Thinking of Sonny as the rehearsal goes on.....

One of the things I remember most is sitting in a chair in a single light, doing a monologue I have done a hundred times before.

The dreaded Chair Exercise.

I was in my first year of Graduate Studies at the University in the Middle of Nowhere, and the first instructor I really connected with used this particular exercise to rend and tear his students to shreds.

That last part should read, "allow the student to get in touch with a different perspective to comfortable material."

He had the unique ability to see insincerity; although without taking anything away from his abilities, I'm not sure I was oozing sincerity to begin with back in those early days.  But he had put several of my fellows through this exercise, and there had been frustration and tears and now.....it was my turn.

I learned something in that simple exercise.  Okay, two things.

First....I freakin' HATE the chair exercise.

And second, it's important to take in everything all around you; and use those things that are happening now; not what happened yesterday or last week or last night or last YEAR, but right there, right then.

Be here.  Now.

His name is Sonny Bell.  He is an Sherpa to actors.  As a director, he would show you a map of where you were, and where you were supposed to go, but the course and heading was yours to find.  And if you trailed off, he would bring you back on course with a few quick questions.

Seriously.....I remember doing Horatio in Hamlet and was stuck on a certain scene that just wasn't going right.  I stepped into Sonny's office to talk about it and he asked me three questions, and by the end I knew what to do.  And I don't remember the questions...except I'm pretty sure one of them was, "so, what did you have for lunch today?"

He had the capacity to make a read-though exciting; and wasn't above standing in the back of the theatre during a rehearsal and do a little dance when things went well.  No matter how busy the day was, he still brought energy to the process, and inspired that same energy in everybody.

He directed me in a couple plays in the two years I spent there; he gave advice to the one-hander I did on Harry Truman (in fact, he suggested it), and helped out with some scene work that the Great Breen and I did for an Irene Ryan competition.  He eventually became the guide for two of my best friends, and one of my students.

He has since retired to the Southeast; he still dabbles in the art, communes with nature, and even though he's had some illness lately, he's basically approached it with courage and stamina, and kicked ass.

Thanks, Sonny.  I'm still learning.

And I still get that rush.

And I even do a little dance when it goes just right.