“25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee,” in the rearview of nostalgia

So yeah, all of our shows are memorable. All are life journeys. All make memories that we keep forever. But this one -- dramatic pause -- this one was something different, something special. The cast was so perfect, the performances all so wonderful. From about the fifth week on, it was clearly a show that everyone was going to have trouble saying good-bye to. We happened onto something truly meaningful to do with our pre-show circle time. One night, we each shared a piece of audience feedback we'd gotten; another evening, we shared our favorite parts of the show; and again, on another night, we went around the circle and shared what line or song lyric was stuck in our heads. It was all wonderful and heartfelt sharing. I woke up in the middle of the night on the Saturday before our closing Sunday thinking about what items from this show should go in the Props Hall of Fame. At the Dungeon where we rehearse, we have the Props Hall of Fame shelves where we display and label memorable stuff from each production we’ve done. I rifled though the list of show props in my head and tried to make decisions about what should go on the shelf for this show; there were just too many. Suddenly, the idea came into my head to create a Time Capsule for this show -- and put many props into it -- to capture the joy and the memories I know we’ll all have. Using the cooler that Mitch Mahoney uses for the juice boxes he gives to spellers who miss their words, we put the following items: • Olive Ostrovksy’s pink headband • The bell from the spelling table • Mitch Mahoney’s home detention ankle bracelet • The Coneybear family phone • Rona Lisa Peretti’s realtor pin • Marcy Park’s yellow beret • Leaf Coneybear’s fanny pack • An empty peanut M & Ms package • Chip Tolentino’s boy scout sash • Olive’s mother’s scarf • One of Logainne Schwartzandgrubenierre’s lapel pins • Dan Dad’s hairbrush • Carl Dad’s bow tie • Jesus’ heart patch • A playbill • A ticket • A spelling bee ribbon • A spelling bee number • A copy of the curtain speech And then, everyone signed the cooler with a black marker. It will now go on the top shelf of the Props Hall of Fame, and whenever we need a little dose of 25PCSB, we can open it, and remember our Spelling Bee family.

A Love Letter to the Cast of "Spelling Bee"

It’s just 45 minutes before I need to be at rehearsal. I’m presently working on the costume plot for “The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee.” For me, and maybe for others, there’s nothing like making a list or a chart for focusing. It narrows the big picture somewhat; organizes what needs to be done; breaks things down into pieces that can be chewed and swallowed (note to self: don’t forget to grab something to eat before leaving the house). In clicking around, I came across this blogpost. It ends up as a love letter to tech week – um, IS there such a thing – but it starts out in a nightmare scenario. I read it with horror and sympathy. And for the gazillionth time, I reflect on how amazingly lucky I am with CrazyLake. I have the most amazing – hold on – let me check the thesaurus….let’s go with ‘extraordinary’ for this paragraph – group of people surrounding me. This team of actors – all of you so perfect in your parts, your work ethic beyond reproach, the chemistry and companionship between all of you. How, HOW did I get so lucky? I looked around rehearsal last night and saw that most of you were off book – a week ahead of our deadline. We paused very few times during the stop and start rehearsal, and I ended up giving maybe four notes during the run-through. Is the show already THAT perfect? We have never had a tech week on the disastrous scale of the one in the blog post. I firmly believe that you – my cast and crew – are my clients, the ones from whom the feedback truly matters. I want you to have a good time in CrazyLake. As the director, one of my goals is to make SURE that the stress – any stress – falls on me – not on you, the actor. I know I push, and I set deadlines and I give notes and notes and notes – but another one of my goals is to make sure you are ready to perform. When I send you out there in front of god and everyone – your families, your friends and neighbors, the Greenfield dignitaries – that you are ready, that any nervousness is nervous energy you can channel into your performance and not nervousness for lack of preparation. The set is ready; the costumes are complete; props are in place; lights and sound and entrances and exits are all rehearsed – nothing is left to chance. We are all bonded long before Hell Week; we are dark the night before the performance so everyone CAN hit the boards rested and ready to go. Nothing is left to chance. I belong to a Theatre Director/Teacher Facebook group, and the anguished and horrific situations that some of these directors face are jaw-dropping: actors quitting, permission to use performance spaces revoked, equipment breaking down, entire bags of costumes accidentally thrown away. The stress of the one posting is palpable. It’s hard to read their stories. And I know, oh, I KNOW how lucky I am. The planets aligned when my path crossed with Amy Studabaker. The teams of people that I have assembled both for on the stage and behind the scenes, like a giant wad of blue tape pulled from the painted set, these people came to KPCL and just…got stuck to the ball of tape. And I love them for it. You guys are the absolute best. At everything you do. I know we’re only halfway to a show, but man, it is lookin’ good, eh? I love you all and I’ll see you at rehearsal. https://www.onstageblog.com/columns/2015/11/3/an-open-letter-to-tech-week?fbclid=IwZXh0bgNhZW0CMTEAAR16ipqTopOfnYCco4n-S9kk1Lap0nffCX8mTpqdAhu9_w8wyza3dznftaM_aem_AU8A_vUQ8RqG9m2KI0qUTk3ovYQp4v_9U0XCjNALNKkLOt1bNwYFp-BM2Qw7x1ut_efH8VDc7Ktj82ptgustvs7Y