Random Acts of Theatre--Joseph's Coat

The production of "Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat" was like no other!!!! From the tests and trials to the blessings and miracles, I have never felt or seen anything like it! We have grown as a team and the family of Random Acts of Theatre has grown even larger and more diverse. Remembering back to the chaotic first rehearsal and seeing the cohesive opening and closing nights, I am amazed!


Once we finally received the rights for a play, I was so excited to hear it was Joseph!!!! Not only is it one of my favorite Bible stories, but it is an amazing musical. A story about a boy who goes to the bottom of the bottom and because of his faith and trust in who God is, the Lord raises him to the top. A story of a dreamer that we can all relate to and a story of reconciliation that we all hope for.

As the wardrobe chief, I knew the infamous coat would be quite a project. How could I share my passion for Joseph through this coat? In my studying, I kept coming back to Genesis 37: 3 that says, " Now Israel loved Joseph more than all his children, because he was the son of his old age: and he made him a coat of many colours." I was particularly struck by the word colours. As I studied it more, I found the translation to mean pieces. So, this coat of many colours was actually a coat of many pieces. It struck something deep in me, something I didn't really understand until recently!

As rehearsals and production meetings started and a vision for the costumes began to come together, the coat was always at the back of my mind and I was still looking for a way and some direction. I had NO idea where to even start. I had started picking up different scrap material when I was shopping for other costumes, because I at least knew it had to be colorful and made of different pieces. The director and I both had a picture in our heads of what the coat would look like, but I didn't see how it would all come together, much like the production itself!

Several of us worked on the coat the first work day, cutting out different colors and sizes of fabric. We also started making our own patchwork fabric, by sewing together the pieces. Different ones giving of their time to work towards a result we couldn't see. That day, as one of the producers and I were talking, we started thinking on how this coat, the REAL and first ever made coat, actually worn by Joseph, would have come together. Here, in this day and time, we have scissors, sewing machines and a store to buy the fabric from. Joseph's father would have had to have someone make the fabric, dye it, then hand stitch it all together. It really touched me and showed me the love and labor that went into the coat. How much care and time would have been spent to get this splendid, golden lined result. I wonder if they knew what it was going to look like before they started working on it?!

I continued to work on making the fabric as I could for the next few weeks, still not sure how the end result would look, but still moving forward. A friend came over one night to work on it and we made some more progress, but we still had a VERY long way to go. Different ones had already put in soooo many hours of labor and our time was coming up quickly! We only had almost half of the fabric we would need. So, we sent out a call for help, to get some other costume projects completed and get some more help with the coat!

On a Saturday, two weeks before opening night, things started to come together. A team of people moved costumes, sorted costumes, and cut and sewed fabric. People that have never even thought about sewing or working with fabric, were able and willing to do what was asked of them. We also had a crew helping with costume parade (where we look at all the costumes together scene to scene to make sure they all flow) that day. It was a very productive day! I could finally see things coming together, there was a team working together for a common cause! It wasn't just about the production or the coat. All the PIECES were doing their part. The fabric was almost finished after that day of labor. It took two more days of work and trials for the coat to come together and be complete.

After 84 or so (those are just the ones I know of) hours, numerous prayers, two pair of scissors dying, 3 bobbins breaking, 5 needles breaking, 10 bundles of thread and 9 yards of fabric, Joseph's Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat was complete and on stage two days before opening night. Never in the. history of RAT Co have the costumes been done before opening night.

The thing I keep thinking on is how each piece is so important. Whether it is a piece in a process, a piece of a team, a piece of a puzzle, whatever the piece, nothing is complete without all of them playing their part and being in place. It is truly something AMAZING to see each piece come together to create a beautiful result!

Dreams

My wife and I had our first child about 15 months ago, shortly after moving to Selma. Fatherhood has been one of the great learning experiences of my life, and I've consistently been awed by the growth of our little one and humbled by the many occasions where my interactions with her highlight the need for further growth in myself.

One of the memories I expect I'll have with me for the rest of my life was the day my daughter was born. I imagine I could write fifty blog posts about the unique experiences of that day. I'll limit myself to one for now.

After she went through the bathing and vaccinating regimen that follows birth and came back to Mom and me, the little one was pretty tired. I watched her as she first dozed, then went into deep sleep. She lay there peacefully, her eyes dancing back and forth under her eyelids. It had been quite some time since I had watched someone sleep, but I remembered learning somewhere that what I was observing is called REM (rapid eye movement) sleep and is the sleep phase commonly associated with dreaming.

I remember being struck by this. What, I wondered, could a child who had lived all of three hours in this world possibly have to dream about?

