We're coming up on the year anniversary of the Jonathan Daniels Pilgrimage, held in Hayneville, AL which I try to make every year. I wanted to share my reflections from last year and encourage people to attend this year, too:
Today I got a glimpse into the life of Jonathan Daniels, a white Episcopalian seminarian who was murdered in 1965 in Hayneville, AL. We gathered at the Lowndes County Courthouse lawn, marched to the jail where he was held, and visited the storefront steps where Jonathan was killed.
I dripped sweat in the heat of the day, and a young man actually fainted from dehydration as we stood in front of the former Varner's Grocery Store where Jonathan was murdered. I can only imagine what it was like for the 29 prisoners in that tiny jail, in the August heat. They were arrested and jailed for picketing white-only stores. My skin crawled at the small, rusted, metal cells. I learned that Jonathan was offered release, but refused to leave behind the African American marchers. He was later released with the other protesters, and when he, a white priest, and two other black protesters went to the grocery store down the block, a man shot at 17-year-old Ruby Sales. Jonathan stepped in front of the bullet to protect Ruby and was instantly killed.
Jonathan Daniels's life touches and inspires me. Like me, Jonathan left his home and school for what he saw as a worthwhile cause. He didn’t just come for a couple of days to march with the masses – he left everything behind and melded his life with the people. He lived with an African American family in Selma in the 60's, when he could have been killed by a bigot at any moment. He brought groups of young African Americans to the Episcopal Church services. He marched and protested in even the smallest towns in the area, and gave his life for one African American teenager.
Jonathan's life could be so easily missed. He was just one man in the midst of hundreds of race-related murders in the South. But I feel a connection to him. When God pricked his heart to act, he acted; he sacrificed his plans and changed the course of his life. To me, today is the beginning of my part in making sure his death is not in vain, and seeing that his story lives on to inspire others.
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Their Time has Come
Last night I attended the 4th annual Martin Luther King, Jr. celebration in Selma. I was there last year, too, when they honored Annie Cooper, Jean Martin, a young man in high school, and others. I left the event last year, thinking “we need to do this more often.” It was so great to see time set aside to encourage people who are living their lives with integrity. So often it seems like people nitpick and tear each other down, and it was refreshing to see people being built up.
This year actually topped last year’s experience for me. The story that touched me the most this time was the Concordia Men’s Soccer Team. These guys won the USCAA Men's National Championship, and I don’t think very many people in Selma even knew about it! Their perseverance and heart tugged at me – they fought hard during the season to make it to the championship. They practiced wherever they could find field space, and played their games on a baseball field. Some had to choose the team and school over family to keep playing. And then when the championship came, they didn’t even have enough money to take the trip. They could have given up at many points along the way, but instead they rallied friends, family, and the school to support them, they did fund-raisers, and pulled together enough money to travel.
On the way to nationals, their bus got a flat tire, which set them back several hours. Then when they finally ended the 30+ hour bus trip to Vermont, they had to play the championship game in sub-freezing temperatures. Coming from Selma, I know that’s not an easy thing to do! They fought through snow and injuries to win the game in double-overtime, and put an awesome end to their season.
I love seeing people of courage and perseverance, who will do the right thing. This team came together and played with their hearts, no matter what kind of support they had. They didn’t base any of their efforts on recognition or glory. They just wanted to win. I admire and respect them, and am glad they had a night to honor them!
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
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!
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!
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
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.
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.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
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.
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.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
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!
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!
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
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.
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.
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