Maimed

Generally, when I hear about a political or religious scandal, breaking, ultra-controversial news story, or tragic shooting  or earth-shattering arrest or trial, I try to reflect before making my opinion public.  In fact, there are some issues (such as the Trayvon Martin case) on which I really have no public comment – mostly because I either feel that my opinion doesn’t matter, or, more likely, that I don’t have enough information to go spouting off my thoughts.  I know I don’t have thousands of readers right now, but my blog is my platform, and it’s a reflection of me in every way.  I have passionate convictions, but I refuse to waste my time and talent by commenting on every single story that bubbles up on the news and social media feeds.  There’s much more to life than the media would have us believe – and a lot of it is actually wonderful. 

But “wonderful” doesn’t really sell very well, does it?

The recent news in regards to Clarion University’s ugly budget cuts, however, has me in an absolute rage.  I don’t want to hear any more before I share my opinion.  It might be too late if I wait.

Let’s start with why this cause is so dear to my heart.  I began school with the desire to be a secondary English education major, but before my first classes even started, I switched to English and Theatre, with concentrations in literature and acting, respectively.  I was not – and still am not – a drinker, but I spent a lot time hanging out with the guys who would later be my “brothers” – the big boys of Phi Mu Alpha, the music fraternity.   They were musicians and singers who worked on many – if not all – of the theatre department’s productions.  I liked these guys and, quite frankly, they were less intimidating and more intelligent than a lot of the other frat boys on campus.  They were a decent bunch to hang with – and they were talented.  They were dedicated.  They practiced their art and they cared about it.  Many of them were perfectionists in regards to their musical performance.  In fact, a lot of them were more professional than my own peers – the theatre majors, who were awesome people, but who (like me) sometimes waited ‘til the last second to learn lines or master accents. 

I was an insecure person in college, but my experience in music and theatre helped bring me out of my shell.  Many of you cannot begin to imagine me as shy, but my teenage years were full of reasons for me to become quiet and reserved.  Almost immediately following me religious rebirth at 16, I experienced a rebirth of expression in college.  Little by little, the demands of vastly different roles began to pull from me ideas, attitudes, and expectations I never knew I had.  Although I’m not proud of every role I played, I am proud that every role stretched me in some way, whether it was physically, mentally, or emotionally.  Working as an actor taught me discipline; it also taught me that there is a great deal hidden under the surface of every interaction in our lives.  Working as a director gave me a deep appreciation for “the big picture” and for how all working parts come together to form a complete machine.  Working as a designer  showed me how to bring imagination and creativity to life and blend it with practicality and purpose.  Working as a writer reinforced my first and foremost love of words and the knowledge that they carry more power than most of us ever realize.  Working with (sometimes) finicky musicians, (often) needy actors, (usually) demanding directors, and (occasionally) moody techies taught me how to deal with people in “real life”.  It taught me how to swallow my pride and be part of a team.  A greater good.

I wrote a lot.  A lot.  I read.  I acted.  I sang.  I directed.  I danced.  I designed.  I was utterly in my element.   I came alive.  Granted, my faith has and always will play a large role in my success; that is what I believe and it’s who I am.  But my time in college gave me the opportunities to spread my wings, shake my tail-feathers, and throw back my head and crow. 

Clarion is now denying that joy to future generations.

My heart is broken.

I know the decision is based on the budget.  I won’t pretend to understand all the intricacies of the decision.  I also won’t assume that the decision-makers are heartless, blood-thirsty and money-hungry, slashing at the arts purely for pleasure’s sake.  I genuinely don’t believe that.  But can I say something here about arts funding, please?

There are at least two (and probably dozens of) kids I’ve worked with in the past year who have told me that music is their life.  They’ve both been through some things that no teenage girl should ever have to deal with, but when they are dancing, singing, and playing music, they feel free and alive.  They don’t feel hurt or ashamed anymore.  Music heals them. 

I know a recently-divorced young mom who is supplementing her income by painting beautiful, commissioned artwork.  She studied art in school.

