when i cried

I have been a part of Reflections for the better part of my seven years living in Richmond, and I have never truly cried in drama. But there have been tears. Once was during “The Secret Garden” term (’04 edition), during one of our all-day workshops which occurred, annually, close to show-time. We, an intimate group of twenty or so, sat in the dark as Aunt Jean had us listen to “You Raise Me Up” - sung by Josh Groban. First she said, “Listen to this as a song you would sing to each other.” Then we listened to it again, prefaced by: “Now, this is us, singing to God.” By the time the lights were back on, I think tears had welled in nearly every eye. It remains one of my favourite drama memories.

Also occurring within “The Secret Garden” bubble of time, I actually became teary-eyed during one or two of the performances, during the finale “You Can Do It.” True, my character would most certainly have been tearing up, but it’s never been easy for me to cry on command unless my heart is in it. And yes, though those songs are, I suppose, corny… and some can get…old…that song is so powerful and emotional in my memory. It is as applicable to students as it is to Colin and Archie.

“Fiddler on the Roof” was an emotionally charged camp in a lot of ways- even besides the heart-wrenching emotion that went into the show itself. The culmination of it for me, as I remember it very precisely, was just before the final curtain call, tearing up slightly and kissing my dear Tzeitel. Some always cry during and right after curtain call- but that’s about as close as I ever got.
Until this year. Until we finally did the story of care-free childhood, with the most grown-up sentiments being homesickness, affection, and loyalty. Ironic, isn’t it?

This camp, though bringing all the pleasures of being involved in my beloved “Peter Pan” was not without its stressful moments. I was suspended between the children and the leaders- more than once asked, “Are you a camper?” In fact, I was the oldest camper. Something I (thankfully) only realized after the production. A first, for me. And though I struggled in balancing Pan with my looming directorial commitment, The Glass Menagerie, it was a marvelous and fun experience.

Unbelievably enough, the cast performed perhaps closest to perfection as we ever have. Nearly all of our glitches during shows came from music cues or lighting which was a bit off. Nobody forgot crucial cues or dances (although Peter never could quite get the “I Gotta Crow” lyrics perfect. *wink*) - even though we all agreed that certain ensemble numbers could have used an extra week of rehearsing! After thirty-six hours of personal distraction and stress (mostly due to then-unresolved situations which affected me, but were out of my hands)… come show-time, I was pretty perfectly at peace.

The shows felt very relaxed, because we had our parts down so well. Just before the last show I must have had a wonderful kick of something- for I was literally bouncing and dancing with my pre-set children just before the musicians started up (Wendy laughed at me). Everyone had marvelous energy during that final performance, and lights and music went oh, so smooth. As we lined up in the green room for bows, I glanced once at my Wendy and tears almost came. I was so proud of her. She had come so naturally into this part, she who had not yet even had a speaking role in previous plays. She simply beamed with joy and post-show excitement; I felt the way she looked. I think instead of crying I ran up, hugged, and kissed her. Then the moment passed. And I thought, there’s my “Peter Pan” emotion, come and gone.

And then the oddest thing happened. I glowed and bounced during curtain call, applause, and post-show hugs. I bear-hugged every cast mate I could get my hands on. Then I was in the back, having had more laid back conversations with a few different audience members, and I saw Rachel. I imprisoned her presently in my hug, and thought (and, I think, told her something of) how I never expected her to meet my Pan standard. And she had met it. And, oh, I’ve watched her grow and mature, and face disappointment after disappointment when it comes to plays- and all in good season. I remember jumping up and down when I read on my email that she had been cast as Anne Shirley. I remembered her captivating Pan audition that totally took me by surprise. I thought of how, by the last show especially, her movements, face and tone were so like a little boy. And I was so relieved we had pulled it off, that I cried. I hugged her, and I laughed, and I inexplicably cried, (all at the same time) burying my face in her shoulder. And I looked up, and she was crying and laughing with me. And we both laughed some more, because we never cry after shows.

I suppose it was fitting, although humorous for me, still, in retrospect. My happiness was overflowing. My heart was as full as it could have been with pleasure and pride in seeing the growth and accomplishments of the people I love most in the world. I suppose that was it. I just didn’t have room for anything else- so I had to let something out.

(Well, the run on the lawn we had afterward helped with that, too.)