Why I have a degree in theatre.

If you have participated in the performing arts, you have probably experienced the gigantic sigh of relief, exhaustion and nostalgia that is the Monday after closing. Even when I thought I would be relieved to see a show go on Sunday night (or I can't wait to get "We welcome you to Munchkinland, tralalalalalalalala" OUT OF MY HEAD), by Monday afternoon I miss it.

For the last two weeks, I have had the immeasurable pleasure of putting up a show with a bunch of elementary, high school and college students. I say pleasure because, despite wanting to strangle sundry little necks when the children would not be silent backstage (and 13-hour work days), there was enough laughter, joy, and good work that made the frustration worth it.  The worst part about this job is that I fell in love with it, and in five weeks it will be over for real.

I love that about theatre. Three weeks ago, I knew I would be working with three college friends at a local youth theatre for the summer. It was just a job. Today, I have fifty-trillion new best friends that I will genuinely miss come August. Theatre people (the good ones, at least) are just that way. They can be insta-friends because they get each other. If you're those people, you know what I'm saying. The theatre world is special that way, isn't it? It is never just a job. Creating art together forges a bond that makes you miss the rest of the company the Monday after closing. It makes each show special.

That's why I have a theatre degree. Because I want my work hours to be put towards making something beautiful with other slightly strange, loud, goofy people that will (just maybe) change the world.

My dad, who is a star.

One of my favorite things to do whenever I am home for a few days is to have a friend or two over for dinner with my family. Usually, my sister will invite her boyfriend, my brother his girlfriend, and my mom will call her sister, the neighbor, and whomever else might possibly want to join. This means that, within about an hour, my family has created a 12-person impromptu dinner party that usually includes dancing around the kitchen to the inspiring sounds of cha-cha music. It is moments like this that I am so thankful for the stellar individuals that are my parents. As a pair, they have created a family and household that is always ready to welcome, play and share life with friends.

As those who has participated in Wilson Family Dinners will know, Papa Wilson likes to begin or end all meals with a question he puts to the whole table to answer. Sometimes the questions have a theme, like on holidays or other special occasions. I have been told that some people, fully aware that a question will be coming, prepare in advance so as to give a praise-worthy answer.

Today has been dubbed by Hallmark as the day to celebrate fathers. So, since I'm not sitting around the Sunday lunch table with the fam talking about our high-lows or favorite childhood memory, here is a tribute to the guy who cha-chas around the kitchen like a pro. Love ya, Dad. :)

A Father's Day Haiku:


Bad eyes and acne,
Love for Bing, fear of the phone.
Things I got from you.

Chicken nuggets.

Those that know me well had to have known I would not be able to get very far into this blogging experience without talking about my favorite thing. Which is adorable babies. And by babies I definitely mean anyone under the age of 7, though I have learned to not call them babies to their face because they get incredibly offended (most of them are older siblings to actual infants).  Children are the coolest. They are so easily delighted, so quick to befriend anyone they meet, and so expressive.

This last week I spent four hours a day hanging out with (and wrangling and shushing) 50 little nuggets between the ages of 4 and 7 at a local theatre camp. Let's be real, there is nothing more entertaining than a five-year-old with a flair for the performing arts. For example:

• I handed a little camper her script, told her what it was, and she immediately informed me (in a business-like tone): "But I can't read."  

• Throughout the week, the staff followed the always dramatic and at times contradicting love story of Angel Face and her Romeo. Sometimes she loved him, sometimes she literally ran away, but those two stuck together like glue for most of the week. It was hysterical, precious, and a solid reminder that some things, like fickle hearts and relationship drama, never change.

• There was a redhead who showed up as Rogue (complete with gloves) for super hero day.

• When asked to show the staff special talents (ie: cartwheels, splits, spins), one kid came to the center of the room and struck a pose. That was it. "I look good," he said. "That's my special skill."

• One of the youngest campers was the Pre-K version of Sutton Foster and my sister combined. Or, the cutest child ever. I never had a clue what she was saying, but it was okay because she was just that adorable.

• I caught one little girl who was away from the rest of her group, playing in the curtains backstage and poking her head out to look at the audience. I swiftly walked over and asked her to find her team, but she very calmly said "No, no. I'm standing by for my next scene." What. A. Star.

True to form, I teared up a little during the last song as I stood backstage and watched everyone take a bow. A week of exhaustion, minor frustration and total insanity seemed absolutely worth it when my favorite little campers ran over to hug goodbye. I can only hope I am able to find jobs working with kids for the rest of my life. Sure they're a mess, but they are precious little reminders to busy adults that it's okay to be amazed. It's okay to not know the answer. And, maybe most importantly, it's okay to believe wholeheartedly in the impossible.