It Was Uncontrollable Crying

Once A Thespian,...

A long time ago, I matriculated in a Detroit high school that had a Performing Arts curriculum. I did not know that I loved performing onstage until I was performing.

I was able to hide the me that I am behind makeup and costumes. More on that in a later piece.

I longed to make a career on Broadway, not Hollywood. I saw myself as King Creon in the play Medea, in a New York theatre.

In real life, I was not an extrovert. However, after memorizing a script, I could sink into the role of an extrovert, introvert, or whatever. I was at home when the curtain opened.

I longed to make a career on Broadway, but the heads of the theatre curriculum assured me that I would only have roles of butlers, hoods, and foolish sidekicks, like Buckwheat, Stepin Fetchit, or Bill “Bojangles” Robinson, the hoofing partner to Shirley Temple (he called her Miss Shirley while she called him Bill).

I live in a cozy township that has a community theatre.

Recently, the theatre put on the musical performance of Once Upon a Mattress. I was in the ensemble cast of that play at my high school. I knew all the words in the songs. I was so excited to see it. One of the women in my Writer’s group was performing with her daughter in the play and announced the arrival of the play at one of our meetings.

I could not wait to attend. I expected to laugh and sing along with the cast.

I was in for a surprise.

As the main character, the Princess, sang her opening soliloquy, I began to, uncontrollably, cry.

I could not hold back the flood of tears streaming down my face. I kept coughing and wiping my face to hide my emotions from my wife and sister, who accompanied me to the performance.

My sister remembered the lyrics as well, because I sang all the songs in high school during the weeks of practice. I wanted to play the role of the Prince, Dauntless, or the king, but I was not allowed.

I could not hold back my tears. I had a huge lump in my throat.

Every two or three songs the lump rose, and the tears flowed. I could not help it. I was so emotional. I was taken back to the rehearsals and performances at my high school.

I wonder if it had to do with what could have been, had I not allowed those men to steal my dream of a thespian future.

I really loved the stage, the lights, and “the smell of the crowd and the roar of the greasepaint”.

I especially loved the sounds of laughter, or amazement, or the clapping of hands: music to my high school ears.

Once I became a pre-med student at my university, I continued to perform onstage.

Moreover, as a pediatric ear, nose, and throat surgeon, I “performed” with every little patient and/or parent.

How do you get a child to like you and their parent to trust you within the 20 seconds between walking through the exam door and the onset of questions?

You perform. You develop a schtick.

I missed the applause and hand clapping .

I will not reveal my techniques here, but any of my former patients’ parents will, immediately, recall what worked.

Could those memories be the source of my emotional catharsis?

Maybe.

I loved being back in the theatre, tears and all.

Is there community theater in my future?

Stay tuned.