Friday, January 12, 2007

How A Few Words Can Change Everything

This post probably won't mean very much to people who haven't seen The Big Voice, but last night something happened that was totally unexpected. First of all, we had a wonderfully responsive audience. There's nothing like doing a show where everyone is totally into it, laughing at all the punchlines and throwing energy up to the stage. (It's the quiet matinees where an older crowd is studying you rather than jumping into the fray that drive me a bit nuts).

So, last night, I found a key to a song that has been troubling me from day one. It was precipitated by the fact that Mike Jones, the man who outed Ted Haggard (the closeted anti-gay evangelical minister who was seeing male hustlers while denouncing gay marriage) in the last election, is coming to see the show on Sunday night. Mike and I have been emailing back and forth. (Really sweet guy.)

I told him that I really appreciated what he did, putting his reputation and livelihood on the line to fight the good fight, and that, if things had turned out differently, *I* could have been Ted Haggard -- married, gay, looking for sex on the side, preaching from a pulpit.

In Big Voice, at the end of the play, we describe a scene with an anti-gay protester. Then, after a bit of a comical confrontation, I sing "Sower and Scarecrow." For some reason, getting into that song has been troubling me from Day One. I've always believed in the song, and believe very strongly in its message. But the transition into it always felt awkward, like something was missing.

Then, a couple of nights ago, after my email exchange with Mike, it hit me right between the eyes. A line a dialogue. Just a few words. I didn't say them at the time because I wanted to consult with Jim first. The next day, I told him what I wanted to say and he said, "Try it."

So, I got to that point, where I look over at "my old roommate" standing there holding a protest sign -- "Lesbians Are Satan's Whores" -- and I said, "I suddenly realized, that could have been me..."

Boom. All this emotion of sadness (for him), relief (for me) and just plain realization came welling up from within and suddenly it was a brand new song. I sang it differently. I played it differently. I felt it differently. And, for the first time, I really felt the audience totally connect. It was no longer a sermon delivered to someone "out there," but an illumination of what could have been. (I think it also helped move the audience, too, because we got two curtain calls last night).

Later, after the show, we were out with friends, and I told Amy, "I wonder if being gay is what saved me from that life?" If I hadn't been given this gift of my own sexual orientation, I might have been some variation on that guy. Maybe not with the signs, but who knows?

9 comments:

Anonymous said...

I think you're very right. Had I kept on in the life in which I'd been raised, I'd believe being gay is wrong, I'd have been VERY active in a fundamentalist church and against...well, against everything for which I now currently stand.
So, yeah. Thanks, God, for making me a 'mo!

JoyZeeBoy said...

Yup. We're all just one twist of fate away from being something hideous.

It took being gay AND alcoholic for me to come back to an active belief in a Power Greater than myself.

A Power that is NOT the hateful SOB that I was brought up to believe in.

Steve Schalchlin said...

Eric, thanks for the comment. Just cruised over to your blog. Very nice! I will add you to my blogroll.

Steve Schalchlin said...

Eric, thanks for the comment. Just cruised over to your blog. Very nice! I will add you to my blogroll.

spork said...

You know, I always heard "that could have been me" implied in that song, even on the CD. That's the main reason I love that song... the compassion and almost mourning for that guy, growing from the knowledge that yeah, that could have been you.

Steve Schalchlin said...

rk, Amy pointed last night, too, that it comes after Jim's speech about how we start out as one thing and then end up as the thing we were meant to be. So, yeah, I agree that it was always implied, but somehow, saying it out loud, just drove it home in a new way for me.

The other thing it did was give me a new performance on the song. Whereas before, I was entering a little hesitantly and keeping the same tone, this time I began softly and gradually built it up, increasing the volume as I felt myself gaining strength from the realization. It was really something to experience. I am learning so much about "acting." That, as they say, it's really not about acting, but about digging in deeper into yourself.

When we got back to the dressing room, I told Jim I was having a real moment there and had to sit down at my dressing table for a few moments to recover. That was powerful for me -- especially after hundreds of performances of this show. It never seems to get old.

Amy Lynn said...

It's not the show that's getting old, it's just you, honey :)

Anonymous said...

very sweet, Steve... yeah, the couple words in the show make that layer real.

Anonymous said...

Amen, Steve. I've long felt that were it not for the crisis of faith being gay presented me I might never have seen fundamentalism for what it really is. Or escaped it.

And I think I know what you mean about the difference a few right words make. I keep looking for them all the time with my first graders...

peace man!
Brian