Story 8: The spice of life

Picture it. Virginia, 2005. The early days of autumn are here. A young man has been performing in the ensemble of a community theatre production of Disney’s Beauty and the Beast. The troupe has been rehearsing since May, and the young man, who used to love rehearsing and performing, is losing his passion for the theatrical life. Playing larger roles was easier than this, and one could tell right away whether your performance was disdainful or worthy or recognition.

So, my coworker, a fellow musical-lover, decided to bring her husband to my performance last Saturday. Immediately after the performance, I changed out of costume and ran to greet her and her husband, not knowing if they would be waiting in the lobby. I found them among the many fans, friends and family of other cast members, and stroke up some conversation.
During our chat, a boy, perhaps 8 years old at most, walks up to me and says, “Excuse me, can I have your autograph? Were you the pepper?”

I play the village milkman and the Beast’s enchanted pepper shaker. And, as pepper, I have no speaking lines. But as milkman, I have several short, small, miniscule solo parts of songs. The first question would be why he would recognize my performance in such a small ensemble role. The second question would be why he would recognize my silent part as the pepper shaker first and not have me be his favorite milkman. But I digress…

I look at the boy, whose head is at the level of my waist, and replied after a short laugh, “Who told you to come over here?” Seriously, I look around and see the actors playing Belle, the Beast, Cogsworth, and Gaston all around the lobby. Gaston is on his cellular phone. I thought someone was playing a joke on me.

“I just want your autograph.” The boy hands over his program and a pen. I signed at the very bottom of the first inside page. I figured he must be intending on collecting more signatures, and I did not want mine getting in the way of more prominent and prestigious characters. “There you go, hope you enjoyed the show, have a good night.” I hand him back his pen and program. Expecting him to ask one of the main characters standing and talking in the lobby for an autograph, my coworker and I watch him scurry straight out the lobby doors to a waiting parent. He ran out and was yelling, “I got Pepper’s autograph! I got Pepper’s autograph!”

Obviously, the kid must have been crazy, but crazy people are just part of the mix. And, variety IS the spice of life.

Story 7: All grown up

Picture it. Nebraska, Labour Day weekend, 2005. A young man ventures to his childhood stomping grounds near Omaha to attend the wedding of a family friend.
I was expecting Korean food at the reception and I was slightly disappointed. It was Italian. It was wrong of me to assume that the groom, being half Korean like me, would choose to serve Korean food at his reception. I, however, would not even pause to consider what food I would be serving. I believe that the reason I needed Korean cuisine at that moment had everything to do with nostalgia and longing for our large house parties with lots of food. I cannot remember my family having our large parties since leaving Nebraska over ten, wait, fifteen years ago. Why did I need some comfort food? The groom, a year younger than me, found his mate. The groom, a childhood playmate and “cousin” was an adult at the next stage of life. Unfortunately or fortunately, when my cohorts go through their rites of passage, I follow along with them, figuratively or vicariously, and I must recognize that I am older and time is passing quickly.

The other significant part about growing and returning to one’s small town roots, is how everything looks smaller. The houses, the malls, the steps, the big brothers and high school football and baseball players who were larger-than-life role models now balding and shorter.

Either way, it was comical watching the Korean members of the large wedding crowd queue for the Italian buffet.