I've come to see some theatre, eh?

The end of your average scholastic year was a melancholy time; you were losing a group of students that you had just spent four years getting used to, so there were some mixed emotions:

A nice blend of "I'm going to miss you guys terribly" to "How can I miss you if you don't go away?"

But the ensuing free time, between the graduation ceremony and the start date of whatever summer theatre gig I had managed to land, was a time for going back to the Mitten to see the folks, catch up with the sibs, and inevitably head into the land of Canada, to visit that Shakespearean theme park, Stratford Ontario.

I would go for about a six days every summer, see as many plays as I could stick into those days, eat good food, smoke exotic cigarettes, and spend cash like it was Monopoly money because, well...that's what it looked like.

Back in the day, I had an 'in' up there; a great actor named Nicholas who would come to the Northern University when I was a student to do some workshops. I would write him to let him know of my coming, and he would, at the very least, arrange his schedule to get a meal, or a cuppa coffee, and we would talk about everything but theatre.

Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans; my life got more complex with my sabbatical (which, as the old joke goes, turned into a Mondacal and a Tuesdical) so the last time I was up there was the summer of '96.

And I fully intend to get there again, in the very near future. Right after I take up permanent residence along the Cedar River.

The first time I ever attended Stratford, I was a high school senior bussed up to see a matinee performance of Henry V. It was performed in the Festival theatre, which seats almost 2000 people, a thrust stage with not a bad seat to be had. I don't think I had ever seen anything like it.....and Stratford became a kind of sacred Shangri-La for the likes of me.

A place where nobody ages; where ancient texts are brought to life; where the streets are all tree-lined; where the swans are an almost blinding white; and where there isn't a shopping mall to be seen for miles.

Of course, it's harder now; you need a passport, and the currency exchange rate no longer favors the American dollar.

But I am impatiently waiting for the opportunity to hear the brass quartet announce the beginning of the play.