Seen: this evening
So here I am, back where it all began.
Last week after I went to Fiddler on the Roof at the new building of my old high school, I realized it was probably time at last to go see some kind of show at the old building, the one I and my friends knew as Fort Collins High School, and which is now the University Center for the Arts for Colorado State.
The renovations were done over the last decade---the entire building was gutted and remodled. I'd been inside since then, but only in passing. I hadn't poked around much, or gone to any kind of performance.
After looking over the schedule at the CSU website, I decided the senior dance recital was my best bet. It was to be held in the University Dance Theatre inside the building. I was curious to see where that was, in relation to old school plan.
I got to the box office about an hour beforehand, which left me time to walk around the building, which was open, as an campus building was, during finals. I walked along the first floor and up the main staircase where we used to sing the Alma Mater on the landing every Friday at noon.
What I was most curious to see is what had become of the old auditorium where I had performed on stage. The sign above the entrance indicated it was now the Organ Recital Hall. I tried the door: it was open. I walked inside and saw the old space I knew, now dominated by a giant pipe organ on the old stage.
The lights were on, but the auditorium was empty. Delighted at the chance to be there, I walked up towards the stage. I could see that besides all new seats, the stage itself had been extended about fifteen feet and was occupied by a grand piano. I could see where the old stage still was. It seemed some of the same wooden planks were there, by their wear compared to the newer part.
I walked up onto the old part and crept out towards center stage in front of the pipe organ. The first thing I remembered was the very first time I came out on stage, as Mr. Webb in Our Town, thirty-one years ago, introduced by the Stage Manager, my friend Ken, who passed away a few months ago while I traveling on the West Coast.
I paced around a few minutes and remembered other lines from the other dramas I had been in.
My skin...it's...healed...
As I stood leaning against the wall soaking in a few moments of remembering, the door opened on stage and a young Asian man poked his head in. He saw me and said, "the concert is over now." Evidently there had been a vocal recital there earlier in the evening.
I explained to him my story in brief, and that was just there to reminisce. I told about parts of the auditorium that had changed. He seemed to know more than he should have.
"The tower...," he said, pointed upwards. "It's blocked off now."
"Oh, yeah," I said. "I climbed it once. There used to be all sorts of secret passages backstage. I guess those are gone," I said, looking at the massive pipe organ.
Having gotten my fill, and having exhausted my memory of my lines from various roles, I left and went back down the hall towards the dance theatre, which turned out to be inside the space once occupied by what we called "The Small Gym" of the high school. My main memory of that place was the ritual of card pulling at the beginning of each semester to select classes.
Before the performance I sat in the nice chairs in the remodeled hallway and kibbutzed on the conversations of the dance students and their parents and boyfriends.
The recital was well attended and entertaining. I'm not much to judge either the choreography or the performances, so I can't say much.
There were four solos, and two ensemble performances, the largest of which had about twenty dancers on stage. Of course over eighty percent were young women---beautiful and graceful. The content seemed so innocent when the world is so uninnocent. There were no political statements or anything of that type in the content or choreograph. I couldn't help thing how little has really changed from the days when co-eds were required to take "eurythmy" as part of their undergraduate coursework.
May it always be so innocent, I thought to myself.
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