In the intervening months, I've been witness to many wonder-filled firsts, from her first smile to her first tentative steps, and even her first successful try at using the potty. She's mastered her balance and her first hundred or so words and is growing quickly into quite a little lady. I no longer wonder what the stuff of her dreams is, as she has an active imagination and a year's worth of experiences to draw on.

In addition to the joys of raising up our little one, I've had the great privilege of getting to meet and spend time with a group of Selma's young people in the past year. About a week ago, I found myself in a room full of boys ranging in age from 12 to 19. They're in one of the key formative stages of their young lives, and we got to talking about their dreams.

A couple of the older boys started sharing about the interactions they've had with a few Freedom Foundation volunteers who have invested a lot in them. Both boys reported a renewed sense of hope from the experiences of the past year. One said that for the first time in his life, he could see a future for himself as something other than a professional athlete, a rapper, or a drug dealer. The odds of anyone making it big in pro sports or the music industry are pretty slim, so the last of this trio of options, while the least appealing, is also the most likely for a young person with such a limited pool of dreams.

I left our time that night thinking about the power of dreams. Not pie-in-the-sky, never-gonna-happen fantasies or sickly, this-is-the-best-you-can-hope-for nightmares, but grand dreams bolstered by the substance of positive experience. Once dream-deprived young people begin to learn that they're capable of more than what they've seen and done in the past, the trajectory of their future tends to change radically. Suddenly, they find themselves asking questions like “Who says I have to settle for the mold society tries to force me into when it doesn't represent who I am?” and “Why couldn't I go to college—even if no one in my family has before?” and “What's to say I can't turn out to be a great dad and a supportive husband?”

As for those two boys who shared about their new set of dreams? One is a first-year student at a local college. He's a natural leader, a nonconformist, and an increasingly positive influence on those around him. The other, a junior in high school, has learned to drop the hard façade he used to hide behind to protect himself and fit in among his peers. He's rediscovering the freedom to be the sensitive young man who got lost in the transition from junior high to high school. Both have sweet hearts, as evidenced by the ways they interact with little Sophia—I'm finding that as her dad, I'm developing a sense for when someone really loves her. I'd say they make a fine pair of older brothers, and I sure hope as she grows up they'll help teach her to dream big.

Jubilee 2009

Today, I marched through Selma for my second Jubilee weekend. One year ago, I sang in a diverse choir at Brown Chapel, and absorbed the remarks of John Lewis, Al Sharpton, and Jesse Jackson. That bright Sunday morning, the sun peered through the stained glass windows, and shined right onto a young African American teenager who stood up in her pew to interrupt John Lewis' talk. She asked if she could say something to Congressman Lewis, and even though someone tried to stop her breach of protocol, she insisted on continuing her sentiments. As someone whispered to Mr. Lewis that the spirit was moving her, he let her continue.

She thanked Mr. Lewis for his courage, and for everything he did during the movement as a young man, and told him that if not for his actions, she would never have the opportunities that she has today.

She then walked up to the front and gave him a hug. The service continued. This small gesture was reminiscent of the days of the civil rights movement mass rallies--they sang when the spirit said sing and they spoke when the spirit said speak.

This time around, I marched once again down Selma's Martin Luther King Boulevard, up Selma Avenue, and onto Broad Street, which leads to the Edmund Pettus Bridge. The sun beat down on our heads, and I listened to a young journalism major from California share about her interest in social justice. She talked about her recent experience with interviewing Los Angeles Skid Row transients, and marching next to her reminded me of old photos that I've lost myself in, of the everyday people who came to Selma in 1965 to make a difference.

Mostly young people, these marchers saw injustice and pursued this opportunity to fight for a cause. This year, as I sat among 400 SCLC members in church, I was reminded that Bloody Sunday wasn't a march with thousands of marchers like the March on Washington, but one of just 200 dedicated freedom fighters. These individuals stepped outside the doors of Brown Chapel, and trodded beyond the warnings of danger to that Edmund Pettus Bridge, because sometimes it only takes a few to provoke an enormous impact. Sheyann Webb shared that participating in this march as a young child left the greatest imprint of any event in her life. I understand now, more than ever, that no matter how young or old a person is, no matter how light or dark their skin color, and no matter what their level of education, a person with both conviction and courage to stand for the right thing can help spark a change that would be worth interruping church for.

Winning the Jonathan Daniels Award

The Jonathan Daniels Youth Award has got to be my most prized possession as of now. I am honored to call it mine. I’ll give you a short synopsis of my story.

I am the son of a recovering alcoholic and a no-show dad. Pretty sad, huh? Don’t get me wrong, I love my parents. If it wasn’t for them, I wouldn’t be here today. But I don’t love the method of parenting they used to raise my siblings and me.

Due to my mother’s alcoholism and her poor choice in husbands, my family grew up in poverty. But that’s not completely bad in itself. Being poor has a way of humbling one (the glass half full).

