That's "Celibate" not Celebrate.

Spoiler alert: I just came back from seeing the historical thriller, The Imagination Game. Instead of being moved by this man that invented the first computer during World War II, consequently cracking the enigma code and saving 14 million lives, I was sobbing because of the way this war hero had been treated in 1945 after he had obviously helped the allies win the war. At the end of the film, they flashed the information that this brilliant scientist had committed suicide; undoubtedly, it was implied, because in Britain at the time homosexuality was against the law and he had been convicted of gross indecency for it and sentenced to prison. However, he opted for chemical castration rather than imprisonment. While suffering this indignity, he could not think, could not focus on his cutting-edge computer science work and consequently died just a year into his sentence – at his own hand.

I guess I’m writing today to the 76+ countries in the world where homosexuality is still against their laws. I guess I’m also writing to the people I was standing behind on our way out of the movie that I overheard say “it was such a good movie, except why did they have to put in all that crap about him being gay?” I wondered why the postlude at the end of the movie didn’t make you cry too.

I obviously belong to a religion that struggles with these “modern sensibilities” (a phrase I have been using lately.) I was asked by one of my beloved children (a student) one day “Do you hate me because I’m gay? To which I responded “Do you hate me because I’m Mormon?” He helped me understand that he would always be gay, and I helped him understand that I would always be Mormon. We both decided we loved each other and maintain a priceless relationship to this day.

So here goes…

One of the hardest things about being single in the Mormon church is that we are asked to be celibate until we're married.  

That's right. Celibate. I said. Not Celebrate. Contrary to what some people think about us we celebrate everything. This is c.e.l.i.b.a.t.e. until we are married legally. 

Usually the word celibate is connected to Catholic priests and nuns and followed by "those poor men and women...what a sacrifice they make, their whole lives." And there is some kind of revered holiness surrounding that decision that we feel for them. Some kind of pedestal. Right?

Except when I think of Catholic nuns I think of the Nunsense series of musicals by Dan Goggin and I instantly crave donning my habit to "sing out Louise!" I've got the best memories of playing “Sister Robert Anne” about four or five times, I've forgotten. All those feather boas, the tap shoes, the Bingo games with the audience and the CTR ring prizes (Catholics Totally Rule). Obviously it was musical theatre for me and not a convent.

But from age 18 to age 41 it felt like it none the less. 

It was lonely. Some crying...no...a lot of crying. Usually at night and anytime the bed felt larger or colder than it was. I got into a habit of falling asleep in my Laz-y-boy in front of the T.V. at night to avoid the vacant bed. That way, if I staggered to the bed later I wouldn’t have time to think about how empty it was before I had collapsed into my coma. If I got into the bed too soon the loneliness would wrap its creepy, cold arms around me and shake me all night keeping me awake with questions...wondering what was going to happen to me if I didn't find someone to share my life with? Who was going to help me out in my old age? Should I put more money into my retirement so I could afford to hire someone to take care of me? Should I build a house with just one bedroom or three, why three, maybe just one big one…okay two, I should have hope at least. Should I have my eggs frozen now? (Just kidding, I never thought that. BECAUSE I WAS D.U.M.B. and should have thought that but I was an idiot. I SOOO wish I had thought about that then. I digress.) The dialogue I had with myself never stopped.

When you are single you don’t have anyone to talk to on a regular basis and as you ask yourself all these questions all the time, the REALLY big question started to haunt me: what will happen when I started talking back out loud to the voices in my head? Will someone commit me to a psychiatric hospital? Should I just do that now to prevent the inevitable and at the very least save my family from having to do it?

Here’s my really big idea.

God did not intend for us to be alone.

Okay. It’s not a really big idea, nor is it even new or innovative in any way.

In His wisdom He said “celibacy sucks.” It sure does. Why not make two puzzle pieces that fit perfectly together, give them the desire to seek out that union and from that union, we’ll surprise them with children. Surprise! Or in Andy’s and my case, just someone to talk to, go to movies with and prevent my being checked into a rubber room.

Let me say this before I go on, this is something I truly believe:

“It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest most uninteresting person you talk to may one day be a creature which, if you say it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare. All day long we are, in some degree helping each other to one or the other of these destinations. It is in the light of these overwhelming possibilities, it is with the awe and the circumspection proper to them, that we should conduct all of our dealings with one another, all friendships, all loves, all play, all politics. There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. nations, cultures, arts, civilizations - These are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit - immortal horrors or everlasting splendors.” 
― C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory

So many of my spiritual brothers and sisters are struggling to live in the Mormon church as single celibate Latter-day Saints. My single friends that are holding to the iron rod of the gospel come in several categories. (All of them, future Gods and Goddesses.) I speak from my life experiences only! The celibate singles in MY life are: women out of their twenties who have never married and are still actively (or not) seeking a partner, divorced women who have lost their loyal husbands to adultery in various forms and finally, gay men. You heard me. I haven’t had a single male friend that is straight, that hasn’t endured his celibacy for longer than a year or two after a difficult divorce. I’ve known female friends (and acquaintances) divorce their husbands because they themselves have left the church, or they’ve had affairs themselves but their ex-husbands have been married within one or two years after the divorce. The same is true for the men I’ve known that leave their wives or get thrown out of their houses…I see their wedding invitations in the mail less than a year later. Always. We got one today! I don’t renounce their opportunity to be in a loving relationship, but I gotta wonder… is celibacy really harder on men or are women just more cautious learners? ;-)

See, I can name two dozen female Facebook friends over 30, and a hundred more over 20, off the top of my head that are living celibate lives as they believe to be commanded by God to do so. The only celibate male friends I have are gay Mormons “fighting the fight” as we straight Mormons like to say. Heaven bless them. I pray for them every day because I remember how hard it was for me all those years and YET… I used to be SOOOO BUGGED that we always tended to have more empathy for them than we do for the single sisters in our church that are celibate as well and have been for decades and decades (ode to a beloved Mormon friend who has played Mother Superior to my Robert Anne many times and is ten years my senior and still not married. We’ve had this conversation many times). I just couldn’t figure out why we felt so badly for the gays and kept telling the single ladies “in due time…in due time.”

I used to say “I’m celibate too! I’ve been celibate for 40 years and I’m probably going to be celibate for 40 more and they’re not the only ones that have been asked to be lonely!!” Have you ever said that? Yeah, I used to say that and only that. It used to seem like that was the answer. Don’t stop reading the blog now…there is a moment of enlightenment coming up.