And, yes, since I am a Christian, I’m even going to bring my beliefs into this – you can say it undermines my argument, if you like, but that’s never really worried me before.  The Tabernacle, which was created to be God’s “mobile temple”, was full of finely-crafted utensils and decorations.  It was the carpenters who measured out the wood, but it was the artisans who wove the beautiful curtains and the silversmiths and goldsmiths who hammered metal into tables, basins, and lamps to glorify God.  In addition, many of the temple musicians were mentioned as being hand-selected.  These artists are actually named in the Old Testament.  God felt so strongly about these people's talents that he saw fit to name them in his Word – this is significant because there are central characters in Bible stories (The Good Samaritan, Lot's wife, etc.) who aren’t even given names in the Bible, but these artisans are.  (See the books of 1 and 2 Chronicles and Exodus in particular, for details.)

Do you even have any idea how often music and musical instruments are mentioned in the book of Psalms?  David himself – one of Israel’s greatest kings - was a musician.  Deborah and Miriam were musicians, leading crowds in victorious songs when enemies were defeated.  Music was a way of life, as intertwined with daily living as was eating or tending to livestock.    

I can’t understand why any university – or any establishment at all, for that matter – would allow such a vibrant and creative limb to wither and die.  Worse still, that anyone should willingly and painfully sever that very limb far before its time. 

Ars Gratia Artis, Clarion.  You don’t teach Latin, either, to my knowledge, so allow me to translate: “Art for art’s sake.”  That was the motto of Sigma Alpha Iota, an organization of which I was a part, and it is a way of life.  Not art for profit’s sake, or government’s sake, or even our own sake.

 

I'm still reeling over this recent explosion.  I really feel like a part of my identity has been shaken - challenged.  It wouldn't surprise me if this had been in the works for over a decade - as evidenced by things noticed by other alumni.  Marwick-Boyd, the music and arts building, was never finished or remodeled, even as new buildings were erected on campus.  In spite of numerous awards and honors collected by the faculty and students, I now have the vague and unsettling feeling that accolades from the highers-up were mere pats on the head, rather than triumphant victory laps.  

This all leaves me questioning my faith in higher education in general.  Coupled with the government's ridiculous policies regarding student loans (my husband works in financial aid; trust me, I've heard every excuse imaginable and every lame policy explained through a poorly-written script), I'm thinking that I may have been better off skipping college altogether and heading to New York or California, if I really wanted to be onstage.  Yes, I would have missed out on a lot of friendships and experience, but I also wouldn't be enduring the pit-of-my-stomach, bone-chilling heart-rending disappointment I'm trying to swallow right now.  I wouldn't be feeling like a loyal friend has turned on me.  I wouldn't be feeling like the college to which I pledged honor and a whole lot of money, that I talked up to incoming freshmen, that I even two weeks ago was still lauding, would be taking my hard-earned degree and treating it with indifference.

Do you see, indifference is often worse than hatred?  Apathy can be far more damaging than disrespect.  Hatred and disrespect, while painful, still move us to react.  Indifference and apathy teach us that our talents, beliefs, and identities are invalid and that our voices are powerless.

But I won't fall for it.

I am a person.  I am the arts.  And I have a voice.

Steak and "Seafood"

I just turned thirty-one years old.  It was painless.  But it still hurt.

I wanted the big Three-Oh to be the year I became a mother, or at least the year Ross got where he wanted to be at work.  I'm trying to take the good and the bad together; it's the year when I lost two of my three babies to miscarriage, got laid off work, and got stranded in West Virginia with an exploded radiator (the Neon has since recovered, thank you).  However, it's also the year that my little sis got married and I got to see my mom after almost three years!  It's the year that we adopted our adorable little Loki.  It's also the year an old friend reached out and sent us an unexpected blessing...

My pastor's parents, Fred and Diane, recently returned from a trip out east and couldn't stop talking about Jonah, the current production at Sight and Sound Theatre in Lancaster, PA.  After entertaining the idea that maybe Ross could use some vacation days and I could take advantage of my unexpected time off, I contacted my old fellow Clarionite Amy Bowers, who runs props for the show.  I asked if she had any suggestions as to where we should stay or shop while we were in her neck of the woods.  To my surpise, she offered us tickets and a backstage pass to see the show!  I literally cried when I read her message.  What a blessing after so many defeats!

