How Have Things Changed on Broadway?

For today's installment in the "Days of Yore" series, I'm excited that my friend Michael Kape has graciously agreed to share from his extensive experience onstage, behind the scenes, and as a Broadway critic, to recall ways Broadway has changed over the years. He also founded an amazing group (I may be slightly biased) called Broadway Remembered that he has allowed me to join him in adminning, along with three other fantastic admins. 

So without further ado, here's Michael:

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How Have Things Changed on Broadway?

Nearly 70 Years of Watching

 

Michael Kape

It begins by settling into a cramped seat—taking your time or rushing because you showed up after the show started. And not much has changed—with the seats, that is—in over 100 years. But what about the shows we’re seeing on the stage? Ah, there, at least, we’ve made some progress.

It is nearly impossible to encapsulate everything we’ve seen change over the past several decades. My own time in the theatre extends back only 70 years or so. I can only offer my observations and opinions (and I definitely do have some opinions). So, let me begin by offering a bit of heresy. The 1950s and 1960s were NOT really the so-called Golden Age. Those were good years, of course. But things have changed and improved. It can even be argued shows are better now than they’ve ever been, and they continue to improve. Yes, this is coming from someone who is considered an old fuddy-duddy. We’ll come back to this.

Oddly enough, this all came into focus by viewing a 35-year-old musical recently, one I had always thought was a pinnacle of great direction and design (not great music and definitely not great lyrics). Yeah, we all know the show—Phantom of the Opera.

After 35 years, it’s become old. What was once innovative and thrilling now feels tired and stodgy. I’m not talking about the performers (all great); I’m talking about the staging, the design, the overall feel. What once was exciting seems old hat. Maybe if I hadn’t been exposed to it multiple times when it debuted, I might still be thrilled by a slowly falling chandelier (like really, that can’t be considered a crash, can it?). Oh. Look. That. Chandelier. Is. Creeping. Down. To. The. Stage. In. Slow. Motion. (Cue the quasi-rock music.)

Once upon a time, like 70 years ago, we had a Main Stem bustling with excitement. A constant barrage of new plays and musicals, many of which became classics. But let’s give this golden age some context. Amusement options were fewer. Most of the country derived its entertainment from movies or television—with theatre even then a distant third (though there were more tours treading the boards from Savannah to Seattle). For every My Fair Lady, Broadway offered up a panoply of overnight flops. On the other hand, any show running at least 500 performances was considered a hit; now it hasn’t even begun to repay its investors.

My first real exposure to Broadway happened when I was only three. My late mother, ever the Broadway Baby, bought me Rodgers and Hammerstein for Children, a boxed set of 45s with music from Oklahoma to Pipe Dream (Flower Drum Song and The Sound of Music were still to be written). It was an easy way to introduce musical theatre to budding audiences. We could sing along to Happy Talk or The Gentleman Is a Dope (such a naughty word for us tots!) under the complete cooperation of theatre nerd parents (even my father got into the act by giving me his copy of the printed version of Damon Runyon’s Guys and Dolls—not the musical but the book upon which it’s based). So, I come by my theatre fixation honestly; I was raised that way. My first time on stage (but definitely not my last) was in the title role of The Gingerbread Boy at age six. Every cast album played on the new stereo as soon as it was released. I had the truncated version of Most Happy Fella memorized by age seven. The collection in our home also included South Pacific, Kiss Me Kate (on 45s), West Side Story (I was already a Sondheim fan), The Music Man (which my late sister Anita and I did in 1965), and many more. Of course, I devoured the liner notes for each recording (does anyone else miss those brilliantly written liner notes?) And being a devilish developing theatre nerd, I somehow “appropriated” my mother’s copy of The Complete Words of Gilbert and Sullivan (and I still have it, too).

 

But I digress. (I’m often accused of talking in parentheses to which I plead guilty.)

How have things changed on Broadway over seven decades? Simple. There’s a lot less being done (with far fewer theatres) but what is done is much better. This isn’t to say we didn’t have some great works 70 years ago. We did. The Lerner and Loewe catalog. The Rodgers and Hammerstein library (except for maybe Pipe Dream and Me and Juliet—what were they thinking?). Candide (yes, I know it was a flop but has there ever been a finer overture?). 

