I felt relief. I felt hope. I felt grateful.
June
21, 2012
I read the script for The Year of
Magical Thinking during a work day.
We had just learned that we would be producing the play for our 2012
Season and I was eager to see what it was about. I was riveted immediately. Joan Didon’s words resonated with me in such
a way that I found myself silently weeping at my desk. I wasn’t weeping because I was sad. I wept because her words somehow captured a
feeling in my heart that I had been unable to fully express for quite some
time. I felt relief. I felt hope.
I felt grateful. Her play
reminded me of why I fell in love with theater in the first place.
As a child, I had thought I would grow up to become a pediatrician. I wanted to be like my Grandfather and take care of children. My mother, on the other hand, always knew that I was going to be in the arts. Maybe it was the constant singing or use of accents that tipped her off. She used to tell me I spoke with a French accent when I was 3 years old. We’re not French. I digress.
By
Nikki Rowell
Patron
Services Manager
![]() |
| Nikki Rowell Photo by Kat Gloor |
As a child, I had thought I would grow up to become a pediatrician. I wanted to be like my Grandfather and take care of children. My mother, on the other hand, always knew that I was going to be in the arts. Maybe it was the constant singing or use of accents that tipped her off. She used to tell me I spoke with a French accent when I was 3 years old. We’re not French. I digress.
As was often the case, my mother was right. I fell in love with theater and have firmly
planted myself in this work for the past 10 years. I like to think that made her happy.
When I was 23, I lost my mother to breast cancer. In the first moments of shock and grief, I
wanted desperately for the world to stop.
To just pause for one second and recognize that she was no longer with
us. But the world kept moving. Life goes on.
I tell you this because when I read The Year of Magical Thinking, I felt like Joan Didion had given me
permission somehow to take that pause. And
not only take a pause, but be able to experience this with other human
beings. Watching a play like this
reminds us that even if the subject matter may seem difficult, we are not
alone. We are not alone in our
grief. That realization is beautiful and
what makes theater different from any other form of entertainment.
And so I look forward to giving myself permission to
pause for a moment and watch The Year of
Magical Thinking. And I’ll appreciate the words that Joan Didion
has written. For her husband. For my mother. For me.
For all of us.
Labels: Joan Didion, Mark Lamos, Maureen Anderman, National Book Award, Nicholas Martin, Non-Profit, Plays, The Year of Magical Thinking, Theater, Theatre, Westport, Westport Country Playhouse




0 Comments:
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home