We were all arriving at work for a heavy load-in week at Wayside Theatre, when the news of the tragic events of 9/11 began trickling in. Instead of our frantic schedule we all sat around and listened to the radio for what seemed like an eternity. Even when we returned to work later in the day, every thing was different. I let the actors make the call as to whether they wanted to rehearse that night or not. They did want to rehearse, but it was strangely different rehearsing that comedy that night.
Remembering those eerie and terrible hours today, thinking of the utter silliness that now swirls around a TV docudrama, and still basking in the glow of the response to our production of Othello on opening night last night, I often wonder when the real writers, those who write for the theatre, will begin to unfold the stories, emotions, and transformation of that day. We almost postponed that opening in that horrific week, but went ahead, trying in our little corner of the world to preserve some sense of normality and continuity.