In my mind, the issue of whether or not the Mormon church would allow gay Latter-day Saints in its doors has never been an issue for me. Half the men that sang at my mission farewell were gay returned missionaries. I know a few openly gay men that still go to church, still paid their tithing, still prayed for the answers like we all do. Before my enlightenment, the issue was only about celibacy.

And patience.

Isn’t it always about patience and waiting for further light and knowledge from the Lord?

I have a few gay male friends that are living celibate lives. I have a few thousand female friends that are living celibate lives. I exaggerate…for effect…but not much. I now realize that their search for happiness is certainly different and that’s what all the hullaballoo is about. And that is my newest really big idea:

          My female friends search with hope which increases faith and my male friends just…w.a.i.t. for further light and knowledge. The single, female Latter-day Saint uses her hope to be sealed in the temple and have children one day. But the single, gay, latter-day saint must wait for…for Christ to come? The gay Latter-day Saint certainly doesn’t wait for his/her homosexual feelings to go away as some LDS people still think is possible. I’m pretty sure that that isn’t possible in this life. I’m not sure about the next one. (I’m waiting patiently and praying for further light and knowledge.) Searching and waiting…two very different things.

Can you see why there are tears of a different kind, patience to a different extent, sorrow on a different level, and the need for faith of a different magnitude? Can you see why the numbers of faithful single gay Saints in the church are so small?

Can you see why they need our love and support more than ever and not our shunning and banishment? They aren’t building faith on the same level as the rest of us. We are asking them to be a.l.o.n.e. for the rest of their lives in order to demonstrate their obedience. I laud them for their strength of heart and conviction.

Though I have been friends and have taught dozens of amazing men that struggle with their decision to come out, I still have no idea the depth of that loneliness.

As a faithful Latter-day Saint who lives and works in a world populated heavily with homosexual men, I have been asked to write this blog more than once. I have always said apathetically “it’s none of my business.” How could I do it without offending my beloved gay friends or broaching my own testimony of the living prophets who have said that homosexuality is a trial and a temptation that must be endured and not acted upon?  

What would Jesus do?

Because that’s what I should do.

In one of Thomas S. Monson’s April Conference talks entitled “Love - The Essence of the Gospel,” he says:

My beloved brothers and sisters, when our Savior ministered among men, He was asked by the inquiring lawyer, “Master, which is the great commandment in the law?” Matthew records that Jesus responded:

“Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind. This is the first and great commandment. And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.”

Mark concludes the account with the Savior’s statement: “There is none other commandment greater than these.”

We cannot truly love God if we do not love our fellow travelers on this mortal journey. Likewise, we cannot fully love our fellowmen if we do not love God, the Father of us all. The Apostle John tells us, “This commandment have we from him, That he who loveth God love his brother also.” We are all spirit children of our Heavenly Father and, as such, are brothers and sisters. As we keep this truth in mind, loving all of God’s children will become easier.

I would hope that we would strive always to be considerate and to be sensitive to the thoughts and feelings and circumstances of those around us. Let us not demean or belittle. Rather, let us be compassionate and encouraging. We must be careful that we do not destroy another person’s confidence through careless words or actions.

Forgiveness should go hand in hand with love. In our families, as well as with our friends, there can be hurt feelings and disagreements. Again, it doesn’t really matter how small the issue was. It cannot and should not be left to canker, to fester, and ultimately to destroy. Blame keeps wounds open. Only forgiveness heals." [end quote]

My brothers and sisters that feel isolated from the church you love…I’m sorry that is your experience and you have obviously been treated badly by bad people that call themselves Latter-day Saints. They are stupid. They act in a way not organically born of the gospel principles because they obviously don’t embrace the gospel principles. They aren’t listening to President Monson. I don’t know where they get their information. Case in point, my mother-in-law is from Australia and she converted when she was 19. She married an LDS boy and his very LDS mother told her that she (my husband's mom) would never have the opportunity to reach the highest degree of heaven because that was only reserved for those that grew up in Utah. WHAAAT?!?! I nearly died when I first heard that. In my naiveté, I guess I thought everyone in the church was on the same track. I hope someone is teaching her the truth right now, God rest her soul.

You see, when you hear the stories of families that are kicking their gay children out of the house, or stories of people that won’t take the sacrament from certain young priesthood holders…that stuff isn’t right. 

It's just not right.

But I hear and read Facebook posts all the time from bitter former members of the church that are absolutely vitriolic about the LDS Church’s stance on…whatever it is…homosexuality, women holding the Priesthood, etc… Both camps that are waving the flags of these issues must remember LOVE. Love is the very essence of Godliness.

Please know that we aren’t all like that. Please know that we don’t all live in that little bubble. Also know, from my point of view, you won’t convince the LDS church to change its policies with your badgering or your civil disobedience and negative posts on Facebook. The people reading your Facebook posts already love you. We just wonder why you would try to offend us, when we are trying so hard to love you? (I speak only to a few of you – just as there are a few ridiculous Latter-day Saints out there too.) I get really tired of the posts that begin “Mormon church..blah, blah, blah… hates the gays….hates women…blah, blah, blah…

Can’t we all just be like Jesus? And if you aren’t a Christian anymore, you can still be like Jesus. He was a good guy. Ethics exist even if they aren’t religiously based. Right? That’s what you always tell me.

So let’s review what Jesus would do…are you with me?!

1. Don’t judge.

We all have but one “judge in Israel.” If we open our hearts to someone different than ourselves, we will begin to feel the kind of Christ-like love the Savior has for us. He doesn’t choose who to love. We must strive to remember the mote in our own eyes.

We are in no position to say who has God-like potential and who doesn’t. We all do. By shutting off our superiority complex we can be a force for good. We do the opposite and all we’re doing is shattering the first and second great commandments.

2. Be sincerely understanding and connected to every child of God no matter their sexuality. Open your heart.

I’ve heard a few of us say “If I was that kid’s parent…” We don’t know what those parents have gone through. We all choose our battles. I watched a video on LDS.org called Tonya's Story. Let me tell you - I learned so much from Tonya! One thing stood out to me as a light in my darkness. She said "

I read an article on Facebook about a member of a congregation that would not take the sacrament from a teenage boy that professed to be gay. Wow. If I was that boy, I would run so far and so fast. The fact that he is in church at all should be what we are celebrating.