Then the so-called Golden Age gave way to something better. Concept. Shows like Cabaret. The whole Sondheim collection. Lloyd-Webber and Rice (when they worked together; we won’t discuss Cats). The mega-musicals. Better librettos. Much better design (have you ever looked at how cheap those Golden Age musicals looked?) and lighting (the current Phantom lighting looks so cheap and meh compared to what’s available now).

We expect (and get) more from Broadway now. Yet as the saying goes, you can’t hum the scenery. Yes, the set, lighting, and sound have all taken giant leaps in the past 70 years or so, but are the stories being told any better? That all depends on how they’re being told. Case in point (for me) is Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman. I know, I know, the great American tragedy. But it’s always felt like a product of its time. (Sorry, that’s just how I felt about it.) Could we really identify with Willy Loman 70 years later? I know I couldn’t—until I saw the new production on Broadway recently. The play had been reimagined, reconsidered, refocused. Now, at long last, it felt relevant again. And that’s what great theatre is supposed to do—challenge what we thought we knew and take us in an entirely different direction. On the other hand, I know many theatre companies across the country (and a few in New York City) work on slavishly recreating original productions. We can see The King and I still faithfully reproduced in any number of places (I’m not referring to the last production) as if it was a museum piece. No thought. No imagination. Even the sets are from 1951!

After all this, I’m sure some of you are wondering what could ever qualify me to write about nearly 70 years of going to Broadway? Not a helluva lot, actually (gotta be honest here). But having been given this platform to speak, I’m taking advantage of it. But in that time, I’ve been an actor, director, designer, producer, stagehand, playwright, and (much to my eternal shame) a critic (seven years on the Dark Side). And one other credit on that list—one of the brave souls administering Broadway Remembered, an aptly named group all things considered. We remember and we celebrate. And we educate because there’s still a lot of people to learn. Consider the following overheard very recently on 45^th Street and Shubert Alley: “The Booth Theatre—is that where Lincoln was shot?”

Yeah, we have a lot of educating left to do and plenty to remember.

All Things Broadway Posts

Between 2018 and 2020, I was on the blogging team for All Things Broadway, one of the most popular Broadway groups on Facebook. As their blog recently went offline, I recently reblogged my posts. I thought it might be convenient to post links to them here.

Outside the Schoenfeld Theatre on Broadway,
where Come from Away played 2017-2022
Picture taken September 2022

Come from Away: Stories and lessons from those who lived it

I interviewed several come from aways and Newfoundlanders whose stories inspired Come from Away. This is the result, along with my own memories from that horrible day. This was my first and most popular post. It also set records for All Things Broadway's blog in terms of readership.

The Showtunes of Christmas

My thoughts and suggestions if you are planning to make a Broadway Christmas album. Which showtune is and isn't a Christmas song?

All I Really Need to Know I Learned on Broadway

Inspired by Robert Fulghum's All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten, I share some valuable lessons learned in Broadway shows.

The Magic of Carol

Along with two other bloggers, we paid tribute to the late, great Carol Channing.

Writing Your Very Own Rodgers & Hammerstein Musical

My thoughts on common threads between Rodgers & Hammerstein musicals and how you can write your own R&H musical.

A Look Back, 2016-2018 (give or take)

Reviews of the shows I attended in the past 2 years, as of December 2018.

Theatre Etiquette, Part 1: Putting on the Ritz!

Etiquette for producers, directors and performers when putting on a show.

Theatre Etiquette, Part 2: A Night on the Town

Etiquette for attending a show.

Prayer, Come from Away

My thoughts on the "Prayer" in Come from Away; this was my part of a collaborative blog on songs that were particularly meaningful to us at Christmas.

You Are Here: A Come from Away Story

This was a collaborative blog about the HBO Canada documentary You Are Here: A Come from Away Story. It was one of the most moving documentaries I've ever seen.

Quarantine Playlist

This was my last post on the blog. I wrote it at the beginning of the pandemic about songs that I have found encouraging in tough times. Thanks to the pandemic, this was one of the last posts in the blog, though it would be a couple years before the blog went offline.