Not one to settle for a show without a good meal, Ross spent $65 for a $100 gift card (yes, really) for Fogo de Chao - the Brazilian steahouse chain we first enjoyed on our honeymoon.  There was one located in Philadelphia, about an hour's drive from where we were planning on staying.  Another blessing: Ross's parents, concerned that my newly repaired car might not make the five-hour journey, lent us their Nissan.  We drove in comfort and style.  Alas, the car didn't have our Wyoming bumper sticker to make us even cooler, but that's okay.

Our dinner was wonderful - my favorite meat was the lamb chop, while Ross liked the filet wrapped in (what else?) bacon.  The servers were incredibly attentive and knowledgable, and they surprised me with a complimentary birthday dessert - vanilla bean and papaya sorbet.  Yum!  Apparently, Ross had informed them I was the birthday girl when I was in the restroom.  Enjoying a sweet treat was way better than having suffer through an off-key and half-hearted rendition of "Happy Birthday".

We stayed at a charming bed and breakfast in a tiny town called Bird-In-Hand (remember, we were in Amish country!)  The owners were pleasant and good-natured and their kids were too cute (breakfast was being served as their dad was walking them to the us stop).  We agreed that we would go back...even though I didn't get any sleep.  Apparently there was a mouse in the walls - and he had invited all his mousy friends for a dance party that lasted all night long.

The show itself, which we saw that afternoon, was pretty spectacular.  Although the book and lyrics were a little trite, the performance itself was beautiful, heartfelt, and moving.  The actors were all quite talented and I loved the costumes.  My favorites were the 300-inspired armor of the Ninevites - one of the actors was in what appeared to be six-inch platforms to make him more imposing!  Pastor Mark calls Sight & Sound the "Christian Broadway" and he's right.  The sets were breathtaking and yes - there was a whale, and yes - it was enormous.  The scriptwriters were bold in talking about faith - God is revealed as Jesus as the play ends, and an entreaty is made that unbelievers give Him a try.  There wasn't a lot of complicated dancing in the show, but it was so evident during the chorus numbers that the actors were genuinely worshiping God - not performing.  That gave me chills.

Seeing Amy again was the real treat, though.  I had worked with her in the costume shop in college and remembered two things in particular about her: she was one of the most sensible people I'd ever met, and I loved her perfume (Coco by Chanel).  Facebook being what it is, it was pretty easy to see that, since graduation, Amy had grown closer and closer to the Lord.  She posted pictures of mission trips.  Unlike many of our peers, her status updates were about joy, and excitement about God's plans for her.  Reading them began to give me hope about my future again, too.  Although I hadn't completely abandoned the idea that God had good in store for me, our recent trials had severely tested that belief.  Wondering if we were making any type of positive impact on the youth group...dealing with sorrow and pain over our lost children...unable to comprehend how losing my job fit into the Big Picture...these all weighed heavily on me.  But seeing someone I admired literally blossom with Christ's love restored my hope.   Although we don't keep in contact so much (after all, four hours is quite a drive for coffee and a chat), I am grateful not only for her generosity in providing me with a pretty sweet birthday gift, but that she is faithful in chasing after the Lord.  And it's my prayer that He does reward her with all the desires of her heart, whatever they may be.

Didn't hurt that we got to see her awesomely cute mom, too...even if she did remember what I looked like in Peter Pan!  :-/

Almost Famous

Like nearly everyone in my current circle of aquaintances, I am, alas, coming down with what appears to be a cold.  My first of the year.  Right before I start a new job.  Now, I ask you - is that fair?

No, it is not.  But there's little I can do these days, I feel, but brace myself for the storms of life.  So I will slurp my chicken soup and slather on the Vapo-Rub and get on with my writing.

And my contemplating.