3. Be patient. Time will tell.

The longer we are patient the more our understanding will increase. Take a deep breath and leave this hard stuff to God. Quit worrying about it out loud (I’m talking to you, lady at the theatre) and use your energy to serve, love and learn. I’ve no doubt that one day the windows of heaven will open and we will all know the great and glorious plan of God in its entirety.

4. Stopping trying to change to each other.
I have heard all of the following things more than once:

a. “I’ll bet if they married a woman (or man if they are a Lesbian), they would eventually learn to love her/him.” And eventually destroy their spouses life. Yep. I’ve seen that scenario so many times that it hurts.

b. “Isn’t there some kind of therapy that will take the gay away?” No. I’m betting the Church and all those countries in which homosexuality is still illegal, has tried every degrading, inhumane therapy there is to “solve” the problem. I, personally, don't think it can be solved - nor needs to be. 

c. “They don’t know what they’re missing!” GAH! They would probably say the same thing to us.

d. “If they pray hard and long enough, their temptations will go away.” See #B above. Sexuality itself isn’t a temptation. It’s part of your hormonal makeup. What I have learned from my students and friends is that they didn’t learn it or contract it. It was always there. Case in point – I once had a student that was cast as a leading man in a musical I was directing. He was distraught and pulled me into my office to ask me if I could re-block the stage kiss somehow. He was having such anxiety about kissing a woman. He asked me simply, “what if I asked you to kiss a woman on stage?” I couldn’t deny I would be fraught with anxiety as well. But his plight made it real for me. I answered him with a question in return “why did you audition if you knew what was ahead?” He said he hoped he could talk me out of it when it was too late to re-cast it. Stupid kid. We both learned a lot that day. Gosh, I love him and I learned so much from him that day. I'm so grateful.

5. Love anyway. We all know better!

1 John 4: 18 – 21; The Holy Bible

18 There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear: because fear hath torment. He that feareth is not made perfect in love.

19 We love him, because he first loved us.

20 If a man say, I love God, and hateth his brother, he is a liar: for he that loveth not his brother whom he hath seen, how can he love God whom he hath not seen?

21 And this commandment have we from him, That he who loveth God love his brother also.

But I am willing to bet my life that Heavenly Father will soon bring us a multitude of answers and exquisite blessings as a reward for our patience.

I survived my celibacy because I knew my relationship with God was more important. I knew I had made promises to Him and I wanted to honor those covenants. Could I do that my whole life? Let’s pretend I didn’t marry the world’s greatest man. I’m sure I could. I have many examples to follow and I’m very competitive with myself. I would want to meet that challenge considering the things I have been promised that lie ahead of me if I can endure to the end. I love a big trophy, after all. 

Addendum...

For those sweet sisters out there that also have same-sex attraction...I have read your comments and I understand you are wondering why I haven't addressed you specifically. I apologize...my blog is about my life and experiences in the church and that's it. Its a very small perspective, and I'm no expert. Ever. I write about what I know. Because of the nature of my life and my job, I have had an overwhelming opportunity to get to know and love the male gay community. I can assume that your trials are equally difficult. I'm sorry and I pray every day that we as a nation and a religion will honor your challenge with love and understanding. 

Ladies in Waiting: World-Wide Pants

Note: I am still uploading blogs that were written a long time ago and put on hold. SO you will notice that the topic is out of date to say the least. But anyway...I often get asked to use my blog as a public forum for politically charged Mormon topics and usually I refrain because my answer is always the same "love each other." But this one seemed to hit me in my "sore spot" and I couldn't resist. This is not going to be anything you haven't heard at this point. Nothing new to add. I don't deny anyone the right to exhibit their dissatisfaction with the Mormons, least of all the Mormons themselves. I have a half finished blog about the Ordain Women Movement, but the vapor coming off of it is still too green and stinky things should sit a while before being touched. Stay tuned for that.

Recently a group of Mormon feminists unleashed an idea on Facebook and other social media that was an effort to bring attention to the gender inequities in the church. I read somewhere - "to build power by exhibiting a small external sign to the leadership in the church that we are tired of the inequities."

They wanted us to all wear pants to church.

I was asked by [a reader] if I would express my support via this blog. I swallowed hard. Then I thought about it. No need to overreact if I didn't need to.

Right out of the chute I wanted to take over their cause (That's the marketing director in me...because I thought it could use a little re-direction... hehehe...why is that always my first instinct? And why does it seem like these groups are always so much younger than me?) Did they have a mission statement? Who was at the helm? Pants? Really, just pants? It sounded like some out of control book club idea. By the time I was asked to participate it sounded nuts. It had lost its clarity. Did the greatest path to gaining perceived equality involve a passive aggressive movement? "...A small external sign..." Yeah, right. That was surely inviting ridicule... 

And it did. And death threats. (REALLY, MORMONS?)

I admit...I didn't do my research before I balked. I posted a snarky comment on my Facebook page. Shame on me. I would never deny anyone the opportunity to use a little "protest" as a way to bring attention to something. But...p.a.n.t.s? It felt a little like burning your bras in church, but not as dramatic and fun to watch. Can't I just go to my leadership and express my concern? I could throw my support behind something like a worldwide "...listen, bishop..."

But they felt..."oppressed" she said to me, "...this is our way of bringing attention to the inequalities that lie within the budgets of the church. We are begging for transparency..."  etc....

I have always felt like a "liberated" woman. When I was a kid the news was full of "women's liberation." I thought it wasn't my issue because my mom was such a strong woman. She could do anything. I felt sorry for them because I thought that's what it was - women who felt weak and imprisoned so they needed to be liberated. I thought they were all in jail and they needed someone to let them all out, but that's a problem for the inventors of the movement. A marketing issue if you will. Again...choose a better catch phrase, though I must say it did put the whole era right up there in the history of the world with the Continental Congress and Michael Jackson (before he went nuts.) I am infinitely grateful to the work of those women from Elizabeth Cady Stanton on because I have been an independent working woman since I was 16...and who's kidding who...just because I'm married now does not make me less independent. My handcart seems ultimately heavier now than it ever did when I was single. Right?

I asked my mother WHY they burned their bras and she said "because they're dumb...bras are expensive." That was about the extent of our conversations on women's lib. I wasn't really wearing a bra yet so it befuddled me a little. However, when Jean Partridge, my English teacher for a bunch of years, talked about symbolism I finally got it. Symbols were heavy things. They had intrinsic value. Families carried their crests around on flags heavy with the symbols that gave them value and in turn power.

