Blank Stage, Blank Page

So ... The Poptimists is now another line on the resume, a binder in my collective works, and a footnote in San Jose theater.

Striking the show is always an odd feeling. Physically taking the show apart, folding it and putting it away in storage is an incredibly literal metaphor for closure.

It was a very quick strike (less than an hour) and when we were done, all that was left was the clean, barren stage, freshly painted and ready for the next collection of creative ideas and artists. Like we'd never even been there

But that also is the magic of theater. The stage remains, waiting for the next band of gypsies to build, paint, rehearse, argue, praise, triumph, fail, succeed and enjoy their efforts.

As for this journey, it was a long one for being so short. I started writing the show in March and now it's over in December. Some writers wait years, decades to see their work produced. Some never get the chance at all.

I have to remind myself of that from time to time when I get overwhelmed in the details of producing a work. I don't enjoy it as much as I should when I'm concerned with so many other things about producing the show.

Once we opened The Poptimists, I actually did get to sit back and enjoy it most of the time. I got to stay in the moment and not worry about getting this or that, or making sure this happens, or that person has everything. (Having amazing stage managers will do that for you ... I've tried to avoid naming names in this entire little online enterprise, but I must thank Richard Cartwright and Marilyn Vaillancourt for their unwavering support, earth-moving efforts, and warm friendship. They have meant and do mean the world to me.)

And the show was short enough so I could stand in the back of the house and watch every moment of every performance, taking mental notes on how to improve a lyric here, a line there and some of the staging for future productions.

I'm very proud of my young cast and seasoned crew. So many wonderful people working so hard to put on something I wrote. (It still amazes me that people will do that.) And now a bunch of new friends from a new generation, too. I get to add them to my already wonderful collection of close, long-time friends. I had to dust off the old middle-aged brain and learn to be a little crazy again on a different level.

I never really went out much and "partied" with the cast, but we had so much fun during rehearsals, that I felt I had. The final cast party and the dinner before our closing performance was the most time I spent with them (collectively) outside of the show. Sometimes the cast needs to go out and be able to talk about the progress of the show without the director (and writer) being there and inadvertently inhibiting the conversation.

All just really wonderful people.

And at the informal cast party, as I sat off to the side in the large papa-san chair in the living room of the apartment for our last time together, I watched and listened to them having so much fun, energetic fun, and I smiled as I flashed back to the years when I was in the middle of that kind of group who was laughing so hard, singing current Broadway tunes, popular songs and just enjoying being a cast together.

And I realized that yes, I have become jaded and cynical in some ways ... but I can still make just about anybody laugh.

And The Poptimists did that for a lot of people.

And it's still a good feeling.