Times Square, September 2022

Theatre Etiquette, Part 2: A Night on the Town

 “It’s poo-LONK!”

I was attending a singalong featuring works of French composers Gabriel Fauré and Francis Jean Marcel Poulenc. Between movements, the host recounted the lives and inspirations of the two composers. I don’t remember what he said about them. They passed out sheet music when we arrived. We sight read Fauré’s Requiem, and I can’t remember which of Poulenc’s works we learned. Remembering the occasion, I had to think hard to remember that much, because the main thing I remember about the occasion was a person behind me. Every time the host mispronounced Poulenc’s name (he pronounced it “poo-lenk”), the person behind me corrected him under their breath. They likely assumed nobody could hear them, but it overshadowed the memory of the evening for me. I could hear the mutters loud and clear, and it drove me bonkers. Partly because I have the same habit, and that was when I realized the effect it has to people around me. That day I determined I would stop doing that. (I have had varying degrees of success acting on that resolution, but I’m working on it!)

I have had other incidents where people around me have distracted from the performance, but that is one of the more memorable ones. Perhaps you have stories of people’s cell phones lighting up the theatre, or maybe your amazing brother belting out “Evermore” during the credits of the recent movie remake of Beauty and the Beast so loudly that it sounded like Josh Groban was his backup singer. Perhaps you were in the theatre when Patti LuPone confiscated an audience member’s cell phone.

A couple weeks ago, I went over etiquette for people putting on a show. Now it’s time for etiquette for the audience.

Before the Show

• Arrive early. Entering late can be disruptive, and you’ll miss part of the show. If seats aren’t assigned, this can also help you to get a good seat.
• If something comes up and you can’t make it to the show, let the theatre know so they can reassign your seat. The person who gets your ticket will thank you. (I got a ticket to Come from Away at the last minute once because someone did this. I have no idea if that person is reading this, but if it’s you, thank you!)
• Do your research. If a show is of an adult nature, do not bring children. This can also save you from seeing shows that you may find surprisingly offensive. It can also save you from seeing a show with strobe lights if you’re sensitive to them.

Phones and Cameras

• Turn your cell phone completely off, or at least silence it and put it in airplane mode. Phones ringing during the show can be disruptive both for the audience and the actors. The same holds true for bright lights in the audience. If your phone is on during the performance (silenced and in airplane mode, I hope!), don’t check it during the show.
• Don’t take pictures during the performance.
• Don’t video the show or any part of it (unless you are invited to do so by someone onstage).
• If you look at your phone before or after the show, it’s best to dim your screen so it doesn’t blind people, especially if the theatre lights are somewhat dim. On most smartphones, this can be accomplished by swiping down from the top and adjusting the slider to the left.
• If you absolutely must have your phone on during the show (for example, if you are in the medical field and need to be on call), you may want to speak to an usher for guidance, as different theatres have varying policies on that. If you must take a call, at least exit the theatre and take it in the lobby. (If that is the case, you may want to request an aisle seat so you don’t have to squeeze past people.)
• While it is difficult to read your program in the dark, don’t use your phone or a flashlight to read it during the show.

Other Noises

• Avoid correcting pronunciation or other mistakes under your breath. You might be surprised how far your voice carries. (See above.)
• If you know how the show ends, avoid mentioning spoilers.
• Don’t talk during the show. This includes excited comments when someone you know walks onstage, wondering what just happened, less-than-complimentary comments on a performer you dislike, loudly deciding you dislike the hairstyle of the person in front of you, etc. Save the RiffTrax for Mystery Science Theater 3000.
• Get plenty of rest before the show, as your fellow audience members don’t need to be treated to snores.
• Do not recite or sing along, unless you are at a rock concert or you are invited to sing along. People came to hear the people onstage sing and act, not you.
• Laugh and clap at appropriate times. If you feel the need to laugh during a scene that would make most people cry, at least try to keep it quiet so it doesn’t ruin others’ experience.

