Live Alone In A Paradise That Makes Me Think Of Two
Today is the 25th Anniversary of my arrival in Seattle (well, technically I spent a few months living in unincorporated Sea-Tac before officially moving inside the city limits in the winter of '86, but I worked in Seattle, so you know, semantics and what-not).
Hard to believe two and a-half decades have passed since I left the northern wilds of Bellingham, trekked south down I-5 in a 1972 Chevy Impala 4-door carrying everything I owned, to meet up with an ex-college roommate from Ellensburg, who had already secured us lodgings in what turned out to be probably the largest living space (as defined by total square footage times number of occupants) I've lived in during that entire time. We were both dirt poor, and knew probably only a handful of people in the city, mostly people with whom we'd gone to school, and had our sights set on breaking into the local theatre business.
And here it is, 25 years later: Kevin moved back to Shelton probably 20 years ago, bottomed out, and eventually got his act together, in the process becoming a substance abuse councilor (a subject he definitely knew a thing or two about, at least based on my own personal observations). Me, amazingly, I'm still "in the business", although not doing what I figured I'd be doing at this point in my life.
Funny how things turn out. At the age of 24 I was setting my sights on an artistic career (which has come true), but all the other more traditional goals: marriage, family, home buying, etc., etc. seem to have fallen by the wayside. And here I am on the cusp of 50, having to acknowledge that, barring some unforeseen miracle, most of those things are simply never going to happen. Not that I'm complaining - for the most part - because, all things considered, I've built a pretty good life. I live in a beautiful city (it has its problems, but what city doesn't?), have an interesting and challenging career, a passionate avocation, innumerable colleagues, and a handful of true-and-trusty friends, none of which I would give up for anything.
But still, one can't help but reflect, at least a bit, on what I may have missed in the process. For all intents-and-purposes, my particular genetic line ends here. That's a pretty sobering thought: I have several nieces, but you know, patriarchal blood-lines being what they are in Western Civilization, it means no more Comte's - at least on this branch of the family. Other branches will continue, but I'm not going to be contributing anything new to my own. I've become an evolutionary dead-end.
Do I regret it? Only slightly. I wonder sometimes about the experience of parenthood and the question not having been one inevitably brings up, namely, would I have been a good one? It's such an integral part of human existence that it's easy to take for granted, but for myself at least, knowing it's never going to be part of MY experience does make me feel somewhat, well, almost guilty in a way, like I've let down my genetic team somehow by refusing to get into the pool as it were.
But, one can only wallow in "woulda, coulda, shoulda's" for so long without risking becoming insufferably maudlin, and I don't have it in me to try for some ersatz emo/goth attitude, which would probably only end up making me even more insufferable, so there's that.
On the plus side, I've got some pretty good genetics working in my favor so far as longevity goes (three of my four grandparents have lived until well into their 90's), and therefore it's not unreasonable to anticipate I could hit that - or beyond. So, in a very real sense my life is truly only half over; with luck, I've got roughly another 50 years in me, which in and of itself leaves open all sorts of possibilities.
Although I seriously doubt shooting for "World's Oldest Dad" is going to be one of them. For one thing, what kid wants to walk down the aisle for their high school graduation to see some old geezer who rightfully should be their great-grandfather waving at them - unless of course he WAS their great-grandfather.
I suppose, in the end, there are some things you just can't quite let go of, regardless of the reality...
Harry Hooper Living In #10 Bought A Toupee & Glued It To His Head
I've been keeping a pretty low profile this past week aprez-show; just recharging the batteries, and letting things return to a more normal pace. Nothing exciting - trying to save that for the upcoming B-Day next weekend.
Still, wanted to surface for just a moment to let you know - things are A-Okay.
It's been a bit of a roller-coastery ride today: the memorial service for Dawn's mom was held this afternoon at Virginia Mason Medical Center, where Pat worked for much of her 30 year nursing career. Dawn handled it pretty well, all things considered, but she had a lot of support to help take some of the load off, and allow her to focus on the important things. Today was, I think, something of a catharsis for her in terms of being able to share some of the emotional turmoil she's been holding in for the past few days, but at the same time, it also gave her an opportunity to celebrate the life of someone very dear and close to her.
The one thing I realized during the course of the memorial was that Pat had many facets to her personality, and that she was highly respected by her colleagues, peers, friends and family. I didn't get to know her until several years after her retirement from a long career in nursing, and so I was impressed, although not particularly surprised, to learn that she was the first certified Nurse Practitioner in the State of Washington, and that she had helped to implement a number of programs in the Endocrinology Department at Virginia Mason, where she had also played a vital role in developing one of the world's most innovative diabetes treatment programs. It wasn't something she ever really talked about, but it was obviously an important part of her life, judging from the number of former colleagues who turned out to pay their respects.
Now of course, Dawn has to engage in the harder task at hand - moving on from her loss, and falling back into the rhythms of everyday life, albeit without the support of one of her strongest anchors by her side. It's going to take a while, but she'll be okay; she's already proven her resilliency in the face of adversity, and I think she's going to take the lessons she's learned from this experience forward with her. It doesn't mean things will be "comfortable" any time soon, far from it I expect. But, at the same time, discovering the extent to which her own inner resources can carry her must be of some comfort nonetheless.
I ducked out early from the post-proceedings to race over to the Theatre, where the company was in the midst of selecting our 2008-2009 season. It was a bit of a nail-biter for me, since I had submitted a proposal for a production that I intended to direct, but because of the scheduling conflict, I wasn't going to be present to speak on my own behalf.
It's a situation in which I rarely find myself - having to choose between supporting someone else in their time of need, versus supporting myself, and although the circumstances weren't in any way equitable (there was simply no way I wasn't going to be there for Dawn, despite the clear presence of many others also there at her side today), and there wasn't a moment's hesitation, or an inkling of regret in doing so. I simply had to trust that I had made a good case for my proposal, and also to trust that my colleagues would make a fair and judicious decision in my absence. Even so, I admit I was a bit unprepared for the hugs and cheers of congratulations that greeted my arrival at what turned out to be the tail-end of the selection process.
But now it's official: I'm going to be directing the World Premiere of "The Moon Is A Dead World", the first playscript by monologuist Mike Daisey, opening mid-October. Sounds like a ways off, sure, but it means rehearsals will begin early September, which means auditions need to be held no later than early August, which means I need to assemble a production team by, oh, say, early July - roughly a month from now; while at the same time assistant directing another production that opens mid-July.
Well, there goes MY summer.
I hadn't really had any one-on-one discussion about the project with other Company members prior to this afternoon, but I'm told by our Artistic Director that the show generated the most enthusiasm of all the projects considered, as evinced by the fact that immediately after we adjourned (roughly 15 minutes after my arrival), people started approaching me with ideas about how we might accomplish some of the not inconsiderable technical challenges, while I in turn began approaching others about coming on board in various capacities.
Needless to say, I'm excited, terrified, and frankly, a little emotionally overwhelmed at the moment, but I'm also thankful. I don't want to call it "karma", because that implies some sort of quid pro quo; I do something nice for someone, someone does something nice for me, because I don't believe that's the way the world works. It's really more a sense that I've made good choices in terms of who I support, and who I have around to support me, and I think today was a very good example of the effect those choices have on both myself and on others.
