This is what we do.

We're winding down rehearsals now; a few to go before we put the thing before the payin' public.  It's coming in fits and starts...some are better prepared than others, and while in the early days of long silences between the words where the struggle to find the cue and the connection held sway, now people are picking things up that had been dropped, adjusting, taking the piece of the puzzle and cutting a new shape to get it to fit.

You know...the usual stuff.

I tell stories in the breaks of the great moments, and the great disasters of my previous career; and in the telling, the feeling returns.....

That feeling of belonging to a place.  Belonging to a group.

(And no, Audra, not a PACK.  A family...of which you are a part...)

But that group is long ago and far away....or, in some cases, simply far away.  I still have those connections created in the past....the family pieced together by necessity and location, bonded by something bigger...something unspoken....like a nod, or a smile at the right time.  Or a drunken dance in a kitchen at 2 AM.

I don't have that here, and I've been struggling to figure out why. 

I think a part of it is my nature...the people that are still hanging around, far away and still connected, put in some work to get close to me.  I am not, by nature, outgoing.  But they made the effort, and in giving, they made it easy for me to give back.  And for that mutual trust and honesty, they are still there....in my memory, still drunkenly dancing in a kitchen at 2 AM.

Here.....I think I put on my intimidating shirt and do my job and people see that as a wall un-scale-able.  And I don't get a chance to open up, because I can't seem to make the time.

There are a few...and I'm grateful for those who have let me in, who let me share.

There is one I would give anything to have back, but I'm an idiot and I can't stop being one.

I'll close with a story....

I was recently doing a play with a group of talented young folk at the college.  They played around me, not quite sure to make of this aged doofus who answered questions with grace and intelligence and wit, but I was old enough to be their parents, and that's ALSO a wall un-scale-able.  But little by little we managed to find a field that we could both play in; sometimes together, sometimes not...but reasonable.

I am, in some cases, fond of structure.  I feel that since there's enough uncertainty when walking onto a stage where ANYTHING can go wrong, it's good to have as much on the ball as you can; and that's what rehearsals are for.  To plan for the inevitable misstep.  And I have a very low tolerance for people who are unprepared or who think that call times are just a suggestion.

Well, one of them pissed me off.  So, I did what I usually do; rather than rail and swear, I simply shut it out and said, "f**k it."

Well, during the opening night performance, there was an issue.  And I stepped in.  And I held a hand, and talked quietly and it got under control and all went back to normal.

That's me.....able to recognize and help to overcome the panic attack.

The person thanked me.  I nodded my head and said the only thing that ever made sense in situations like that....

"This is what we do."

We take care of each other.   Even when we're pissed at each other.  Like a family.

I could use a few more of those in the area.

But I need to be open to it.

So.

Knowing where to step is the first step.