In Which Role Did Life Cast You?
When I first walked in, the possibilities were endless. The hardest part was over. I had finally decided to try out and here I was, waiting to read through different parts in my audition!
I paged through my script, excited to see what different character I might become.
“Maria, I want you to read Eula, OK? And Olivia, you can read Katie, the bride.”
Eula. That sounded promising. She was a mother but she had some thoughtful lines. I couldn’t quite manage the country accent though. However, I read with expression, looking ahead to make sure I pronounced everything correctly. When I reached the end of that scene, Mrs. T. interjected again.
“Now, let’s read Scene Three. Maria, you can read Audrey, and Olivia, you can read Katie’s part again.”
Audrey. What an elegant name! But sounds were deceptive. Audrey was the villain, a real snobby sort, convinced a backwoods girl like Katie would never be good enough to marry Audrey’s son. I played the part to the hilt, even though it was just a reading, getting laughs from the rest of the people trying out. I enjoyed reading Audrey and waited to hear how we would switch up parts in the next scene.
“OK, Maria, you read Eula again, Olivia read Katie, and Duane, I want you to read Jasper.”
Eula again. We read our parts and as I read, I realized. Mrs. T. was only considering me as one of the mothers. The starring role, Katie, the bride in “Who Dun Stole the Bride?” was going to Olivia.
At first, I wondered why I couldn’t at least read Katie’s part and then, with a start of surprise, I realized … she thinks I am too old. I am old now. Until that moment, it hadn’t occurred to me that I couldn’t be any part, play anyone. Sure, Katie was supposed to be 18 but for years people had always said how young I looked.
I hadn’t realized time had passed me by and that, in a play like this, the only part seen to fit someone like me were the parts for older ladies, for moms. I wasn’t the type to get a part as a beautiful love interest with two male characters vying for my hand. No, those days had apparently already passed me by.
It was a startling shock to me, sitting there, gamely reading Eula. I looked at Olivia and suddenly saw myself through Mrs. T.’s eyes. I was older. I didn’t have Olivia’s graceful figure or smooth, clear face. Why had I not realized this before?
Two weeks later, I learned I had been cast as Audrey. It was fun to play the villain. Audrey believes she is elegant and lovely but she is actually a rather pathetic caricature, a woman who desperately wants to believe her opinions are valued as her children become adults and grow away from her.
My character received many laughs while Olivia’s received smiles and sighs. She was the one the boy playing Bob chased around the stage, trying to kiss her.
In an ironic twist of fate, Olivia actually embodied the girl I used to be. Wardrobe needed a wedding gown for Katie to wear and I offered mine.
I watched her smiling, holding hands with her pretend groom, repeating those vows I knew so well. My outpouring of emotion wasn’t quite as faked as Mrs. T. had told me it should be. It wasn’t hard to tear up watching Katie smile at her groom as I mused on memories. My character was supposed to cry for her dead husband but, that night, I cried for my dead youth.
Audrey was fun. I received many compliments and even a few fake scoldings from some older people who mistook my character for me. How could I be so cruel to a young couple in love? But cruel I was, snobby, prissy, and unyielding, turning up my nose at every gesture of friendship from “my” son’s future in-laws. Snobby and a little sad.
Opening night, though, dismayed at how my make-up worked to age me, I still felt lovely in my formal dress until I received this email from a friend, kindly meant I am sure.
He wrote:
“I enjoyed looking at the photos from your play. You remind me of a matronly school teacher I had as a child.”
Matronly? And I thought I had looked beautiful! Oh how enlightening to see yourself through another's eyes!
I saw Olivia in the store last week. I said hi and asked about her life now that the play is over. She smiled and spoke of her boyfriend, her prom and where she plans to go to college.
We parted with a smile but I had to force myself to walk away. Even as I exited the store, I had a strong impulse to run back, to softly murmur, “Always make time for theater, OK? Try out for all the girlish parts. Play every love interest you can find. Life passes so fast. Before you know it, you too, will be cast as a mom. When that day comes, you’ll want those memories of being young and wanted, of knowing you can play any part in the book. Age creeps up on tiptoeing feet, draping you in wrinkles so lightly that your mirror will surprise you. Someday you, too, might watch another wear the wedding dress you cannot fit in anymore.”
But I didn’t run back and I didn’t whisper. I quietly walked out the door. Youth cannot hear the wisdom of the aged. Their eyes are fixed on the present, not the shadows that wait down their roads. This focus is what makes their eyes shine so brightly and keeps their foreheads soft and smooth.
I walked away, leaving her illusions intact. She can keep smiling, dancing, running from the boys who long and dream of just one kiss. And I will quietly take my place to the side, the contrast to her beauty and the background to her smile. My aging face makes her more beautiful and perhaps that is now my role in life. A contrast, a reminder, a backdrop so that she can shine.
I now see where life has cast me and I’ll make this character unforgettable. I don’t have to fuss as much with being beautiful and now, with nothing to lose, I can dare to go for the laugh, make myself the fool, and know that sometimes people may finally hear what I say. My looks are not a distraction and perhaps that is something freeing to rejoice in rather than to weep over, as I did as old Audrey at the wedding that day.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
If interested, here are the photos of me “looking matronly.” I am in a black suit at the beginning and later change into a long, light blue dress:
http://www.tnphotoman.com/Churches/Who-Stole-the-Bride/13842453_4tgzG#1014514722_SqG6T
I paged through my script, excited to see what different character I might become.