If the bra is the symbol of a woman, it's because breasts, though not always equal, have always been the great equalizer. Consider the women of the Renaissance. No political power at all, but why do you think they wore those whale boned corsets? It wasn't because they were comfortable. It was a reminder to their men: Don't forget that I have what you want. Woman have always used them as a good source of power. (I know I do. ;-O) 

There are so many tangible things that I have turned into symbols that I put value in...

1. The Written Language/Books. I can't throw books away and I can't put them on the floor or touch them with my feet. I picked that last part up from the Thais. The mere act of putting something as ethereal as thought on paper, permanently for all to know, makes every book ever written sacred to me somehow.

I own a lot of books. Though it isn't the symbol of knowledge to me because I rarely feel smarter having read a book, most times it opens the door inside of me entitled "See How Much You Don't Know - COME IN." I feel joy at having read someone else's thoughts. It's the purest kind of creativity and it doesn't require money, status or much education. Though education does elevate the thought process and I love that too...some of my greatest relaxation has come from reading cheap teenage fiction. I'm grateful to find something that takes my mind to another place sometimes. And if I remember right, men and women both have a brain. That's God's way of equalizing us.

2. My old car has intrinsic value and great symbolism. Andy and I dubbed it "Norah" because we used to listen to Norah Jones CD's and make out in it before we got married. I bought it right after I had a terrible engagement break-up as a kind of reward for getting through that. I paid for the whole thing myself when I was single and it will forever symbolize overcoming weakness, hard work and success to me. I bought it in 1997 and I still drive it every day. It has been a good friend. It drives me to work, waits all day to take me home and has for 17+ years. Men and women can both drive whatever car they want.

3. The cross. I feel the weight of this symbol through the tree that gave it's life to have that awful responsibility through no fault of its own. I'm that girl that loved Bob Ross and the "happy little trees and flowers." So I have a weird sorrow for the tree, and a kind of reverence for it's sacrifice. And I know it would disdain the result of it's fame as a mechanism for death. Though human thought, manifesting its ugly power was the real cause of the death, that tree stood tall and accepted its fate. If the Mormons saw it my way, I'd probably have a drawer full of crosses.

4. Bridges. I love them. For me, they symbolize people coming to together and two sides of something agreeing to work together. I also love that they usually cover deep revenues of water or canyons, another great symbol of man conquering an obstacle by using creative thought.

4.   Dresses. It was not until I was in second grade that Alpine School District lifted the policy on girls having to wear dresses to school. I've told you about the incident where I was high riding the "Witches Hat" on the playground and some boy reached up and pulled my underwear to my knees. It was right about then that Women's Liberation was in full bloom, though the mini-skirt was all the rage at the time which is strangely ironic to me. It's probably safer for girls to wear pants to school however, pants can come off just as easily at school as a dress I suppose. ;-) (Remembering the reason we no longer watch Glee.)

Now, we aren't required to wear dresses to church. It's just what we do, here in America...D.R.E.S.S. up. It's a symbol of respect. So whatever your culture deems "Sunday best" works for me. In my culture, it's a dress for women and a tie for men, for whatever reason and on varying levels of "formal." It has certainly evolved. We aren't Downton Abbey that's for sure. Most Americans wear dresses to formal occasions like weddings, funerals, graduations...Vanna White wears dresses to change the letters on Wheel of Fortune and no celebrity would walk the Red Carpet without some kind of couture gown. You know, in the 18 or so PROMS I've been to in my life, I've very rarely seen a pair of pants. 

Would we do less for the Godhead?

So every Sunday morning I dig through my humble collection of gray and brown tweed just-above- the-ankle-length (because I have bad veins - not because I'm some kind of fundamentalist) skirts and a white shirt and hey! it's cool enough to add a cardigan! (and I have about 27) and go to my worship services. It's not Christian Dior, but it's Christian Du' Jour and it humbles me enough to sit in front of the sacred sacrament table and beg for forgiveness of my sins, which are abundant. My level of dress, directly affects my level of humility. My humility, directly affecting my level of preparation to receive the spirit.

Still, there is no church policy on what we wear to church. I've seen some crazy things worn to church but usually it involves prom dresses and wilting corsages. I just LOVE it when the prom dress is strapless and the old ladies in the ward are whispering about why the bishop allowed his daughter to wear her strapless prom dress to church! (Truly, I'm just impressed that they are IN CHURCH the day after prom. Way to go!!! The bishop is probably just as glad!) Last week I saw a sweet old man in Sunday School wearing a brown suit coat and navy pants and I thought "Ahhh...his wife died and I'll bet he's color blind." We don't ridicule...we should NEVER ridicule or judge anyone for what they wear to church. I have been in sacrament meetings around the world, in the humblest conditions, where few members of the congregation were even wearing shoes (or bras for that matter) and I have felt the spirit stronger there than anywhere on earth. 

So what? Let me re-focus...

What did this young group of women want again... "to build power by exhibiting a small external sign to the leadership in the church that we are tired of the inequities." But it didn't turn out small did it? There were a few women in our hipster Salt Lake ward that wore pants that day. They huddled together. They laughed a little too loudly...I heard one woman say, "This is what I wear to work!" I was not friends with that group, they are much younger than I am and well, I work too much to have any real friends unless you are in a play with me. Why was I SOOOOO bugged at them? I did not want to be a hypocrite, a judger. Let them wear what they want. I just want my one day off a week to be peaceful...THAT'S IT!!! 

I was just irritated that this group willfully chose a world-wide distraction on the day when the real reason I go to church is to focus on worship and reaffirming my covenants with my D.I.E.T.Y. If I had a problem with inequity I would approach it on a Tuesday, over the fence, with cookies and a jug of chocolate milk:

"Hey, bishop..."

But then again, I have never felt oppressed because I was born a Mormon woman. Does that mean it doesn't exist? Heavens no. I've always hated that argument as well: just because I don't feel oppressed doesn't mean oppression doesn't exist....but in my Mormon neighborhoods I have only seen Mormon women raised on pedestals and families fighting the world to stay together and love each other. Oppression is always wrong. If you feel that you are being oppressed because you "have to" stay home and raise your kids, and it makes you feel subordinate to your husband, I'll trade you. This is my blog and this is my issue - I would LOVE to be at home raising kids - I would KILL to get up and make pancakes for my bunch of kids every morning. KILL. But that's not my lot in life. The grass is always greener, isn't it?

I digress. 

"Men (and women) are that they might have joy." When I feel true joy I am max-ing out the measure of my creation. I feel that it is God's way of liberating me from within. 