Consideration of Others

• Don’t wear tall hats or beehive hairstyles, as it can obstruct the view of people behind you.
• If you must use perfume or cologne, please use it in moderation, as strong smells can dampen others’ experience.
• Keep your feet off the backs of the seats ahead of you, and avoid hitting them with your knees or anything else.
• Once the show starts, do not stand up unless there’s an emergency, or a standing ovation is warranted during the bows.
• Try to keep bathroom trips to before the show, during intermission, or after the show.
• Don’t use laser pointers. In fact, don’t bring them to the show.
• If you see an outlet on the stage, do not go up and try to charge your phone. (Unlikely this will happen, but I did read an article once about it happening!)

Dress

• Dress appropriately. Different theatres have different policies on this, so you may want to call ahead if in doubt. This also varies depending on what you are going to see. A high school production would be a much more casual occasion than, say, an opera.

Food

• Check your theatre’s policy before bringing outside food in. Most theatres don’t allow it.
• Avoid opening candy wrappers during the show, or eating said candy while holding the wrapper.
• Avoid crunchy food, such as chips. People around you don’t need to hear *crunch crunch crunch* when they’re trying to listen to the show. (They can also be crumbly and make a mess.)
• Avoid greasy or messy food, including soda (pop, Coke, soft drinks, whatever you call it where you live) that can spill and make for a sticky floor. If your hands are messy from eating greasy food before the show, wash them before entering the theatre.

After the Show

• Avoid booing a person’s performance, unless they played a villain and their character’s personality warrants it. In that case, boo the character, not the performance.
• If you aren’t planning on keeping your program or Playbill, give it to an usher. This cuts down on clutter, and if it’s in good enough condition, they can reuse it. (This can also cut down on costs for the theatre.)
• Take your trash with you. The people who have to clean up after the show will thank you.
• After leaving the theatre, avoid discussing spoilers, as passersby may be planning to see the next show and don’t need to know yet how the show ends. You can always discuss that in the car or at home when you know everyone around has seen it.

Stage Door

• If you do stage door, be patient as the actors often have to remove makeup and costumes before meeting people.
• Respect the actors and fellow people in line at the stage door.
• If the actor you were hoping to meet doesn’t come out, don’t take it personally. Perhaps they had a particularly exhausting performance and need to rest up for the next one.
• Don’t crowd the actors.
• Don’t spend too much time with an actor, as others are also waiting to talk to them. Pay attention to any restrictions on signatures and pictures.
• You may want to check with the theatre ahead of time whether they have a policy on gifts for the actors. While it is thoughtful and may mean a lot to the actor, they sometimes get mountains of gifts and then don’t know what to do with them.
• Basically, as much as you may admire them, remember the actors are human and need to be treated as such. (That’s sometimes easy to forget when someone is particularly talented.)

To sum up, all of this can be consolidated into two words: Be respectful!

Enjoy the show, and do what you can to help others enjoy it!

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I wrote this in October 2019 for the All Things Broadway blog, which is no longer online.

Theatre Etiquette, Part 1: Putting on the Ritz!

“Hello?”

RING RING!!

This is what happens when the person doing the sound effects is so enthralled with the stellar acting in John Olive’s The Voice of the Prairie that he forgets he is supposed to trigger the sound cue for the telephone, causing the actors to have to ad lib until they finally answer the silent phone because the show must go on. It is only then that the sound guy jumps and presses the button to make the phone ring. After the character has answered the phone. Embarrassing? Absolutely! If you haven’t guessed, that sound guy was me. For actors, crew members and everyone else putting on a show, it pays to remember your cues!

When putting on a show, it is important to follow some guidelines that will help to create a memorable experience for the people who will be paying to see your show. I thought it might be useful to include some of those here to help future productions. Some of these may seem obvious to some, but not to others.

Directors and Producers

• Congratulations! You have chosen a show to put on! Have you secured the rights? Be sure to review the contract carefully and abide by the terms. Shows have been cancelled by the rights holders in the past because people didn’t read the terms and didn’t know the laws well enough.
• Don’t make changes to the script without permission from the playwright or rights holders. This includes cutting songs, removing swear words, rearranging scenes, and any other changes you might want to make. Depending on your situation (for example, a school putting on a play that includes swear words in the script), there may be good reason to make minor tweaks, but it is essential to get permission before doing so. The artist wrote it the way they did for a reason, and they need a say in any tweaks in the script. If you don’t want to seek permission, or if the permission is denied and it is important enough to you, you may do better to choose a different show. Arranging videos of the performances also falls under this area. If you want to the show recorded, be sure you have permission from the copyright owners first (and pay any additional royalties if they require that for recording it). This also sometimes includes when you are allowed to announce the show you are doing.
• Respect your cast and crew. They are here to bring your vision (and the playwright’s vision) to the stage. As you know, blocking involves telling actors where to step, how to move, etc. Sound and light cues need to come in a precise part of the show and spot on the stage. You need to be able to give more precise instructions than you would in other situations, but it is important that the cast and crew not feel micromanaged. There is a balance between encouraging actors’ creative juices and overregulating and over-criticizing. When you give stage notes, be sure you aren’t coming across as upset that they did something wrong, or that they are in trouble. The more respectful you are to the actors and crew members, the more they will respect you and be willing to take direction.
• Though rehearsals can run late for various reasons, be conscious of the time and needs of your cast and crew. If rehearsal runs too late, it can affect other parts of their lives, and they (and you) may have trouble staying awake the following day! Tiredness can also lead to tempers flaring. 
• Take into account dietary needs of everyone in the show. Since it is common to have food at rehearsals and cast parties, it would be a shame for someone to have to leave the show because they accidentally ate something they were allergic to. (For that matter, avoid having messy food backstage during the run of the show. For example, banana peels on a dark floor backstage could be a recipe for disaster.)

Cast and Crew

• Remember that theatrical communities are often tight-knit, and theatre groups communicate with each other. Don’t get blacklisted with one company, as other companies may find out and blacklist you as well. You may never be told, but you may suddenly find yourself having a lot of difficulty being cast in a show. (Of course, there are plenty of other reasons you might have trouble being cast, but that is an important one.) 
• Let your creative juices flow, but don’t take it personally when your director tells you to change something in the way you portray your character.
• Listen to and do what your director and stage manager tell you. Even if you don’t like a stage direction, be willing to make changes in the way you portray a character if told to do so. Inability to take directions is a surefire way of being blacklisted, and even dismissed from a show on occasion.
• Be careful how you talk to and about others in the production. Badmouthing others is another way to be blacklisted.
• Remember your cues. This may mean marking up your script with reminders. (If the script doesn’t belong to you, be sure to use pencil!) After my mistake I mentioned earlier, I made notes in my script every page for several pages back, “Phone coming in ten pages”… “Phone coming in nine pages”… etc. I also highlighted and circled the sound cue. (My script belonged to me.) Whatever works for you so that you remember, be sure you do that.
• Memorize your lines. There are various techniques for doing this, and it might behoove you to talk to more experienced actors, or your director, if that is an issue. It can be embarrassing when you are standing onstage and you forget your lines. At that point, you don’t have the option of saying, “Line?” I speak from experience.
• Do not give stage notes or suggestions to fellow actors. That is the job of the director and stage manager. If you have ideas to improve someone’s performance (or correct an error you notice), by all means talk to the stage manager about it. But do not talk to the actor in question. That said, you will want to keep the suggestions to the stage manager in moderation, because you also don’t want to be a pest. You want others to see you as helpful, not arrogant.
• Maintain a certain amount of humility. It is good to be proud of your talent, but you don’t want to come across like Carlotta in The Phantom of the Opera, looking down on others in the production and treating them as less than you.
• If you see another person’s prop backstage, do not touch it. Props are where they are so they will be handy when the actor who needs it can take it onstage. If a person’s prop isn’t on the prop table at the moment they need it, that could cause serious issues onstage.
• Don’t take your props, costumes or makeup home during the run of the show. If you forget to bring it to a performance, you may be out of luck. They need to stay at the theatre so they are there when you need them.
• Turn off your phones, or at least put them in airplane mode and make sure they are silenced. Let’s just say your show is set in ancient Greece. Unless archaeologists discover something heretofore unknown, the ancient Greeks did not have cell phones, and it would ruin the ambiance for a phone to start ringing backstage. (Well, I wouldn’t put some shenanigans past Apollo, but that’s another matter.) Even in shows set in modern times, a phone at the wrong time can disrupt a show.
• Keep talk backstage to a minimum and as quiet as possible. The audience should not be able to hear it, and depending on the theatre where you are performing, you might be surprised how much the audience can hear. In fact, as a general rule of thumb, if it is typically mentioned in the pre-show instructions to the audience (turn off your phones, don’t talk during the show, don’t open candy wrappers during the show, no filming or photography, etc.), follow those directions backstage as well. This is also important because actors need to be able to hear what is going on onstage, so they don’t miss their cues.
• If you make a mistake onstage, just go with it. Making it look like you intended to do that is an important skill to master. Wincing or breaking character is worse than making the mistake in the first place, and if you recover right, the audience may never know you did anything wrong. (When you get offstage, you may want to make a note in your script or take other measures to avoid that mistake in future performances.) If a fellow actor makes a mistake that affects someone else, cover for them. But stay in character!
• Remember the fourth wall. You can’t see it, but there is an imaginary wall that separates you from the audience. Unless the script calls for it (such as for certain parts of Into the Woods, Jersey Boys and others), it looks far less convincing when you try to make eye contact with the audience. For the duration of the show, your world is onstage. That said, avoid having your back to the audience, unless the script and/or your director calls for it.
• If you have a matinee and evening show in the same day, avoid leaving the theatre or taking unnecessary risks between performances. If the unexpected were to happen (such as a car accident or the like), that could negatively affect the rest of the run, and it wouldn’t be pleasant for you.
• If you do stage door or are otherwise able to greet audience members after the show, follow your director’s instructions. Some directors allow the actors to leave the stage and greet their friends, family and fans right away. Others require actors to change and remove makeup before doing so. Since this varies between theatre groups, you will want to clarify that with your director if they don’t mention it before the show.
• While pranks can be fun during the final performance, make sure they aren’t noticeable to the audience. They paid to see the same show you’ve done throughout the run, with the same quality. If your director tells you not to do pranks the final performance, don’t do them!
• To quote J.K. Rowling, #KeeptheSecrets. Promoting your production is great, but don’t give spoilers to people who aren’t involved, as that can affect how people seeing it for the first time appreciate the show.
• Under no circumstances should you say the name of the Scottish Play (unless you are performing said play) or tell anyone “Good luck” in the theatre! It would be a shame to have to delay a show because you had to go outside, spin around 3 times, spit, curse, and then have to knock on the theatre door to be allowed back in! Best to avoid the “M” word and tell everyone to break a leg instead. Theatre superstitions are very important!

Most important: Enjoy yourself! Pulling off a show successfully is an exhilarating feeling and something to be intensely proud of. It’s a lot of hard work, but it’s worth it.

Break a leg!

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I wrote this in September 2019 for the All Things Broadway blog, which is no longer online.

Dad

"Passing bells and sculpted angels, cold and monumental, seem for you the wrong companions. You were warm and gentle."

I'm "working through the unimaginable," to quote Hamilton.

When I was a kid living in the Philippines, my brother Tim introduced me to Broadway musicals. I particularly remember us listening to The Phantom of the Opera on repeat. Sometimes we had to take the cassettes out of the tape recorder and wind the film back into the cassette because it got tangled in the tape recorder. They played "Good Morning" from Singin' in the Rain every morning on the radio, and we taped it, along with other songs like "Put on a Happy Face" from Bye Bye Birdie. We listened to Broadway and Christian music all the time. (My mom got tired of the screams in Phantom of the Opera.)

Through it all, my dad, an avid sports fan, who once dreamed of raising a softball team, encouraged his two sons in our love of music. Neither of us were particularly into sports as he had hoped, but he didn't press us to do something we wouldn't like. (Though we have enjoyed attending baseball games together, and Tim and I have attended a lot of rugby games since the Seattle Seawolves started a couple years ago.) My dad paid attention to our interests and encouraged them. He enjoyed Phantom and other musicals with us. We watched the classic movie musicals as a family. I lost count of how many times we watched The Sound of Music, Fiddler on the Roof, and others. Someone gave us the animated musical of Gulliver's Travels ("Aaaalll's well! It's a hap-hap-happy day!") and we watched that video many times. So many happy memories. 

