Memorizing Lines

I often wonder if I’m losing my mind.

Nothing dramatic has happened, but I took on a project not understanding it was going to challenge my limited ability to be spontaneous, creative, and at ease with myself.

A few weeks ago I decided to join a group who would write a personal life changing story and turn it into a seven-minute solo performance. That sounded like something interesting to do, until I came face to face with actually playing myself and other characters that exist only in my mind. That’s when things became a bit more stomach retching…like hugging the commode retching.

I’ll celebrate my 83rd birthday in a couple of weeks and I had not tried to memorize anything in the past 70 years. Even at 13, I wasn’t great at reciting the Lord’s Prayer, much less seven minutes of my life.

Then the challenge became greater when the director of this proposed entertaining show had us add other voices to the plot. It was not just adding the voices, but using a different voice, a different pose, a different persona. In other words, ACT.

This was a new experience for me. I can tell a story, write a story, believe a story, but to act out that story was daunting and admittedly terrifying.

Making a speech can be unnerving, but getting on a stage by yourself in front of people who have paid to be entertained and remember seven minutes of dialogue along with the mannerisms and voices of others…now folks, that will make my knees shake, my hair fall out, and my dogs cringe as I practice lines and say naughty words when I don’t remember the correct verbiage.

I remember my sister was in an award winning high school play and I marveled at her ability to remember what she was to say, where she was to be on the stage, how she was to look. This was way beyond my skill set even at 17.

Fast forward 66 years and I have not added to those skills. This was something I did not want to complete, but my pride wouldn’t let me duck out. Surely if six other people could do it, so could I. Our production was last night, and I must say I’m relieved to have survived the sound of sweat running from my arm pits and falling on the stage, drop by drop by drop, the sleepless nights, the loss of hair, and my dogs spending nights on the patio to keep from being audibly abused with my rantings.

How do pros do this? No idea, but I do admire their ability and courageous fortitude to stay on stage when the curtain opens and they expose themselves and their talent to the world.

I’ve had about all the exposure I can stand, and probably the audience from last night has too.

Another first and perhaps last exciting and petrifying event to write home about.