Everything else takes care of itself when you are truly liberated from within. Remember, this is coming from someone who has worked full-time since she was 16, didn't marry until she was 40+ and had eight miscarriages. I am just now coming to terms with the fact that the measure of my creation is different from my sisters. Just now. I'm right in the middle of it.

I am a child of GOD. He is my power from within. He liberates me. 

I assert that it is not a change in our outside appearance that gives us strength. It is a power from within. I see it in all my sisters, this way of thinking: that personal sacrifice isn't sacrifice at all but and investment in yourself and others. It is fulfilling the measure of your creation in every way possible...from within. Lots of things come from within. Knowledge, creativity, babies are created within. The priesthood is a power from within. All power we are given and that is expressed from within, is used at its best when used for the good of the world, for the good of the family. 

Does this mean that you should sacrifice all that you are for those around you? 

What will we have left to give? We have to also take care of ourselves. Oxygen mask on ourselves first!

I assert that this is where all of these feelings of oppression come from. 

FROM OURSELVES.

We Mormon women are such martyrs. We are. We guilt ourselves into saying yes to everything and serve everyone and spend every ounce of ourselves on everyone else because we believe that this will build us into the superwoman that we are to become. We see that we are not as good as the women down the block that are taking meals to people every other day, bottling their homegrown vegetables, reading "Jesus the Christ" in Hebrew and weaving the cloth for their children's school clothes and this drives us. It drives us alright...it drives us crazy.

Know what? WE ARE ALREADY SUPERWOMEN! And those women don't exist. 

If they do - tell them I have some bathrooms that need cleaning. 

I can't speak for them, but I can only speak for myself. Sometimes, I go to the movies with my husband when I should be doing laundry. Andy does more dishes than I do. He's also great at vacuuming. When we clean our house we each take a floor of the house and meet back at our chairs an hour later and fall asleep in them with one dog in each lap. When we first got married I used to have terrible guilt about making my husband clean "my house." 

But...

I got over it. 

Here's a favorite quote from another liberated woman:

“Many Mormon women do not have clear boundaries for themselves. They feel a sense of confusion about who they are, because many competing voices lay claim to them and they try to accommodate them all. For example, when I became a member of the Relief Society general presidency, I was appalled at how many women were tormented by guilt about their responsibilities as mothers. They seemed unable to see a boundary between themselves and their children. . . .

It is a strength for women to be able to cross their own boundaries easily when they are meeting the needs of their children and serving others, but it is a great disadvantage when they feel every call for service as an imperative which they are obligated to meet. Remember, a boundary has “yes” on one side and “no” on the other. A woman who never feels that she can say “no” is lacking an important element of personal identity and, hence, personal safety.”

Chieko Okazaki, (Former member of the Relief Society First Presidency) from her book "Boundaries"

So today I have to say "NO." I won't wear pants to church. Sorry. To my beloved reader that asked me to join the "Pants Cause," I love you but I just can't. I would be glad to talk to your group about what is really bothering you and re-marketing/directing your cause though. I'm old and I've seen so much happen for good!

Be patient. Things take time. Pray. It will all happen in its due time. Women are God's favorite after all!

For the Love!

This is for Johnny and Nicole. I hope it lightens the week a little.

 “I guess I got an entertaining bug, from my grandfather, Hyme Progaut, who was very very big in the Yiddish theater back in New York. He was in the, the sardonically ireverant, 'Dibik Shmibik, I Said more Ham'. And that review, I believe was nineteen thriteen and that review, is what made him famous. Incidentally, the song, 'Bubby Made a Kishka' came from that review.” Waiting for Guffman

“This bulging river this God and Devil in one. There aint a THING can be done. The River's in our blood. This deep and bulging river's in our bloood. Corky- BLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD.” WFG


So there he was....dead. The King was floating away safely in a boat, but his daughter was groaning over the dead servant boy's body, sobbing with grief. He had sacrificed himself for their people...merely because she had turned to say goodbye to the man she loved.

The servant boy lead her to a secret boat containing her escaped father, the King. But her lover, a warrior captain, discovered them before she could get into the boat and float away to safety. So she turned and raced toward her lover to say one last goodbye and THAT was their undoing.

She had to say goodbye. She couldn't just get in the dang boat. She couldn't yell "I love you, but I have to save my nation!" from the water? She had to feel his embrace. She had to get one last kiss.

Then the King yelled out "daughter!" and the captain was confused. She was a Princess? Had she lied to him? Was it all a lie? No! She had to explain it all to him, but it was too late...HIS evil father was now on the scene commanding him to kill the errant King. But it became very clear to the captain now...She was a princess and she was trying to save her people and he LOVED HER. He KNEW her (and when I say "knew..." you know what I mean, right?) So... much to the dismay of his own father, he thwacked at the rope holding the boat to the shore and the King floated away.

Angered by this, the captain's father attempted to kill the princess but the servant boy flung himself in the sword's path and now...he's dead. And it's all her fault.

And there beneath the full July moon, Princess Aida cries over her friend as Radames realizes that his love is no longer a secret and it will mean his treasonous death.

Surely they will all die. And yep.

They do.

In a stone box below the sands of Egypt...errr....American Fork, Utah. But I'm ahead of myself. And I start to cry. Because I already know the ending but I always wish I could change it.

And I can't stop crying! I have directed in this theatre before. A couple of times. And it's not Egypt. And I have been bitten by about a hundred ants during the course of the show because it's a stone amphitheater cut out of the side of a hill and needs to be sprayed. But I am still bawling. And my back is killing me because there is no back rest - just a stone seat. Still...yes...bawling. And it's July. Sweltering heat. Bawling. And I know half the cast, in fact I taught a few of them when they were in junior high, which, I think made me bawl even harder. Night after night, I've listened to the director of the show (I know him because it's my husband Andy) tell me how difficult it has been to put the show together (all community theatre is!) and still it's an absolutely beautiful show, what was he worried about? Bawling.


“HOW HIGH A RIDGE I COULD NOT TELL, FOR THE SUN HAD SET AND DARKNESS FELL BEFORE I REACHED ITS PINNA-CUL.” WFG


Then the scene comes to a close and the servant boy is lying on the stage, dead, the lights go out. He lets a decent moment go by, and then he pops up and exits the stage and there is a little laugh from the audience because he's alive! Too bad about that gorgeous full moon "blue out." And I start crying again. If I was indoors that effect would take me hours to put together but in this amphitheater the sitting moon lends it's hand without another thought as if it’s just another audience member swinging in to see the show. "You're welcome" it says. Still, wish you could put a dimmer on it just for a second for the dead servants exeunt.

