The Post-Show Blues...

Having been involved in the art of theatre since 1984 (or third grade, depending on whether or not you consider school plays,) I have experience my fair share of openings and closings.  They all, to varying degrees, consist of the tingling anticipation of rehearsals, the roller coaster thrill of the production, and the jarring reality of the end-of-the-ride brakes being applied despite my most ardent wishes.

My Bucket List of  characters has for a great many years included Daddy Warbucks, the confident, brazen billionaire who loses his heart to an 11-year-old orphan name Annie.  Some dismiss this show as "fluff;" it is far from it.  While the themes tackled by "Annie" may not be as seemingly earth-shattering as something by Pinter, Mamet or Brecht, it is sometimes the more down-to-earth, personal themes that touch closer to home; those of human need, longing, loneliness and love.  Warbucks was a man who cared for nothing but money and his beloved city of NYC, but by the time he is through singing "Why Should I Change a Thing?" he has come to the slow but undeniable realization that to be alone is the most terrible condition of all.  Annie, in all her ebullient optimism, is the only one who can save him.

There have been shows I have walked away from with little remorse once their run has ended, shows I have closed without much concern over who I kept in contact with, and some shows I have kept within me as small orbs of glowing joy.  I have worked with people whose names I can barely recall, and others who have become lifelong friends.  I cannot remember, however, a time when tears were brought to my eyes with the sounding of the final note.  Paige, our marvelous "Annie," was in tears as she came out to sing "Tomorrow" with us at the curtain call; she later brought me to tears as we hugged, and I whispered to her, "I'm going to miss this."

I do miss this.  And I thank all those from the Lake Plains Players, friends old and new, who made this a production that will be missed by many. 

This is the beautiful paradox of theatre; we create something ephemeral that lives forever.