The Main Stage

      As I watch Genoa twist and squirm as she tries to make her college choice, and as I myself twist and squirm as I try to stay out of it, I am forced to reminisce about myself. And nobody wants to hear me talk about myself, so I'll write a blog.
      I was never a "Main Stage" Kid. At least in reality. In My Own Head it was always about Me, yes. But in the real world, not so much. In high school I was fringe. My GPA was pathetic and I liked choir and theatre and lit. I have no recollection of ever doing homework, but I know I felt like garbage when the kids who did do their homework went to College: Ft. Lewis, ASU, Somewhere In Iowa, CU, UNC etc etc. By the Grace of God and the Will of K.Starkey I enrolled at Metro, thinking I'd be a lit major and teach English. I had decided, you see, that theatre wasn't going to work out for me because I couldn't afford to go to New York. But that is not the point of this story.

     I switched from Metro, to UCD, to the University of Houston, to CU Denver (they'd changed the name by then) to Metro for my teaching certificate. At UH I worked with Edward Albee in the Black Box, and took a  class with Jose Quintero, but never made it onto the Main Stage. I just wasn't talented enough crack that proscenium. Or so I thought. Now I believe it was just a round hole and I was a square peg. Fringe. Not Fit For The Main Stage.  I loved my time at UH, and to this day if someone asks me where I went to college I say "UH". But I was not a Main Stage kid. Like the kids we called "lobby rats", I scuttled around the edges and learned what I could from those willing to teach, but ultimately, I left no impression. I was not a star.
      Now I work for the "Mane Stage", named before I arrived since we are the Littleton Lions, and I run the joint. I scuttle and schlep and galumph around the edges, poking actors and yelling "Commit!", stitching buttons or hot gluing hems. Waving my arms at the kid in the grid as I explain 45 degree angles and bastard amber. Even occasionally walking the set with a drill. (It is NOT a good day if I have to walk a set with a drill. Someone is fired at that point.) I design or try to, teach design or try to, unlock doors, keep the stage manager on task, offer a shoulder for the weeping and a Mohawk for the annoying. I take away fridge privileges and supervise as the dead microwave is smashed to pieces. I yell at them to go to college: "I don't care where, just GO!" and preach "You get out of college what you get in. Do not go for a NAME stamped on your diploma. Follow your heart, find the program that feeds your soul and will not bankrupt your family."
       And then I cannot practice what I preach, because I was never hand picked for a conservatory program and offered a scholarship, but my daughter was, so she HAS to go there, right?
       Oklahoma City University has turned out to be one hell of a powerhouse department. Who knew? And Genoa was all about it, but it's a degree with a double emphasis in Theatre Costume design and Set design. No stage time as an actor. Internships and a guaranteed job at the end. But a double major is impossible, and minors are not recommended.
       Genoa was sold up to that point.
       So she decided to visit Ft. Lewis. She likes Durango, they have a solid liberal arts program, are kinda hippie-tastic without being too annoying and the theatre had offered her a scholarship.
       So we visited.
       Ft. Lewis could not be farther away from OCU if it was on Pluto.
       She could double major in theatre and poly sci and pick up a minor in anything else she wanted. She thinks maybe she'd like to go to law school. She could work in theatre her whole life, she doesn't see that going anywhere, but is not ready to give up being an actor. Ft. Lewis ain't OCU. There is no stellar architecture, stained glass or three stages. No BFA with connections and only 3,000.00 students on campus. She cannot say she was "hand picked" for a degree program that has 35 kids in it if she chooses Ft. Lewis.
       Ft. Lewis' theatre is smaller and possibly older than the one she is in now.
       She's a slam poet. She decided to play golf senior year. She is a Makeup and Hair designer with an interest in costume and set design. She lights up when she talks about religion or philosophy. She wants to study abroad. She gets distracted by history and literature, and has entertained the idea of being a teacher.
       In a nutshell: she truly has no idea what she wants to do with her life. Only that theatre will be a part of it.
       And she says "I'm waiting for a sign to tell me where to go."
       And I have to stand there, on the fringe, and watch her twitch on the Main Stage and be supportive and try not to point out that, the sign is there.
        Are you listening to yourself?
        The answer is there.
        But mom...me...must stay out of it.
        She was practically drooled on by the Ft. Lewis Dept Chair who sounded like he'd give her full tuition if he could. He Loved Her. And She Loved Him. He talked to her. The OCU department chair--who is my new best friend --talked to me.
        But that was not a sign.
        Keeping my own shit out of my daughter's life has never been easy. But man, it sucks right now.
        She has to make her own choice. And I want her to be happy.
        And I don't want her to go through what I did.
        That is the American Dream, right? To give your kids the chances you did not have?
        I had to attend Metro because my GPA was a joke. I transferred to UCD as soon as I could because I thought it would look better on my transcript. Moved to UH because Jim moved to Houston and enrolled at UH because it was there. No research at all. I literally wandered onto the campus and enrolled. I had to leave UH when I ran out of money, and returned to Denver to re-enroll at CU Denver to finish my damned degree, once and for all. I worked 2-3 jobs regularly while attending all the schools, got married, had everything I owned stolen, owned cats, acted and auditioned everywhere, all of the time.
        12 years after I graduated from high school, I had a B.A.
        Financially we'd have to take a second on the house to make OCU work, even with the generous scholarship. But I would do it, because...
        Well, she's been given that chance.
          Right?
          She'd have a shot at the Main Stage.
          SIGH.

         So Genoa just came home. "I've made my choice."

               ...