Ever since the
fourth grade, I’ve been on a stage of some sort. In fourth grade, my older
brother, Jack, was in the musical “Bye Bye Birdie” in his high school. They needed a “kid” to play Randolph McAfee,
a part that was my brother’s son. I got
to sing two solos and I have to tell you, I was bit hard by the acting
thingy. Loved it.
Singing has
always been a big part of my life all the way through the years. In fifth grade, I was selected to perform
with four of my classmates in a barbershop quartet, billed as the “Wee Four
Quartet.” Dressed in our different
colored vests, white shirts and bow ties complete with a straw hat, I have to
say we were stylin’. Well, stylin’ for fifth graders, anyway.
In sixth grade,
I formed my own band. Yeah, we were
pretty not so awfully good. But, it did
get me noticed by a group of older guys who asked me to play drums and sing for
them, so I did that for two years.
Mostly a Top Forty cover band, we had a lot of gigs, entered contests,
that sort of thing. Fun times. Great times.
And great memories.
Continued on
into high school. Plays. Musicals.
Choirs. Solo stuff. Eventually a couple of commercials. Weddings and funerals. It didn’t matter to me because I did what I
did and loved it.
One time towards
the end of my senior year, I performed as a front act on a benefit show. Six songs with my accompanist- a great
guitarist. It was towards the end of the
first song when I noticed a middle-aged woman in the first row trying to get my
attention subtly, quietly, without too many people noticing her. Had no idea what she was doing or why she was
doing it until I took a bow at the end of the song. Bright spotlight. One of two guys on stage. Dark slacks.
And my fly wide open with five more songs to go. Hmmm . . . yup!
Life Really Is A
Stage. Our Stage. A stage to make and create as we see
fit. Some of the props are ours, while
some props are handed to us, given to us without our asking, without our
wanting, without a chance to say, “No thanks!
I’d rather not!”
And while on
that stage, while using those props, we build our own one act play. Our Life.
We live it. We speak it. We act it out. It’s ours and ours alone. We share it.
We might try to hide it.
Sometimes we recreate the dialogue, the actions and the costumes. Other times, we borrow or create and craft
the dialogue and actions and costumes to fit what we are and do now.
But ultimately,
it is our stage and our one act play.
While there might be other characters . . . a wife, a child or two, a
boy or girl friend, other family members, friends, acquaintances . . . what we
do on that stage is our choice, our life, our one act play. Through happy times. Exciting times. Difficult times. Sad times.
All times in between. Some new
experiences, some older experiences, but ours nonetheless. All ours.
Life Really Is A
Stage. And, we hold that stage . . . our
stage . . . for as long as we live.
Some, like my mom a long time- 99 years-, while others of us shorter,
much shorter, or maybe one or two of us, longer. We never know when we will step off that
stage. Tragically. Dramatically.
Sympathetically. Heroically. Silently.
Eventually, each of us will step off that stage.
So, it is a
matter what we do while we’re on that stage that counts. Do we perform to the best of our ability, or
do we perform with mediocrity? Do we
perform with gusto and enthusiasm, or do we perform lethargically and lackadaisically?
Do we write the script, or do we allow others to dictate what we say and how we
say it? Do we act out our own one act
play as the actor and director, or do we dance to someone else’s tune and act
by someone else’s directorial style? It is a choice how we act, what we say,
how we perform. Our choice. Ours alone.
Something to think about . . .
Live Your Life,
and Make A Difference!