But we quickly forget about the undead servant when Aida and Radames are banished to the tomb together...and I am crying again. A big plywood tomb. Not sandstone at all. And it's on wheels. Two amateur actors. One of them graduated from BYU that very day, in business, I think. Both of them are married to other people. Amazing singing voices. But the commitment to the roles... I think that's what has me crying.

And is occurs to me that we are at the end of a year full of theatre that has filled our lives once again with people like us that love theatre and do theatre for the love of it. We are back in the arms of what we love. Community theatre. We are back where we began.

Literally.


“My first show was Barefoot in the Park, which was an absolute smash, but my production on the stage of Backdraft was what really got them excited. This whole idea of 'In Your Face' theatre really affected them. The conceptualization, the whole abstraction, the obtuseness of this production to me was what was interesting. I wanted the audience to feel the heat from the fire, the fear, because people don't like fire, poked, poked in their noses, you know when you get a cinder from a barbeque right on the end of your nose and you kind of make that face, you know, that's not a good thing, and I wanted them to have the sense memory of that. So during the show I had someone burn newspapers and send it through the vents in the theatre. And well, they freaked out, and 'course the fire Marshall came over and they shut us down for a couple of days.” Corky St. Clair, Waiting for Guffman


The day we decided to send out wedding announcements we knew just where to begin. My mom had taken all my "show shirts" - you know, the souvenir t-shirt you get with the cast list printed on the back - and cut them up. She sewed the squares together and made a quilt out of them. We called it the "Show Quilt" and it is precious indeed. We laid it out on the living room floor and started making a list of all the people we wanted to send an announcement to. Because those are the people you gather into your heart. Old roommates, old neighbors, old ward members...sure...but how much time do you spend with a show cast in comparison?! THOSE are the people that would want to know that you are getting married. Those people share an experience with you that cannot be replicated. This quilt represented all the time you came together after a long day at work to bind yourself to a group of people that may have never put on a pair of tap shoes in their life...and you see them sweating bullets over Stephen Schwartz’s Russian Klezmer harmonies in the bathrooms, backstage wrestling with Sondheim in the halls, panicking that I have just asked them to wear nothing but a towel in the shower scene of Damn Yankees...that hard swallow, followed by "Suuuure...my wife is going to have a heart attack." OH HOW I LOVE THOSE PEOPLE!!!


“I got off that boat with nothing but my dancers belt and a tube of CHAPSTICK!” WFG


And at this point as the cast of Aida has brought back a flood of precious memories, I pull out a notepad from my purse and start writing this blog through my tears. I forget about the ants and it just spills out onto the tiny notepad - all my love for every person that I have ever been in a show with or directed that never got paid to do a show, but just came out to do it FOR THE LOVE. You know who I'm talking about. And you know why you do it.

And you are why I do it. And you are why I was crying my eyes out that night in July.

I was an emotional wreck anyway because I was "sluffing" my own show (Thoroughly Modern Millie) that night to see Andy's show. But I had my Stage Manager on speed dial and we had already been sending texts back and forth all night.


Jan: How's it going?

Jamie: Taylor broke her leg today. Stop texting me. (Taylor was the girl that played Millie)

Jan: I'm not used to missing a show.

Jamie: You are useless now. Enjoy Aida. We got this.

Jan: I know, but...

Jamie: Stop texting me. I need to go do your show and you shouldn't have your phone on anyway. Geeeeeeez.

Jan: Yes ma'am.


“I was shopping for my wife Bonnie. I buy most of her clothes and Mrs Pearl was in the same shop! And it just was an accident you know, we started talking... about panty hose, she was saying... whatever that's not the point of the story but what the point is is that through this accidental meeting... it's like a Hitchcock movie you know where you're thrown into a rubber bag and put in the trunk of a car, you find people. You find them. Something, is is it karma? Maybe. But we found him, that's the important thing. And I got Bonnie a wonderful pantsuit.” WFG


The first show we got to do when we moved home was You Can’t Take it With You which Andy directed and I got to play my favorite role in the world – Penny Sycamore. I admit that I am completely type cast in this role, but I don’t care. I love her wackiness. The older I get, the more I see myself in her. And I loved this cast because it was all our “old” friends from Lehi High and Lehi Arts past and present. Jean and Jerry Hatch have kept the Lehi Arts Council going strong after all these years. And Chad… it’s so good to be home around Chad again…what an incredible group of people we worked with. It was like a comfort friend buffet every night.


“Now everybody knew that Corky could direct, but who knew that he could act and sing and DANCE, and there's only one other person in the world who can do that and that's Barbara Streisand.” WFG


You Can't Take It With You the play that wraps its arms around you every single time...all five times I’ve had the privilege of opening its pages...and that's why we keep going back to it. The very theme of the show typifies those of us that spend our free time doing theatre…..What will we take with us into the next life? All the money we’ve made doing community theatre? HAHAHAHA! No! Might as well audition for a community theatre piece, make new friends, love on old friends and have the time of your life. Memories, people! It’s all about making memories. You can’t take it with you!


“If there's an empty space, just fill it with a line, that's what I like to do. Even if it's from another show.” WFG


I'm certain that the opportunity to do Thoroughly Modern Millie at the Sandy Amphitheater this summer (2013) was a gift from my Heavenly Father for the eight years I went without directing community theatre. What a relief that the cast we found was brilliant and talented and passionate and ready to RUMBLE...in tap shoes.

Everyone in Millie was a brand new friend, with two exceptions. I got to reconnect with our dear friend Kate who absolutely put the shine on the show with her magnificent chocolaty voice. Why isn't she on Broadway? And the lighting designer was my former high school student and lighting virtuoso Cole Adams (remember that early blog I wrote about Scmecky and Schmole? He's Schmole.) He also, should be on Broadway. Everyone knows it. Right?

Here's the thing...at casting, I was the NEWBIE. I didn’t know anybody except Kate. I would be casting blind, which is always scary. However, this was not my first rodeo and I set about to find passionate players that would come to the bar. And the bar was pretty high. There are four or five monster tap numbers in Millie, non-stop choreography, 16 set changes which usually means 16 costume changes, wigs…this isn’t your mamma’s South Pacific Jr. Still, we had more than a hundred people show up for auditions and I was flanked by choreographer Marilyn Montgomery and music director Eric Richards who were geniuses and knew everyone and could teach anybody anything (which, to my glee, I would learn later.)

