So much to be thankful for, which is hard to imagine during these turbulent divisive times, but yes, lots and lots to be grateful for. Right around this time a couple of years ago, my father was ‘called back’ and my family could barely muster any Thanksgiving enthusiasm, but my brother Mando felt that the kids needed it, and off my sister Sandy ran to a Mimi’s Café and got some stuff to bring home. I still remember that prayer before we ate, yes there was, even in the deepest of our grief, so much to be grateful for, starting with our very breath. Every year I finish a new play, and I have been so damn lucky that they have all been produced (even the stinkers,) and at the end of that grueling process I imagine that this is the end. I will not be able to do this again because each time I write, it is as if I am writing for the first time, I always say to myself ‘now what?’ and the universe opens another door, another opportunity. In the end I am so grateful that I get to do what I was meant to do in my life, create, and be a citizen artist by using my craft to create the change I want to see in the world. I also get to move the field forward in the most ancient of ways, by teaching. That I get to share it with my family, including the one I have made, friends, my colleagues, etc. is beyond the beyond for me. Depression can be paralyzing and my depression about this cruelty (and stupidity) that sometimes exists in our field and the larger pain in our world, most recently with the events in Ferguson, took a little toll on me. But then, there I was standing on a street in Pasadena waiting for my dear long time friend, Nancy Keystone, and I see this utility box transformed, which is an Eleanor Roosevelt quote and there comes Nancy running up Colorado Boulevard, better than a Rose Parade Queen,, she is wearing bright green and tan, and her face lights up and we have coffee and talk and commiserate and all that stupidity and brutality and impossibility and darkness melts away. Old friends can do that for us. And then she gives me the most beautiful Thanksgiving gift, a book of poetry from a celebrated poet from Poland. I close my eyes and open to any page and this is the poem for today… “Everything’s mine but just on loan, nothing for the memory to hold, though mine as long as I look.” As if that wasn’t enough, off I go to Jon Rivera’s wonderful annual family Thanksgiving get together and maybe appropriately the only shot that came through on my camera is a picture of Zenaida (Jon’s mom) and I, in front of our ‘Straight as a Line’ poster, a big moment for Jon and I as collaborators and formed the basis of our deep friendship. And now I am off to do homework (grrr….) but that’s okay, it feels good when you are so happy to be alive and be here at this moment in history. This moment of great possibility. Grateful.
Posted on: Thu, 27 Nov 2014 21:12:15 +0000
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