Things haven't stopped rapidly changing for Ross and me since I last updated you all, gentle readers.  I was hoping that September was going to be a calmer month, with less drama.  Not so!  The month started out with good news: the doctor gave me the thumbs-up that my  surgery went well and I should be "ready to go" when Ross and I decide to try to start a family again.  Of course, we're not planning that anytime soon.  We're still dealing with our loss and a number of other changes in our lives, making this a particularly bad time to think about babies.  More good news followed, however; we learned that, despite a doctor's fears, my father did not, in fact, have skin cancer!  Hallelujah!

Then, we had to cancel our vacation (the first since our honeymoon almost two years ago) because Ross's truck needed repairs.

Look.  I try to be optimistic.  I have tried, with every job I've had, to be the friendly one.  The cheerful one.  The one who tries to see the good in people.  I wasn't always successful, but I tried.  I am still trying.  But I genuinely don't know how much more I can take!  Lord, help me bear this burden, because I feel like it's crushing my spirit!

Amid all this, two more huge changes occurred in my life.  The first was my accepting a new job.  Now, I hope I made it clear to everyone involved, and everyone who has asked, that I had no problems with Dollar Bank.  I enjoyed my job; I feel like I had good relationships with my co-workers, and I believed in the company.  I am just entering a time in my life where my personal responsibilities are becoming increasingly important to me, and I needed a work schedule that made those other responsibilities possible.  Although the manager who created the weekly schedules was more than fair in granting my schedule requests, I knew they would soon be too many to be fair to the rest of the team.  With rehearsal times, I would need every Thursday night off.  Tuesday nights would be nice, too.  And I really couldn't work Saturdays anymore.  I had to be available for church events.  For me, that was more important than a career I already understood, a swanky title, and job security.

Plus, I was tired of the pantyhose.

But that's neither here nor there.

The second big change actually occurred only a few days ago.  At Ross's urging, I auditioned for a company called AMTC (Actors, Models, and Talent for Christ).   The process is fairly simple: you audition.  If you get a callback, you take some online courses, meet with coaches, and prepare for a weeklong series of workshops and classes, culminating in auditions before some of the best in the industry - representatives from VH1, MGM, and plenty of other well-known companies.  It like finishing school for performers.  The difference is, the focus is on how not to compromise what you believe in an industry that is well-known for its questionable - or at least unpredictable - morals.

At any rate, I auditioned.  I spent little time preparing.  I had a lot of other things on my plate.  When I was 13, I had stored in a little but very cultured corner of my brain Margaret's monologue from Richard III.  It has served me well these past 17 years, rising up whenever an audition piece is needed.  I chose "God Bless the Child", a blues piece I had sung for a concert in college.  Neither piece was anything exemplary, but I owned them entirely.  They had become signature pieces.  So, armed with little more than my husband's encouragement, I auditioned.

On my audition form, I had been entirely honest.  I stated that I had performed in some shows in college that no longer reflect my values and beliefs.  I didn't want to return to the stage unless it was in a way that would glorify God.  Seems narrow-minded, maybe, yes, but it is what I want.  I listed my previous experience, including lead roles in college and the fact that I had continued writing and directing after college.

"Ah," said the elegant-looking German lady for whom I was auditioning.  "Ah, I see you played Fraulein Schneider!"

"Yes, I did," I said proudly.  It had been one of my favorite roles.

"I did, too!"

Her accent was better, of course,  but I gave it a go anyway.  I chatted briefly with her, in my best German accent, about the particulars of learning dialects.  She seemed charmed - I couldn't quite tell.

Then I performed my monologue and my song.  She asked me to perform a few more pieces, read a few lines, then thanked me.  She kindly asked what I would do if I were to get a callback.  I looked back at Ross and assured her that we would strongly consider moving forward.

I got a phone call the next day.  I had been prepared.  My answer was "no thank you."
Well...to be honest, it really wasn't a "no".  It was more of a "not right now."  I had prayed long and hard about my acting career the night before, and I had been in conflict all day about it.  It would involve a lot of hard work, time and money...not all of which I have in abundance right now.  I still believe completely that God has called me to use my talents on a larger scale...but I also believe that this isn't yet the time for me to move into that arena.

