| Sunny Side Up January 28, 2004 �2003, Kathleen Gibson A little bit of bloomin' escape The curtains open tomorrow on the local production of 'My Fair Lady'. If you live around my town, with a little bit of bloomin' luck' you've already heard the music-whistled, hummed or sung. The Preacher and I snuck into one of the rehearsals. We sat, enjoying the smooth harmonies, eyes glued to the actors' faces. Many of them belong to my 'half a year friends', as I've come to call them. We've done time together-stage time. In 1999, my daughter snagged the lead part in HMS Pinafore, the fledgling production of what evolved into Yorkton Community Theater. She begged me to audition for the chorus. Feeling a motherly need to hover anyway, I did so. The director's "You're in!" launched a mother-daughter journey neither of us will forget. She grew up and moved on. I didn't. I loved the stage, I discovered. Perhaps you saw me up there, flaring my nostrils (the better to sing to you, my dear), forcing my eyebrows up to my forehead (the better I look from a distance, my dear), and p-r-o-j-e-c-t-i-n-g my voice to the back wall (the better you'll hear me, my dear!). Oh dear. I've smiled till my face was stiff. Tucked my tummy in till it shoved out my backbone. Tripped over my skirts. Danced with a broom-(I had enough left feet for us both.) Night after night, I even allowed Dolly (as in Hello�) to lift my costume to my knee and horrified, offer to remove my 'varicose veins'. (Only once was her gasp genuine-in the traditional mischievous spirit of closing night, I'd taped on several strings of red licorice.) Once, rushing down the backstage hall to make an entrance, I caught my bustle on the spigot of a water cooler. The thing toppled. The bottle glug-glugged down the hall. I followed on my posterior, legs flung ceilingward. Skimmed across that lake at breakneck speed, then lurched onstage. Dripping and giggling. The quality of our productions have improved dramatically since. Recognizing my limitations of both time and talent, I bowed out. Retired to the prop shop and stage crew. Tried to help out in less obvious ways. I've seen those musicals from every angle but the orchestra. Loved every one. Travel plans prevented my helping this year, but the Preacher did time at the prop shop. He's even on stage this year-sort of. Lurking backstage, mostly. Shoving things around between scenes. Look closely-you'll probably catch him grinning. For a few hours, the thousands attending My Fair Lady will forget real-life woes. No doctor could write a better prescription for prairie winter doldrums than music, laughter, and a little onstage magic. You may notice something. There's another preacher, at least two clergy wives, and a flock of church members in My Fair Lady. And I'm so proud. Sheep or shepherd, God never intended Christians to huddle inside the walls of our church communities. The real work of the Church gets done 'out there'. You can respond to this column at [email protected] |
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