The auditioners were all pretty great, but they were moms, and students, granddads and business men, a few community theatre Ron and Sheila’s with headshots that were taken in their backyard, etc… Some of them had taken drama classes in high school and a couple of them were actually theatre students on the university level, but most of them were there for the love and all of them were extremely talented. This was good.

We had an opportunity to cast some real veterans of the Hale Center stages but we would have had to work a miracle around their schedules because they were already in a show there. Still, when I listened to them sing and read their endless resumes I thought long and hard about making it work. They were real shiny types if you know what I mean. Their headshots were done in a studio and they had been asked to come and audition. They didn’t just show up for the love. It wasn’t sitting well with me and I know it’s because deep in the pit of my stomach, I pursue directing contracts on the community level for the teaching opportunity as much as anything else. (Heaven knows it isn’t for the money!) Would they be directable, could I get what I wanted from them? I’m so judging them right now and I have no reason to…except the air that followed them into the room and the non-verbal communication that was flying around the room from everyone else…screaming out “The Hale Center has just arrived, make way!!!” Hmmm…I would have to make a lot of way to use them – one of them was even an Equity actor that told us he was willing to lie to Equity to be in the show. Too bad I’m married to an Equity actor and know how completely unethical it is to put a theatre company like Sandy Arts in that kind of trouble. (And besides that, if you’re an Equity actor why are you even available for my little community show? Gah! I hope Equity catches that guy…)

I digress.

I made an executive decision, that if the community had come out to audition, the community would be cast. And I thanked the shiny-types for their presence, said a prayer over our rag tag but passionate crew of theatre lovers and posted the list. (I also bought tickets to the Hale show and it was fabulous!) But you know what?!

I was right.

I would put any one of my backyard headshots up against a studio hooty tooty any day. They were brilliant. They were zealous and grounded and available and they sang and danced until that show “shined like the top of the Chrysler Building.”


“I's a hankering as a young feller to be an actor but I went inta taxidermy instead.” WFG


The role of Millie was played by a sweet mom that used the role as motivation to lose 50 pounds before the audition! I had no idea! What an amazing example she was to me. I’ve never seen anyone work so hard. She listened to me like it was her last day on earth. I loved her for that! But then she turned around and made bold awesome choices and lead the way. She was stunning to watch on stage. They all were. I cried every night and Millie is not a tear jerker. I just cried because I knew how hard they had worked and how much they listened to me and ran with it. BIG. On closing night they gave me a reel-to-reel version of TMM (Julie Andrews!), which is what I had grown up watching when I was a kid! How did they find that?! I just don’t know how to thank them for reminding me how much I love this stuff. This little blog will have to do. For the record, I would work for any of them again, anytime.

On top of having a brilliant cast, Sandy City also offers a support staff that is a shining example all community theatres everywhere. They are organized and ready to give you the world as a director. Of course, Cole came in at the end and lit it up until it was beyond the vision of what I had in my head.


“Of course Broadway is great and...there'll be other offers, keepin' our fingers crossed, but, and I think you know what I'm thinkin', the ultimate dream, Hollywood...Ever since I was a kid doin' my impressions..'Here's lookin' at you BABE' and 'yyyou don' cccare about aanybody but yyyerself'...who's that, who am I doin'...” WFG


I should take one more paragraph to pay tribute here to another community theatre that I owe my very life to. The Scera Theatre in Orem let me direct two of my all-time favorite experiences. First, Children of Eden, which is the mother of all my memories for some reason. It combined the warm summer nights with what I believe to be the greatest cast of all time and the greatest story of all time. Cole lit it, Becky stage managed it, Robert Bowden cracked the whip over the music direction and it brought me the dearest friends…all willing to wear sand colored overalls and be trees and animals on command.


“I'm walking on air... you know... this is a sensation which is... forget it. When I became a dentist, I thought I was happy, but THIS...” WFG


I must pay tribute to the show that brought me my eternal companion. Damn Yankees – also at the Scera. Andy and I were just “hanging out” every night that summer because I had cast him as Applegate (the devil). One night Chad, our BFF, leaked that Andy might have deeper feelings for me and I better be ready to deal with that if came up…”Just a warning…” he peeped out, “I know how you feel about younger men, don’t shoot the messenger.” The hair on the back of my neck stood straight up. “Poor Andy,” I thought. I will never date a younger man again as long as I live.” But D’OH! He was an incredible Applegate! And I am a sucker for talented men on stage. Neither of us broached the topic for another year. But I sure thought about it. Every single day. Thanks Scera. Thanks Chad (who I met in Titanic – also at the Scera, BTW). See what I mean?!?!? I owe everything to community theatre!

Incidentally, some of you do to! Because I’ve never, NEVER, NEVER done a community theatre show without it introducing at least two young couples to each other who ended up getting married after the show! You’re welcome Johnny and Nicole, Stewart and Sarah, Jacob and Ashley…and I could go on and on and on...there is a list exactly as long as I have on my resume. (Okay, I’m not counting Nunsense or Steel Mags).

If that’s not reason enough to do a show… I don’t know what is! Those odds beat Match.com any day! Get out there and volunteer!!

So how to end my love note to community theatre peeps that have crossed my path? I owe community theatre my life. I can never repay it for what it has given me because it gets ahead. I am indebted for the blessings and so grateful for this particular gift I’ve been given because it gives back 100 fold. If your community doesn’t have a theatre, there’s no time like the present to start one up.


“So what I'm understanding here, correct me if I'm wrong, is that you're not givin' me any money, so now I'm left basically with nothing, I'm left with zero, in which, what can I DO with zero, you know, what can I--I can't do anything with it!..this is my life here we're talkin' about, we're not just talkin' about, you know, something else, we're talkin' about my life, you know!” WFG

So raise your plastic prop glasses to the community theatres that are still making it work despite the world’s insistence that money makes the world go around – I completely disagree – we’ve done some great theatre on a dime, some borrowed lights and a trunk full of love.


“You have to go where the love is.” WFG

WHEN...it's about time.

Well -
Back in the day, I was watching the Tony Awards (shocker!) and that particular year Susan Stroman won two Tony's: one for Best Director and one for Best Choreographer. I was really jealous that one tiny person could have that much talent. And she was a woman to boot! Woot!