Over the years that passed I found myself struggling severely. It was partly because of the poverty and the lack of guidance I received from parents, but also because of the lack of spiritual guidance I received. This all changed in the fall of 2007. I transferred to a new school and met a really cool teacher I’ll call “Sylvia McIntyre.”

Sylvia was an angel. She connected me with her church (now OUR church) and got me that spiritual guidance I desperately needed. Soon I found new confidence and freedom I never knew existed inside of me. The Lord really touched me over time and moved in ways that astounded me such as getting into the college of my choice (miracle!).

And then I found myself at Martin Luther King program sponsored by the volunteer organization I am a part of (the Freedom Foundation). I thought I was simply giving a speech to encourage the youth, but I learned that there was an award to be presented with my name on it!

Once again, I’m honored to own the Jonathan Daniels Youth Award. It represents the change that God has done in me. The character that he’s growing in me. And it looks cool! Come on, people, I’m eighteen, I had to throw in the word “cool” to let you know just how hip I am!

Reflecting on Seussical

As auditions are closing for the next production, I'm remembering a night when things really started to gel for Seussical…..

At a rehearsal for the lead characters of Seussical the Musical, my eyes were really opened more to the heart of our new theatre company here in Selma. Each part of the team had a specific task for the evening and all came together and worked collectively to have a productive rehearsal. We had the choreographer working with the Wickersham brothers, the monkeys. The assistant director was working with the bird girls and herself, Mayzie, on their vocals and dance. The two leads were working on their solos with the director. And one of the production team was off to the side talking with one of the parents.

I was watching the Wickershams practice, on a very tiny stage, starting and stopping the CD player while they learned their dance. It started with the choreographer showing two of the cast members, the monkeys, some of the ideas she had for their solo dance piece. It’s the part of the play where the monkeys are making fun of Horton, the elephant. It was incredible to see the two boys take the choreographers ideas and embrace them and make them their own. Part of what I love about Random Acts of Theatre Company is the freedom that it gives everyone involved to be themselves. In this case, what could have easily become a competition between the two boys, actually gave them an outlet to work together and make the dance their own, together. With some guidance and direction from the choreographer, they combined their talents and created a gift to share with the community and the other cast members.
What really touched me last night was the end of the rehearsal. It was time to wrap up and “close up shop,” but the kids really were excited to show each other what they had worked on and didn’t want to leave. So, the director asked each group to take the stage for a little show and tell. First up were the Wickershams showing off their solo dance with everyone else cheering them on, laughing and clapping, some rolling on the floor. And Horton, the elephant, saying, “Oh, those monkeys are mean, why can’t they just be nice? I haven’t done anything to them!”

Then Mayzie and the bird girls took the stage and did a little Latin groove number, teasing and trying to persuade Gertrude, kind of an awkward bird, to conform to the world so Horton will notice her. It was really fun to start to see the characters taking shape with these five girls. After the first two groups, everyone was laughing and having fun, really enjoying things coming together after only a few rehearsals.

Next, Horton and Gertrude took the stage. They shared a song where Gertrude is trying to be noticed by Horton and Horton is occupied by trying to find his clover. There is nothing more beautiful than people, sharing their voices and their hearts for their causes in such a vulnerable way, up on stage. It was really sweet and all of us in the audience were in tears by the time they were done performing. Still no one wanted to leave; it was such a special night.

I was able to look back at the first production, Footloose, and see how much each of the production team has grown and is able to play their part, whether it’s as an actor, director, or choreographer, or someone taking time to listen to a parent's heart for their child. What I was able to see was how each piece is so vital to a complete and successful show.

I was able to see an actor, being a part of the cast; they can be an example, by being on time, knowing their lines and blocking, so that they can concentrate on encouraging their other cast members. As a director one can teach and hold up a standard that most of the cast has not seen before. As a friend one can listen to the cast and parents, we can understand them and love them. It is so much bigger than a show. We are here to demonstrate the Lord's love, to show this city that they are special and not forgotten about. I can see how powerful the message will be because of each person's testimony; it connects them into their character and will allow the viewers to really be a part of their heart, if only for one night, it will be something that they will always remember.

Random Acts of Theatre

RATco recently held auditions for its fourth production (Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat) and it got me thinking about the theatre company I've had the pleasure of working with in Selma.

In a town as divided as Selma, it's so encouraging to see kids and grown-ups of all different ages and backgrounds come together to do something bigger than themselves. Disregarding the cultural and traditional barriers between them, I have seen people reach out and work together to create something beautiful, coming to rehearsal after rehearsal, working their hearts out to make it a good show. Although all ages participate (from a 5-year old all the way up to a 65-year old) there are a large number of young teenagers in the cast, many of them repeat performers from several very different schools. Kids from the exclusive private school sing and dance right alongside kids from some of the poorest areas of town, and bond with each other through their hard work towards a common purpose.