I sincerely thanked her, and let her know that my experience had been wonderful.  I told her that it meant the world to me for a total stranger to believe that I had potential.  Of course your parents think you're great, and teachers are supposed to build you up and encourage you...but for someone who doesn't know you from Adam (or, in my case, Eve), to say, "Yes, there is something here we can work with"...man, that means a lot.  She encouraged me to audition again when they were in town.  I believe that I will.

For now, I have a youth group to support, a theatrical group to co-lead, skits to write, a new job to learn, a husband to encourage, a family to love, a kitten to photograph, and disasters to avert.  My life is pretty full right now.

The stage can wait.  Maybe I'll be a star in my golden years...who's to say?  Only God knows. And I'm trusting that his timing is perfect.

A Muse of Fire...

...is how I will always remember Melissa Lynch.

Seriously, the girl was so passionate about everything you could almost feel sparks crackling in the air around her.  Physically, she was very pretty.  Pale skin, shining dark hair, a slight frame and a winning smile, but her eyes were what got you.  There was an intensity in them that was almost frightening.  It was as though she was about to lock horns with a stampeding bull - and end up with steak for dinner.  

It was one of her trademarks, that passion.

That same brand of passion didn't flow through all the actors I had met during my time at Clarion University.  Although there were many, many talented, adept, charming, brilliant people, that intense fire seemed reserved only for a few.  Miranda Scopel, for one.  She was one of those people whose fashion sense was from another era, who lived like she was dying, who could make any topic sound intriguing and maybe even a little scandalous.  Trevor Southworth was another.  He was another creature when he was onstage.  Almost inhuman, in the best possible way.  My God, these people were just...fireballs.  Not only good actors with good directorial and design instincts (there were a lot of people like that), but just so much energy and passion that sometimes you just wanted to sit them in a comfy chair with a blanket and a cup of chamomile tea to quiet them a bit.

I loved these people.  I always wanted to be one.  Melissa was one.

She was one of those versatile actresses who never got stuck in a certain type of role.  She played the innocent Wendy Darling in Peter Pan as adeptly and sincerely as she played the quiet, confident King of England in Henry V.  She had mastered numerous dialects and could whisk you to the hard-pressed streets of Brooklyn, New York, a southern plantation or the foggy, chilly coast of Ireland - with just a single phrase.

She was loud.  She was opinionated.  She loved to laugh and cause a scene.  She could be as proper or as unladylike as you could imagine, depending on her mood.  But there was nothing in the world she seemed to love more than the moment when she found her character...when she found the gesture she had been seeking, the tone of voice, the position, the stance, the motivation, the mood.  It was fascinating to watch, and an honor to be a part of.  I directed and acted with Melissa in several productions during the time we spent at Clarion, and if I were to honestly name the highlights of my educational career, she would be in the top two: directing Broadway Bound and acting in Henry V.  It was a thrill to pour my talent and passion into a performance with her, and I will never forget those opportunities I had.

Melissa went on to be among the few Acting graduates I knew who found success as an actor outside of college.  She returned to her hometown of Philadelphia and was building a career in reputable local venues when her life ended just a few hours ago.  She was involved in a car accident.  She wasn't even thirty.

She will be greatly missed.

The true magic of theatre is not in the set or the lighting or the music.  That takes talent and technology, and it is, of course, always a marvelous display of the work of the hands and mind of a designer or artist.  But creating a character out of nothing but black words on a white page is a different kind of magic.  It's the magic of the heart that only truly passionate actors ever get to share.  It's a spell woven by an enchantress who wants nothing more than to connect, to feel, to express.  And it's a love song that will spill over into every aspect of a life, even after that life has ended.  

Thank you, Melissa, for captivating us with your passion.  Thank you for reminding us that passion cannot survive without diligence and perseverance, and that passion is worthless without product.  Thank you for the memories that you have woven into our hearts, and for the great talent you shared so proudly and so freely, with those around you.  Thank you, Melissa, and good-bye.

"We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep."