What’s Going On
This past weekend was a busy one.
Open Trellis
Saturday, I attended an RVA Works workshop for people considering starting a business. RVA Works is a program of Open Trellis. I have been a part of the RVA Works faculty since the program was created. The program used to be 17 weeks, and has been truncated to 12 weeks. The workshop participants essentially build a business plan during the program. Seventy-two percent of our graduates’ businesses are still up and running after 7 years.
I attended Saturday’s event as a student taking a fresh look at The Storytellers Channel. The world is a different place than it was before the pandemic, and I thought it would behoove me to sit down and reexamine my assumptions. It was time well spent.
J.R. Tucker High School Class of 1982 40th Reunion
This was Marie’s 40th high school reunion. You may remember when Marie and I attended my 52nd reunion this past spring, she and I both contracted Covid. So far, so good.
The event was held at Midnight Brewery, a little micro-brewery in Goochland County. I ordered shrimp and grits from La Bête, the Louisiana food truck. It was delicious. The grits were smooth and creamy, and shrimp were succulent and flavorful. We only stayed a couple of hours, but good food under the stars, coupled with good stories as people caught up was a lovely way to spend an evening.
BTW, you may remember, J. R. Tucker was the school that represented the American High School Theatre Festival at The Edinburgh Fringe Festival this past summer.
After church Sunday, Marie and I drove down to Williamsburg, VA. It’s only a little over an hour drive when the traffic’s behaving. We picked up, Stella, one of our surrogate granddaughters, at her dorm at William & Mary and went to see 12 Angry Men at the Williamsburg Players.
I’ve seen the movie several times, but this was my first time seeing the play. My friend, Marty Bussert, played Juror #3, aka the bad guy. I thoroughly enjoyed his, and the rest of the cast’s, performance. Five of the roles were played by women, but it had no impact one way or the other on the tension. We so enjoyed the performance we became season subscribers. So, we’ll be driving back down to Williamsburg at least four more times this theatre season.
I arranged for Stella, who is a student lighting designer at W&M, to tour their booth and when they discovered she’s a lighting designer they asked her to interview. I hope something comes of that meeting.
Then we had dinner. Our food was delicious. Especially the coffee, 100% Organic Valentine Caribbean Blend. I’m going to see if I can track it down here in Richmond.
After dropping Stella back at her dorm, Marie and I drove home on Scenic Route 5 past Shirley, Sherwood Forest, Berkeley, and Westover plantations. It’s a lovely tree-shrouded drive. It took a little longer than I-64, but the twists and turns kept me awake.
If you ever get to Richmond or Williamsburg, I encourage you to tours these beautiful properties.
Once home, we crashed and then my Monday started off meeting with a business advisor continuing the conversation started at Saturday morning’s workshop.
All-in-all, a great weekend.
National Storytelling Festival
Friday, October 7th through Sunday the 9th
Some of the world’s greatest storytellers come to the tiny town of Jonesborough, TN and mesmerize audiences of all ages.
Hosted by the International Storytelling Center, it’s an event that belongs on your bucket list.
Marie and I will be there.
We’ve been tent hosts for years and we look forward to welcoming you to this delightful community.
“Stories constitute the single most powerful weapon in a leader’s arsenal.”
– Dr. Howard Gardner
Featured Storyteller
Rebecca Taylor
Becky is a two-dimensional artist who dwells on the edges of the surreal. She uses shifts in colors to take obvious subject matter to another place and time. She creates congested compositions to pull the viewer into an intimate space, forcing engagement. Her vibrantly colored work conveys an unpretentious, folksy look.
She has just finished designing the marketing communication graphics for our upcoming show, Speaking Truth to Power: Stories of Moses.
Nightmare
I did my first professional show as an actor when I was 15 years old. Eight years later I was in the first professional production of Godspell in Virginia. It was during this show that I began experiencing anxiety attacks.
These “attacks” took the form of my not being able to take a deep breath. Silly as it may seem, even writing about it right now, I began to experience the tightness in my chest. I played the roles of John The Baptist and Judas. When the show would start the cast would rush on stage, but I would have to wait until after the first number and enter from the back of the theater. I would stand at the top of the stairs and blow the Shofar, a ram’s horn, and then I would sing, Prepare Ye the Way of The Lord.
My goal was to startle the person sitting in front of me, so they would jump in their seat. And then to draw every eye in the theater as I marched down the aisle and up onto the stage. It was a grand entrance, but the adrenaline rush came at a price.
I would stand in the lobby, starved for breath. My chest getting tighter and tighter. My breathing shallower and shallower. And then every night, just as I stepped through those doors at the back of the house, my body would relax. I would draw a deep breath and I was good to go.
Some people view the life of a gypsy actor as stressful. Had you asked me, I would have denied that description. I worked regularly, and I was confident that I could always find work. Some degree of this self-deception is necessary to survive in that world. However, I think my subconscious saw the situation differently.
It was during this period that I began to suffer from a variation on what is known as The Actor’s Nightmare. The classic Actor’s Nightmare is the actor has forgotten their lines. In Christopher Durang’s one-act play, The Actor’s Nightmare, the actor doesn’t even know which play he’s in. much less what role he’s playing.
My variation started during the run of that production of Godspell back in 1975. I would find myself in a car speeding across the parking lot to the theater. I had Xray vision as shown in the Superman comic books of my youth. I could see through the walls of the building. The second act was about to begin. And yet, no matter how hard I pressed down on the gas pedal, no matter how fast I sped across that parling lot, I was going to miss my entrance.
This is a totally nonsensical situation. There is no way I would have left the building during the intermission. I never experienced anything like this. And yet, the nightmare persists.
Last night, I dreamt a new variation. I was cast in a show. We rehearsed in the venue where the show was to have been performed. For some reason on the eve of the performance I am dressed in my costume, except for my pants. I don’t know were I am, but I am NOT at the venue. I get there and the costumes have been moved as has the show. It turns out the show has been moved to another venue.
I ask Robin Jenkins, a Toastmaster friend, “Where are my pants?” I ask her, “Where is the rest of the cast?” She doesn’t know and begins to cry. I rush out into the lobby and the patrons for the show at that theater think nothing of a man running around in ruffled shirt with no pants on.
Someone says they can take me to where the show is being performed. We run through the streets and just as I “know” the curtain must be rising and I am not there I startled awake.
I lay in bed strangled by the sheets as my wife called me a “sheet thief.”
It was time to get up and walk and I declined. I rolled back over and for the next half-hour I was back on the streets searching for the theater.
I awoke again at 6:30 and told myself this isn’t real. Sleep tried to take back my consciousness, but I sat up telling myself, “This isn’t real.” It took serious effort to rouse myself, make the bed, throw on some jeans and walk into the kitchen.
Even as I stood there making my breakfast, my body was wracked with guilt that I had missed my entrance. That I had let my fellow actors and the audience down. I had to keep telling myself, “It was dream. It didn’t happen.”
I’ve been up for a couple of hours now, and I can still feel the residue of the adrenaline.
I don’t have a take away from this experience, other than I needed a story for today’s newsletter, and I did go to bed wondering what I would share today.
I’m signing off; hoping I’ll have a peaceful night, tonight.
I’d Love to Hear from You
Do you suffer nightmares?
Want to share?
Til next time,
Gayle Turner
Executive Producer