“Maria, I want you to read Eula, OK? And Olivia, you can read Katie, the bride.”
Eula. That sounded promising. She was a mother but she had some thoughtful lines. I couldn’t quite manage the country accent though. However, I read with expression, looking ahead to make sure I pronounced everything correctly. When I reached the end of that scene, Mrs. T. interjected again.
“Now, let’s read Scene Three. Maria, you can read Audrey, and Olivia, you can read Katie’s part again.”
Audrey. What an elegant name! But sounds were deceptive. Audrey was the villain, a real snobby sort, convinced a backwoods girl like Katie would never be good enough to marry Audrey’s son. I played the part to the hilt, even though it was just a reading, getting laughs from the rest of the people trying out. I enjoyed reading Audrey and waited to hear how we would switch up parts in the next scene.
“OK, Maria, you read Eula again, Olivia read Katie, and Duane, I want you to read Jasper.”
Eula again. We read our parts and as I read, I realized. Mrs. T. was only considering me as one of the mothers. The starring role, Katie, the bride in “Who Dun Stole the Bride?” was going to Olivia.
At first, I wondered why I couldn’t at least read Katie’s part and then, with a start of surprise, I realized … she thinks I am too old. I am old now. Until that moment, it hadn’t occurred to me that I couldn’t be any part, play anyone. Sure, Katie was supposed to be 18 but for years people had always said how young I looked.
I hadn’t realized time had passed me by and that, in a play like this, the only part seen to fit someone like me were the parts for older ladies, for moms. I wasn’t the type to get a part as a beautiful love interest with two male characters vying for my hand. No, those days had apparently already passed me by.
It was a startling shock to me, sitting there, gamely reading Eula. I looked at Olivia and suddenly saw myself through Mrs. T.’s eyes. I was older. I didn’t have Olivia’s graceful figure or smooth, clear face. Why had I not realized this before?
Two weeks later, I learned I had been cast as Audrey. It was fun to play the villain. Audrey believes she is elegant and lovely but she is actually a rather pathetic caricature, a woman who desperately wants to believe her opinions are valued as her children become adults and grow away from her.
My character received many laughs while Olivia’s received smiles and sighs. She was the one the boy playing Bob chased around the stage, trying to kiss her.
In an ironic twist of fate, Olivia actually embodied the girl I used to be. Wardrobe needed a wedding gown for Katie to wear and I offered mine.
I watched her smiling, holding hands with her pretend groom, repeating those vows I knew so well. My outpouring of emotion wasn’t quite as faked as Mrs. T. had told me it should be. It wasn’t hard to tear up watching Katie smile at her groom as I mused on memories. My character was supposed to cry for her dead husband but, that night, I cried for my dead youth.
Audrey was fun. I received many compliments and even a few fake scoldings from some older people who mistook my character for me. How could I be so cruel to a young couple in love? But cruel I was, snobby, prissy, and unyielding, turning up my nose at every gesture of friendship from “my” son’s future in-laws. Snobby and a little sad.
Opening night, though, dismayed at how my make-up worked to age me, I still felt lovely in my formal dress until I received this email from a friend, kindly meant I am sure.
He wrote:
“I enjoyed looking at the photos from your play. You remind me of a matronly school teacher I had as a child.”
Matronly? And I thought I had looked beautiful! Oh how enlightening to see yourself through another's eyes!
I saw Olivia in the store last week. I said hi and asked about her life now that the play is over. She smiled and spoke of her boyfriend, her prom and where she plans to go to college.
We parted with a smile but I had to force myself to walk away. Even as I exited the store, I had a strong impulse to run back, to softly murmur, “Always make time for theater, OK? Try out for all the girlish parts. Play every love interest you can find. Life passes so fast. Before you know it, you too, will be cast as a mom. When that day comes, you’ll want those memories of being young and wanted, of knowing you can play any part in the book. Age creeps up on tiptoeing feet, draping you in wrinkles so lightly that your mirror will surprise you. Someday you, too, might watch another wear the wedding dress you cannot fit in anymore.”
But I didn’t run back and I didn’t whisper. I quietly walked out the door. Youth cannot hear the wisdom of the aged. Their eyes are fixed on the present, not the shadows that wait down their roads. This focus is what makes their eyes shine so brightly and keeps their foreheads soft and smooth.
I walked away, leaving her illusions intact. She can keep smiling, dancing, running from the boys who long and dream of just one kiss. And I will quietly take my place to the side, the contrast to her beauty and the background to her smile. My aging face makes her more beautiful and perhaps that is now my role in life. A contrast, a reminder, a backdrop so that she can shine.
I now see where life has cast me and I’ll make this character unforgettable. I don’t have to fuss as much with being beautiful and now, with nothing to lose, I can dare to go for the laugh, make myself the fool, and know that sometimes people may finally hear what I say. My looks are not a distraction and perhaps that is something freeing to rejoice in rather than to weep over, as I did as old Audrey at the wedding that day.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
If interested, here are the photos of me “looking matronly.” I am in a black suit at the beginning and later change into a long, light blue dress:
http://www.tnphotoman.com/Churches/Who-Stole-the-Bride/13842453_4tgzG#1014514722_SqG6T