It was not until 7th grade that i returned to Broadway. This time led by Mr. Scala, my favorite teacher of social studies. He brought the class to a matinee performance of "The Miracle Worker". I did not know then that i would fall in love. The principle actors were Ann Bancroft who played Ms. Sullivan and Patty Duke who played Helen. We were sitting in the second row. I recall a scene were patty slides the edge of the stage. I could see here eyes clearly. the anguish that she portrayed was real. My eyes met hers and I fell in love. I'm sure it was not reciprocal! But i did not only have a pubescent love of Miss Duke but I started a love of live theater. In the high school years to come i was fortunate to be able to see first hand and first run such great performances of "the fiddler on the roof" and "jesus Christ superstar" to name two.
in my 20 and 30's while in the Army i was active in "little theater productions, doing the "odd couple", "Plaza suite", the "diary of ann frank", "our town" and "12 Angry men". My last performance was before we left Germany. I played multiple parts (a truck driver, a preacher and a tree) in an avant garde play entitled "the Rimers of Eldritch". we were fortunate to win the Eurcom recognition of best play, best production. best cast.
So in honor of Shakespear i end with:
All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
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