t love the interview itself. If you know me, you already know I’m thoroughly uncomfortable in front of the camera. I prefer to submit my answers in writing and avoid video altogether. Alas, that was not an option this week. So the young roving reporter from a local news station came to school, Chuckie T. covered my class, and I stepped into tour guide mode. Tour guide, I can handle. I take myself on a tour every day!

Our new performing arts center is so close to completion that I can hardly stand the anticipation. At this point in the construction process, I walk down to the auditorium every day during my prep period. The workers know my face and some even know my name. They answer my questions, tolerate my wandering tendencies, and smile at my excitement. For many months, their progress was steady but invisible. Now, there are major visible changes daily. Two weeks ago, the stage was a dusty, sawdusty, cluttered mess. A week ago, the stage was clean, bare cement. Today, the stage has a multi-layer wood floor over spacers and insulation. It does not creak or echo or wiggle. If you ever walked across our former stage at the cafe-gym-a-torium, you understand. A silent, stable floor is a novelty. It’s even quiet when work crews in their heavy boots walk through! Stomp all you want. In case any former Crewbies or Kreg Krew happen to read this post, it’s almost time to . . . “Paint it Black!” If you know, you know.

Tomorrow begins the installation of audience seating. Somehow, that makes everything more real. I think the space will feel like an honest-to-God auditorium when the seats are in place. Then? Then lights! Lights from the battens, lights from the catwalk, lights on the ante-pro rails. I’m all atwitter over the lights. In two (or three) weeks, the many stage curtains will be in place, and our young actors will storm the stage.

It’s wild. The whole thing still seems surreal, but it’s tantalizingly close to being ours to use. During the interview, the reporter asked how it felt to watch this project take place. My answer is always sincere and always the same: We are blessed. I no longer toss around the word “blessed,” but we are. We are blessed by philanthropists who want to leave a legacy but not be known, who see value in the arts and recognize the family that forms around a stage. We are blessed and we are collectively determined to be good stewards of this gift—to do right by our program and the donor’s legacy.

Our current seniors were freshmen the year covid hit; we were four days from opening night when the state—and the school—shut down. The next year was also crippled by the pandemic. No show. Last year, we had our musical, but not on our stage or campus. This year, our seniors will have their first and last “home game” on our brand new stage. Blessed indeed.

And, because I can’t do much (anything) without thinking of Cooper, I think he would love this. In his curmudgeon-protégé way, he would love all of this. He’d be on the catwalk with me, or in the light booth surveying all he could see, or standing at the foot of the fly system, figuring out exactly how it works. Our brains aligned. He would marvel with me as the magic takes shape, and he’d feign indifference the entire time. But he’d be there, grumbling and problem solving and helping make magic. Both of us found some of our favorite people behind the scenes of RIHS shows, and we both keep going back, safely and quietly behind the scenes. These days, I carry my light guy in my heart and in a tiny urn tucked inside my shirt, but he’s with me. He’ll be there in the dark of the booth as I mutter and swear to myself over stupid, frustrating mistakes (I’ll hear his “Jesus Christ, Tonya” in my mind), but I hope his quiet confidence that I’ll figure things out can nudge me along as I try to learn a new system and do right by all we’ve been given.

If you find me talking to myself in the light booth, mind your business—I’m trying to figure stuff out.