a third act for my dear F

Pacific Theatre cast and crew for their latest production, the fabulous Seafarer.

Once in a while I have the privilege of participating in a donor appreciation night for Pacific theatre. Last night we gathered at the Jones’ lovely home with its delicious red walls and honeyed floors, Richard pouring excellent wine and Maureen handing out all sorts of elegant nibbles. It’s wonderful to meet the other side of the family.

Out of Pacific Theatre’s thirty years of existence, I have been around for twenty four. During that time I have grown to truly love so many patrons and staff and I’ve worked with at least three generations of artists. Maybe I would also love them if this was a bridge club or an accounting firm or a bowling league. But I daresay theatre creates an unusual and lasting intimacy. True stories stay true. Collective grief stays collective. Laughter shared stays shared. And when you have a theatre that does consistently provocative beautiful and powerful work, connections happen and a sense of belonging is created.

One of these dear friends and patrons got a terrible prognosis today. Cancer. In way too many places. I read the call for prayer her husband put out to friends, and I put my head down at my table and let big splashy tears pour down my cheeks. They are going public with her health because they are rallying for prayer, for a miracle. I feel so helpless in the face of that. I am sure we all do. What kind of humour can I write that could laugh that out of her system? What kind of beauty can I string together so that words could be medicine? All metaphors are trite. I want to tell you: “F” is winter pansy. She is snow drop. She is daffodil and she is tulip and she is bud. She is the kind of person who gets you through the winter. She pops up with such verve, you know, it’s almost damn saucy. Just seeing her makes me smile. Always has, always will. She is wit. She is gum boots and she is also at the same time velvety purple lovely. She is resilient. She is there. When I ask myself on those midwinter days, “Why do I even bother? Who cares about this play? Who will ever come to see this? I should give up.” I put “F” and her husband in the audience. Always. Among a very few others. My audience of “I do it for these spiritual curious intelligent soulful people.” They honestly keep me going. And she probably doesn’t know this. Most great people have no IDEA the impact they have on others. And this is just me who has felt the impact. Imagine those really close to her? Now she’s in the middle of this life plot climax, the doctors are talking about denouement and I want to say NO NO NO YOU’VE GOT IT WRONG – THIS IS A THREE ACT PLAY! So. That’s my prayer, my lovely F. By gum, you’re getting a third act. You are getting a third act. You are getting a third act.