19 June 2016

Prompt: 2

‘That summer…’ was new. I’d never worked anywhere, well, except in school, school and study had always been my summer work and I’d never worked in any theatre. I did not know what an apprentice was. I just knew an apprentice was exotic, my sisters lover Shev would be there and I did not know my brother would show up after he and his x-country traveling buddy discovered they didn’t like harvesting potatoes in an Idaho field.
It was all pretty improvisational and I was 16 and I didn’t have to worry about working for money. Money was nothing. My parents still funded me. I did have to work, that’s what a theatre apprentice did, for all I know still does, all for no pay, but instead for the thrill of being immersed and marinated in the stew of 1-week summer stock theatre, this just happening to be in the Catskill mountains of upstate New York in a village named Woodstock.
To say I was naïve, an ingénue, though, by definition, males are not ingénues, wow, that word's  archaic, understates my being. But chaos and libertinism were normal conditions and being so did not seem without boundaries and somehow seemed to add to our quasi-focused creativity. I think the purpose of theatre being at all, the control, now, for all of us, then, was to immerse ourselves into our stage part and purpose as profound grounding and relief from what existed off the stage and beyond the playhouse. I could not articulate any of this, at all, in 1967. I just was being for the first time outside of school, study, reading, exercise, and eating.

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