Every play, musical and concert in school, my dad was there rooting us on. Tim played Captain Corcoran in HMS Pinafore in high school. I would later be in a Disney revue and Oklahoma! when I was in high school. In college, Tim was in a community theatre production of Carousel, and I would later be in South Pacific in a different community theatre group. We both were in Oliver! Tim was in a lot more community theatre shows than I was. I was also in several plays, such as Arsenic & Old Lace, The Curious Savage, You Can't Take it with You, and others. My dad cheered us on and constantly encouraged us. My parents enthusiastically joined our church choir when my brother joined, and when Tim later started directing it. I also participated.

My dad and I also enjoyed watching adventure movies together, such as Lord of the Rings, Pirates of the Caribbean, Master and Commander, Star Wars, and others. We enjoyed discussing them.

For Tim's 30th birthday, my parents treated us to a nearly-lifelong dream of watching The Phantom of the Opera in its national tour when it came through Seattle. Years later, on my 40th birthday, they told me I could name the musical and we would go. It took nearly a year for the right musical to come through Seattle, but we went to Come from Away as a family. We couldn't know it would be the last show we would see together as a family of four.

Last month, my dad was watching football when he had a stroke. We called 911, and he was rushed to the hospital, then transferred to another one a little further away. A week and a half ago, he was put on comfort care, and we rushed to the hospital, where Tim and I both got to talk to him individually and thank him for being a truly amazing father. The next morning, he was gone. We got the call in the middle of the night and rushed back to the hospital. He had been gone nearly an hour when we arrived.

It seems unreal. Just a month ago, he was relatively healthy. Now, he's gone. It's hard to take in. The past week and a half we have been involved in arrangements and so much other stuff involved in losing him. While I'm currently doing better than I would have expected, the grief has been up and down. I'm sure it will intensify as the burial makes it more real.

My mom commented he will have a better Christmas than we will. I rest in the assurance that he is in a better place, with no more pain, completely healed. That is a big help. But I find myself "wishing [he] were somehow here again." I regularly think of a question to ask him or want to share something with him that he would enjoy, only to realize that can't happen. As of a couple weeks ago, he was the only person I had bought Christmas presents for so far.

I remember the amazing man he was, and I think of how much I took for granted when he was with us. So many times I have heard people who have lost a loved one beg their friends to treasure their loved ones while they are here. That never really sank in for me until the past few weeks. I've always appreciated him, but I do now more than ever, and I wish I could tell him.

Several songs have resonated with me in ways they haven't in the past. Josh Groban's rendition of "To Where You Are" has helped. "Here Comes the Sun" by the Beatles. Several hymns, such as "It Is Well" (which was written by a father who had just lost his daughters in a shipwreck). The worship song "We Will Dance". My friend Clay Crosse's rendition of "Time to Believe". "Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again" from The Phantom of the Opera. "Bring Him Home" and "Empty Chairs at Empty Tables" from Les Mis (another cast recording my brother and I played over and over in the 80s and 90s). Multiple songs from Come from Away. "Proud of Your Boy" from Aladdin. "Endless Night" and "He Lives in You" from The Lion King. "All the Wasted Time" from Parade. "It's Quiet Uptown" from Hamilton. "The Honor of Your Name" from The Civil War. Multiple others.

Thank you to everyone who has been so supportive, even not knowing what was going on. You have been a major encouragement to us.

Dear Steven Sauke

Dear Steven Sauke,

Today is going to be a good day, and here's why.

I went to see Dear Evan Hansen this past Friday on its national tour. It really got me thinking about how I treat the people around me. While I endeavor not to resort to bully tactics like Connor, my integrity is far too important to me to lie like Evan or betray confidences like Alana, and I hope I don't put conditions on helping others (or encourage dishonest behavior, or neglect to keep my mind out of the gutter) like Jared, I can see myself in several of the characters.

