We came far, not without disappointment, not without fail, not without pain. We had plenty of those this year now closing the curtains on us.
Or is it us, closing the curtains on it…
To me it feels like a play. In a theater.
I remember when it began. The libretto didn’t help much, back in January 2023. It all seemed familiar, with too many gaps, like those booklets they give you at the Opera, where you find everything except what you really want to know.
If you are lucky, you are not done reading it as the lights dim and darkness sets in, just before the curtains open and it all starts. And you kinda know the ending, but you stay, anyway.
Maybe this time Turandot will surprise you, before Nessun Dorma… Maybe love will triumph sooner, this time. And then it all changes, and the score changes, the set changes, the actors change, the lights change. You hold on to the libretto thinking “this can’t be right”. And then you hear a top of the show call. And you realize it’s you they’re calling. And it’s December.
The first thing you think about is what you are wearing. Will people take you seriously, unless you dress the part?
Can someone bring you a fresh cup of coffee and a script? There are a few lines you need to go over, before setting foot on stage. But there’s no coffee, no script. Just you and a mirror, and some clothing racks. And you sit down, look at the reflection on the glass, surrounded by incandescent bulbs, and you reach for the make up. Who shall we be today…? The hero or the villain? Can you play a part designed for another gender? Of course you can, but… Can you pull it off?…
Someone knocks on the door and says “5 minutes!” You look in the mirror one last time, putting the used make up away. You look the part. It will be fine. And then it hits you. And you take a cotton swab, and hastily remove all the make up, and then you get off those clothes, you thought were perfectly adapted for the role. And you walk out of the dressing room.
It’s the last performance of the year.
Let’s go out with a bang.
The stage manager calls places. You move.
You disregard the disbelief in the eyes of others, as they watch you take your place, center stage.
It’s too late now. Curtains up. It’s showtime, folks.
The flood light hit you and there’s a murmur coming from the audience, as they realize you are naked on stage. Alone. When it dies down, you move forward a little, just a couple of steps, unable to see those you will address with words yet to be written. Words that need saying.
You take a deep breath. And you just… Let it all out.
There’s no script. There never was. You could have used the coffee, though, but you’re hardly an “actor”, let alone one anyone would consider a gesture of kindness before stage, like bringing you a fresh cup of coffee. But they couldn’t do anything about the script, even if their kindness existed. Or you were a star.
They listen to you.
As you go through the things you need to say, those things you carried inside, hidden, put away in shame or fear, they do listen.
They want their admission’s worth of acting, their moment of detachment from reality. And yet it’s reality they see on stage. Unscripted reality. Reality really happening before their eyes. Some will realize this and be amused, some will feel vindicated in their assertions of “in ars veritas”, misguided as they may be, and yet others feel uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. Your nakedness troubles them more than your words. It distracts them from the truth, yet it’s what reveals it.
It’s not at all how they expected to end the year, and they hate it. But they paid for the ticket, and by God, they will endure it to the bitter end.
You will never know which is which. And the few that will come greet you in the end, you know would come, anyway. Your measure is still the applause. How long will they applaud you, if at all, but if they do, how long will it last? Will they still applaud when you leave the stage?
Will the stage manager call for lights too soon, sending the audience home, or will they stay off, allowing for your return to bask in their recognition? And is it recognition, or is it themselves they are applauding, for having endured you…
If you are lucky, there will be one only, waiting for you backstage. And that’s all the recognition you really need. If not… Keep doing it, until that one is there. It will happen one day. So keep doing it.
Time. Here’s your curtain call. Go.
* Posted on Threads Sunday, December 31, 2023, as a morning post.
“This is it, folks. We made it. December 31, 2023.”
#OakiesLittleWords
