Dear Laney,
Missoula has one of the pre-eminent children's theatres in the country (this is not a joke) and they also offer a summer theatre camp for kids 6-13. I signed you up for a week-long camp earlier this month; you were going to attend classes and workshops and at the end of the week, you'd perform in a production of Blackbeard the Pirate. Anyone who has ever met you and then been
Instead, you hated theatre camp. You, the child who likes to clutch her imaginary pearls and shout "HOW DARE YOU?!?" when you discover your brother taking the last granola bar from the box, were not about drama school.
On the first day, they assigned roles for Blackbeard, and you and your friend Laila (and all the other 6 year-olds) were cast as parrots. Coming off a triumphant (but uninspiring) run as Snow Chickens, you had each hoped for a better role. There's a lot more sitting around in theatre - and in TV, oh man - than you had expected. You thought the whole week was more or less a drag.
After paying for camp registration, parents also had to pay for tickets to the weekend's show. With my "Snow Queen" experience fresh in my head, I called Laila's mom and arranged for each of us to attend ONE performance; we'd take the matinee and she took the evening show. That way, you and Laila would have a friendly face in the audience at both shows, and none of the grown-ups would have to see the show twice.
Let me tell you - and I say this with all the love in my heart, and as someone who would literally hurl herself in front of a bus for you should the need arise - the show was terrible. It made no sense. No one seemed to be having a good time. There were too many kids (20 parrots! 14 mermaids! 8 crabs! 11 sailors! 6 pirates! 4 pieces of seaweed!) and no plot. There was a moment in the show when Parrot #1 said something like "I want a cracker!" and then Parrots #2 - #20 each repeated "Yeah! A cracker!" I guess so each child could say they had a speaking part. But listening to 20 kids in a row intone "Yeah! A cracker!" almost made my brain melt out of my ears. Again, I say this with love.
The camp sent a letter home that parents were NOT allowed to take photos during the show, but could come back after the evening production for a 6:00pm photo call. I respected their wishes and left my camera at home. I came BACK to the theatre later in the evening. I arrived at 5:45p so I'd be sure to get in and find a spot before the photo call. Instead, I discovered that the play had ended early and they'd decided to go ahead and have everyone come out for pictures, so at 5:45pm, I had just missed the 6:00pm photo call.
You know how sometimes I can fixate on a little logistical thing-gone-wrong until I wind myself up in such a tizzy that my peripheral vision starts to blur and my blood pressure escalates and I end up writing letters to half of Missoula suggesting various activities people should undertake with the horses they rode in on? This was one of those. Your dad urged me not to e-mail the theatre in the midst of my rage stroke. Instead, I sent them an e-mail the next day about how disappointed I was. To their credit, they e-mailed me back right away (correctly assuming they were dealing with an unhinged woman who lives just twenty blocks away and is willing to use her powers for evil) and suggested I bring you back to the theatre at my convenience, where they would put you back in costume and make-up and I could take all the pictures of you I wanted until I no longer wanted to burn their houses down. Instead, I took a deep breath and e-mailed them back and said I appreciated their offer, but instead I was going to remind myself that you were playing Fourth Parrot From The Left, and not accepting a Lifetime Achievement Award from the American Theatre Wing. La la la la, life goes on.
Fortunately, Laila's mom snapped some photos with her phone, so we can always remember your brief stint as a parrot:
If ever there was a photo of someone thinking, "This is bullshit," ^ that one is it.
When all was said and done, you and Laila were in much better spirits, and if anyone asks you what your favorite thing about theatre camp was, you'll probably say, "When it was all over and we got to go out for spaghetti."
That was the audience's favorite part, too.
Polly wanna cracker. Mama need a beer.
Love,
Mom
Missoula Children's Theatre makes an annual stop in Charlottesville. We took the girls a few years ago. We quickly realized that an MCT show is for the children participating and their doting families, but not for the benefit of the "audience" as you might normally understand the word. We spent $30 to watch other children get their first onstage experience. We've never been back.
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