In her acceptance speech(es), both of them, she thanked a lot of people, but she didn't thank anyone in her family, a spouse, or parents for example. I have my Tony Award acceptance speech already written out and it includes (in this order):

• God (from whence all blessing flow)
• Parents (who never thought it was strange that in my childhood I took the bed sheets off my bed to make costumes out of them for my front porch version of Snow White and the Three Dwarves, and still PAID to see the show every time.)
• Andy (my muse)
• My high school drama teacher, otherwise known as "my dealer." (because that would be hypocritical if I didn't mention that he put up with my shenanigans while I was certifiably insane. And let me say, I'm not sure I was insane, but I do KNOW that after decades of doing the same thing he did, all the brilliant ones are definitely insane...so...)
• Everybody who worked on the play
• My agent

Anyway - Susan Stroman thanked all the BIG people. Both times. I wondered why she didn't at least throw a bone to her parents. Most people have parents. Or to her mom at least. AND THEN IT HIT ME.

Maybe she and her mother don't like each other...

...maybe she and her mother don't speak...

...maybe she hasn't spoken to her mother for years..

...and years...

....and she grew up on a potato farm in Idaho...so she's embarrassed about her past and all the rotten things she said to her mom as a teenager....the things that drove them apart...

...on the spud farm...

...And now she has become a BIG TIME director, with a Tony Award or two and her mom is still in Idaho, directing little plays at the local high school....

...because she loves kids...she just didn't know how to love her daughter because they were so much alike...

...and now she has Alzheimer's disease and needs her daughter to go home and take care of her while she's dying...even though...she won't even remember her who her daughter is anymore...

...and that's both the tragedy and the blessing...she won't remember WHY they hated each other, but she won't remember who she is either....

...because she waited too long to go home and make it right....

G.O. H.O.M.E. .S.U.S.A.N!!!  G.O. H.O.M.E!!! Tell your mother you love her while it counts!!

And that, my dear friends is how a play idea comes to be. At least for me. You can see that my imagination is still on overload and has been since age 9 when I started taking the sheets off my bed.

THUS - after I got my graduate degree and had written a pretty successful play called "Breathless," I thought I was unstoppable. And then, thanks to Susan, I had this idea floating around my head that wouldn't go away. So I ran with it. I was single after all, so was Susan, and I was a director, so was she and I knew something about the collision of those two comets and how...after a while...you don't have any people in your life at all because you live at the theatre. I felt AT ONE with Susan. I could make up her life story. Sure.

So I did. But it's nothing to do with her. Just a freaky little linear cause and effect idea that I came up with on my sofa, by myself...back in the days before blogging.

Well - we produced the play I wrote in 2011(10?) with a cast from Tuacahn High School - here's the proof:

Oh my beloved cast! At their curtain call, closing night, they all wore purple ribbons for Alzheimer's awareness! Can you believe that!!!! I cried until I had a good headache - worth it! Those kids also raised about $2000 for Alzheimer's and that's pretty hard to do when you are also in rehearsal all the time. Those kids know WHY we do theatre for real. The experience always changes us for the better, and in it's purest form, it helps others too.

Last year SUU approached me to produce WHEN...and they did...but I couldn't see it because I was also doing a show at the same time (another shocker!) I hear they did a fine job but only did an hour of it. That's too bad.

Anyway...it's time now to unleash it's power on other unsuspecting high school groups, or just groups in general....drum roll please...

I have posted it to my TeachersPayTeacher site! This is a site where teachers post their work so other teachers can go in and buy stuff they need and don't want to create themselves! (Thanks Natalie Kay for telling me about it!)

For a while I only had one thing posted - a lovely, rare Shakespeare monologue I cut for a competition. I fully intend of posting the rest of my Shakespeare cuttings, including a 90-minute Midsummer and a 75- minute Taming - so look out for those. I get asked to cut pieces, find pieces, all the time for people and hopefully all that time spent, all those hours and hours of work might pay off.

I digress...

But truthfully, I need to find a way to raise about $25,000 for a...thing...and I know my measly cuttings won't do it, but if I post my life's work - lesson plans, plays, original scenes and monologues, etc...it's better than having them sit in binders rotting on a shelf now that I'm out of the classroom.

*

Need to deal with that last phrase for a second.

*

I'm back.

SO HERE I GO. Trying to create a little savings for an (adoption? maybe?) Don't get your knickers in a twist...we're just putting the idea out there.

But if we don't at least try...well, you know the rest.

So in case someone is looking for a play full of amazing girl roles, very little sets and modern costuming...(All the things you know I know you need) its at this link:

THIS IS THE LINK:  The Teachers Pay Teachers page for WHEN

Take a gander but know this for sure: I am officially okay about letting other people take the work. It's an important piece, written by an amateur...but gosh I love it so.

I'm not telling you this so you'll buy the file! You dont' have to buy the file!! But if you truly want to spend a couple of hours reading it, email me and I'll send you the file for free. I'm charging $15 for a download on Teacher Pay Teacher and that's kind of a lot, but I figured if people wanted to make copies of it after that, they can.

WHEW. I did it. I didn't think I would. Somethings take me a while.

From Act 1 Scene 2..for all my theatre teacher friends out there...

BLITHE
When did we decide to wear wings, Miss Cassie?

CASSIE
My mom made them - she thought they might be cool. I like them. She said she’d make everyone a pair. She will.

BLITHE
Being a dream fairy in this version of the Bard’s comedy does not include the wearing of wings made out of pantyhose. It’s about physicality. We talked about this on the first rehearsal. This is not the first rehearsal, this is a dress rehearsal. Without wings.

RACHEL
I am not wearing a pair of wings covered in glitter - it might get in my contacts and I hear glitter can cut your eyeball.
(We hear in the background Young Audrey yell, "Everybody on stage for warm-ups!" and Cassie eiits immediately)

DANNI
You can see the elastic.

CASSIE
It is a play - it’s not . . .we have masks, what’s the difference?

BLITHE
Masks are from our great Greek heritage - this play is set in Athens, GREECE. It is part of the total concept. Look, it’s just not going to happen.
 (She takes a deep breath and starts moving wildly around room)

Girls, it’s about physicality. It’s about moving like a woodland fairy - thinking like a woodland fairy. BEING a woodland fairy from your center - from your psyche. . .

CASSIE
Did we cover this in rehearsal?

DANNI
C’mon, warmups!

RACHEL
Has anyone seen my inhaler? If I lose my inhaler I’ll never make it to the fifth act.

CASSIE
What about just for the dance scene? We could wear them in the dance . . . my mother . . .

BLITHE
Has anyone seen my keys?