One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest.....

Happy Fathers' Day, to all fathers everywhere. And I do  mean everywhere.....I woke up feeling grateful instead of sad, thinking about Fathers' Days past and good memories. I tried to practice that attitude of gratitude all day long, but by late afternoon it was black dogs barking.

I miss my dad and that's all there is to it. I tried to turn it around, but my mind kept coming back to what other people were doing with their dads, with wanting to be with my dad. So I got my Irish up and I lashed out at someone I care about. I sat in my house in the dark and I felt sorry for myself. Then I started thinking about what I might be doing if my dad was around, really considering it instead of just feeling like shit that it wasn't gonna happen.

So I decided to watch one of our favorite movies, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. I only picked it because it's great cinema, I already owned it, and I knew it would bring me back to the first time I watched it. Watching McMurphy play basketball with the Chief reminded me of one of my dad's headshots, of his spot-on Nicholson impression, of how he could detail every character actor and all of the director's choices.

The movie reminded me of my dad, which made me feel better, and it also reminded me of how I don't want to go down any dark paths. One of Greg's favorite lines in the movie is when McMurphy says, "Well, I tried, goddamn it. At least give me that." Tonight, I didn't feel like trying. I felt like following the black dogs barking right down into a miserable hole.  But without being around, Greg didn't let it happen.

It's almost like a kind of time travel: 15 years ago, Greg showed me a movie so that I'd have something to return to by myself, when I needed it. I need to remember that he gave me the tools, the gifts, the love that I need to survive on my own. (I mean, writing is another one- check out this blog.) I don't need more of the same (even if I'll always want it, and badly)- I already have it. It's okay to miss him and to have a shitty couple of hours. Clouds pass over, my mood darkens, a storm comes. But I'll come out the other side. 

"Which one of you nuts has got any guts?"

Happy Fathers' Day, Greg- with love and laughter- and a lot of guts.

Theatrical Therapy

Last night, it was with a full heart that I flopped on the couch and rolled over to stare at the cushions up close. I wanted to get up and write, but it was all a little too fresh and I needed to let it roll around inside me for awhile.

EP Foster 4th Grade had their first major theatrical production last night, a stirring rendition of "Gold Dust or Bust!" It was a short run, with two matinees and a single night performance, but the audiences were robust and the performers put their backs into it. I felt so close to my dad this past month as we've been rehearsing and preparing.

I even channeled my dad a time or two, when the kids would get frustrated with themselves, or with me, and I'd find myself using one of Greg's lines. About a thousand years ago when I was a freshman in high school, they were casting "Rebel Without a Cause" for the school play. I desperately wanted to play Judy, so I came home with my script and found myself whining to Greg, "But they never cast a freshman in the best role- it always goes to a senior!" He said he would coach me, and the first afternoon I cried with frustration and slouched around his office, until he said: "Do you want me to be nice to you, or do you want to get the part?"

I got the part.

I think it's dirty to take credit for someone else's work, so I'll only say that I brought out something those kids already had inside them, but we worked and sweated, and when they got scared I reassured them, and when they got nervous I encouraged them, and when they got frustrated I said, "Do you want me to be nice to you, or do you want to put on a good show?"

They put on a good show.

Not just a good show, they were goddamn stars. Kids that are reading two grade levels below where they ought to be were belting out complicated lyrics, and two of my girls carried the show with grace and comedic timing. Sure, it wasn't perfect, but even the flubs were charming because it was so clear how much fun they were having, how confident they felt.

I'm so grateful for another opportunity, another way to connect to my dad, to remember what mattered to him and his skills and his talents. When I was in college I dipped my toe into directing exactly once, "Crimes of the Heart," and even though I called Greg constantly for advice and to vent, I didn't let him come to a single show. I was afraid the show was going to be bad. How fucking dumb was that? I would have given just about anything for him to have come to any one of the productions of "Gold Dust or Bust!"

Last Friday morning I was driving to school, and on the radio they mentioned it was June 1st, Greg's sober birthday. And I burst into tears behind the wheel- that hasn't happened in a long time. I just missed my dad. I got to school, washed my face, picked up the kids, and cued up the music. And we sung our goddamn hearts out.

Oh Daddy, thank you for all your gifts I carry inside....