In our very first musical (Footloose), very few of the kids had ever even been on a stage before, let alone been a part of a production that size. None of us really knew what the response would be in the community, but we were hopeful and excited. The final night of dress rehearsal, most of the actors forgot their lines, the lights wouldn't work right, and parts of the set actually toppled over--it couldn't have gone worse! But the next night, opening night, the atmosphere was electric--every seat in the theatre was filled, black and white sitting together, everyone eating popcorn and having a good time. And we put on an incredible show (nothing like the dress rehearsal). We sold out every performance of Footloose in the local downtown performing arts center, and signed up a lot of people who wanted to audition for the next production.

The summer show was an easier show to put on, with less rehearsal time and only one performance. But on the one-night-only of our performance, our director (who was also the entire band) got very sick, and couldn't even get out of bed! But the cast, crew, and production team came together and put on the show anyway, proving that it was about the team, not just the person in charge. It turned out even better than we had hoped for, and stirred up so much interest in the community that 85 people came out to audition for the next production including Selma's chief of police and his entire family.

We had decided to do a Dr. Seuss musical for the fall 2008 show, which has several parts for small children in it--so I invited some children I know to come try out for it, including the autistic little boy I do therapy with. He did an amazing job singing his little song for auditions, and has been a great (and truly precious) addition to the cast. Although working him into the cast has not come without its challenges! Every rehearsal, I worked with him on-on-one (in the middle of the group) to teach him the choreography, the words to the songs, where to go when, etc.--not to mention standing still, paying attention, and staying in the game. It was hard for him, but so good for him! He played a Who child from Who-ville and learned all of the dance moves, including swimming like a fish. Best of all, he learned to connect with the other cast members--young and old. This from a kid who couldn't even speak when spoken to less than a year ago. He's come a long way, and having the chance to be a part Seussical is better than anything he's getting at school, according to his mother. He came to rehearsal with a big smile on his face, and ran over to wherever I was. It taught me soo much about how to reach him
and teach him the things he needs to know.

My experiences with him have also inspired me to go back to school and pursue a career in special education (autism, specifically). My little friend made leaps and bounds and joined the rest of the cast on stage for opening night. I think everybody wants to find some kind of work that is worth doing, that makes a difference --and I have found mine.

Lies Our Students Tell Themselves

by Cynthia Gibson
(Part of the 'Why I Teach' series)

"I'm too poor and too black."

That's what one student told me not long after I started teaching here in Selma, Alabama. He didn't beat around the bush, and I wasn't just reading some subtle message into his behavior. He said it plainly — that he was "too poor and too black" to make it in this world.

I hear statements like that from my students far too often. They have opened my eyes to the battle I face every day. As teachers, each time we step into the classroom we vow to fight the lies that hold our students down.

I've been immersed in the culture of Selma for the past 15 months. The world knows Selma as a focal point of the Civil Rights Movement. Presidents and presidents-to-be have come here to commemorate the city's role in the struggle for equal voting rights.

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3rd Annual Dr. King Celebration

At the Third Annual Martin Luther King Celebration, the Freedom Foundation honored several Selma community members with lifetime achievement, courage and youth awards.

In preparation, I interviewed two of the recipients: Jean Martin and Annie Cooper.

Annie Cooper was a foot soldier of the Civil Rights Movement. A photo of Ms. Cooper's struggle with four officers, including Sheriff Jim Clark, ran in the New York Times on January 26th, 1965 and provoked national sympathy and support for the voting rights struggle.

Jean Martin is a true public servant. She has demonstrated a commitment to doing what she believes is right, no matter what the cost. I had the opportunity to chat, look through family photos and reminisce with these two special women. And though my official reasons have ended, I'll continue visiting my new friends.

I was happier to hold the flowers for these two special women and to sit backstage, unable to hear much of the program, than I would have been to present an Oscar for best actor or to sit at the 50-yard line at the Super Bowl. These aren't heroes of entertainment or of physical strength—they are heroes of courage.

One young man who once said he was "too poor and too black" to go to college, gave a speech that started with, "I know what it's like not to have running water. I know what it's like to be made fun of for old, dirty clothes" and crescendoed with the proclamation that he has been accepted to Samford University. He ended with a challenge to the youth and his final words brought the audience to its feet: "Yes we can."

As one of the 40 plus choir members, I wasn't there to showcase my beautiful voice (it's not) or to be seen (I feel awkward on stage). I was there for one purpose: to sing my heart out for the award recipients and for the crowd that gathered to honor them.

Though the night was long, I left filled with energy and stayed up discussing the highlights of the evening and laughing with friends.

When I finally crawled into bed, I fell asleep with a companion I cherish—contentment.