I remember my first day in 8th grade, at a new school in a new country, standing in a hall full of strangers hugging each other and greeting each other excitedly after a summer of missing each other. It was like I was "waving through a window," too scared and shy to talk to others. But I made friends that year. Some of them are still friends today. People teased me about my old-fashioned clothes (stripes were out of fashion, but I was not to know that, having recently returned from the Philippines). Classmates teased me about not knowing common American phrases like "The King is dead." (I only found out at the end of the year they were referring to Elvis and not Jesus.) A classmate wrote on my jacket in pencil, and when I tried to erase it, it wouldn't erase. I had to get a new jacket. As I progressed through high school, my classmates and I matured, but we were still typical teenagers. (Well, I've never been especially typical, but you know what I mean.)

I think about the way Connor and Evan treated their families. 

Connor's parents and Evan's mother were trying their hardest to raise their children, and kept coming across roadblocks and complications. Connor treated his family so poorly that his sister Zoe couldn't remember one good thing about him, and though his mother Cynthia insisted there were good things, she couldn't name one. Larry Murphy tried to provide for his son and teach him, but he didn't listen or seem to care. Please, let me never inspire my own dad to lament, "I gave you the world, and you threw it away!" 

Heidi Hansen did everything she could to provide for her son, while dealing with her own pain of the divorce ten years earlier, and her ex-husband moving on and starting his own family. She worked at the local hospital and took law classes, and even though she wasn't as available for her son as either of them would have preferred, she still made time for him. But he didn't truly appreciate it. He even lashed out at her when she made time for him, and he kept important things from her in an effort to cover up his lies. She learned major things about her own son on social media. Stuff he never told her.

Larry, Cynthia and Heidi all made sacrifices for their children, and they still felt like failures at times. That's part of being human. I don't consciously lie to people, but how many times have I withheld details that would have been important to someone who loves me and wants to help?

I guard my integrity jealously. It is one of my most deeply-held values. But, as with anyone else, it can always use improvement. Too often I take my family's love and sacrifices for granted, and I don't show the appreciation they deserve. At my current job in customer care, we have to deal with the fallout of salespeople's overpromises at times. How many times have I made a promise in other areas of life, and either come up short or forgotten to follow through? How can I learn from those experiences?

My family and friends are precious to me. I love them dearly. But sometimes I come up short and need "a little reinvention" (but in a more honest manner than the context of that quote in the musical). How can I reinvent myself rather than the facts? I'm thankful I have God and respected relatives and friends to help me with that!

The Connor Project was an amazing, important idea. We need more projects like that to remember people who were forgotten, to reach out to people who feel invisible and unloved. We need to remind them that they will be found. They are loved deeply. They are valuable. But we can't found these initiatives on lies. Good may come of it, but the guilt and torture lies can unleash is harmful.

As for the performance, set, and technical details, I thought it was amazing. The things they did with lighting, the way they showed texts, essays, Facebook posts, YouTube videos, e-mails, and more, was incredible. With all the social media going on onstage, I didn't even realize until the end of the show that there were only eight people in the cast! Noah Kieserman was fantastic as Evan, and I would have never guessed he was an understudy. Particularly since it was his face in the videos onscreen replaying his speech. (It was clearly not filmed live, as there's a curtain behind him in the videos, but not when he's giving the speech.) They must have videoed all the actors and understudies doing that scene in front of a school auditorium curtain. Everyone - cast, crew and orchestra - nailed their parts. The orchestra was on a balcony above the stage, and there were seats for audience in the orchestra pit. As is evident from my thoughts above, I came away thinking about how I can be a better, more appreciative person. So much in the show is relatable.

I have the most amazing parents and brother I could possibly imagine. I have several close friends that I consider siblings. I also have a lot of amazing friends that I don't consider siblings, but still love and respect deeply. How can I express more how much I truly love and appreciate them? I have been so blessed with such an amazing family, incredible friends, awesome coworkers (who are also friends), and so much more. May I never neglect to remind them how loved, respected and valued they are.

"Even when the dark comes crashing through

When you need a friend to carry you

And when you're broken on the ground

You will be found."

Sincerely,

Me

Graphic at the top generated from https://dearevanhansen.com/newyears/