When I was a high school freshman, I participated in a
musical tribute to Broadway called “Take Time Out.” An outside producer named
Joseph Hayes directed the show. A few months later his first play, “A Shot In
The Dark,” debuted on Broadway. It introduced the world to the bungling
Inspector Closseau character immortalized by Peter Sellers. I suspect after
that Mr. Hayes didn’t do too many more shows with high school kids. But I was
one of those privileged to do so.
I had never been in a show before and on opening night as we
were standing behind the curtain waiting to belt out “Another Opening, Another
Show” from Annie Get Your Gun, I was
in panic mode. The girl next to me, a gorgeous blond cheerleader, put her arms
around me and whispered in my ear “we can do this.” I was so distracted that
when the curtain opened, I was ready to rock it!
Anyhow, something happened after that opening number, people
applauded – wildly! And it was like mainlining heroin. I was hooked. I decided
I would become an actor.
I landed a few roles in various high school plays and took
the only drama class the school offered. And I learned the basics. But after
graduation, I auditioned with a local theater group and realized I had nothing
to offer. My training was non-existent. My skills were minimal and my talent
even more so. Fortunately, a few years later I discovered my true muse,
writing. And so the world lost a
lousy actor and gained a mediocre writer. Hey! It paid the bills.
But I have had the opportunity now and then to work with the
performing arts. Mimicking Mr. Hayes style, I worked with day campers for their
camp shows. And as a teacher, I’ve found that certain lessons can start in the
morning and by the time I reach the last of the day, I am so well rehearsed
that the lesson goes smoothly.
But one of the things I’ve been able to do while
volunteering at state parks in Oregon was to put some pizzazz into interpretive
presentations. While at Fort Stevens state park, I gave tours of the ruins of
the fort from the back of an old army “duce-and-a-half” truck for a month. My
driver would play a tape and then I would supplement what was on the tape with
added information. Two weeks and about 30 tours later, the tape deck crashed
and I told Sam, the driver, that I would do it all. He had never heard me
because the tape was so noisy and was amazed to hear me give the riders a
well-rehearsed, 45-minute monologue.
Sam Yanni, left, and I gave tours on a 1954 Army "Duce-And-A-Half" troop carrier truck last August in Ft. Stevens, OR. Sam is a deeply spiritual man who has had several bouts with MS. He fought back each time believing God still wanted him to do something. He was unable to return to Ft. Stevens this year due to his illness and I haven't been able to contact him. He loved living in the outdoors as a camp host rather than being tied to an apartment with his illness..
But the best part has been at Memaloose State Park. Last
year, the evening campfire programs were supposed to end at Labor Day and I
asked to do a program about the Columbia River on the last night. The ranger
let me “do my thing” and I wound up developing a series of programs for
visitors then and in the early part of this year’s season. They are quite happy
with this because the ranger who ran the program last year has moved to a
different park and they are now having volunteers do the programs. I’ve been
able to create six of them, enough for a month, so volunteers just have to
push a “play” button.
Last night was my last night of doing these presentations. I
am moving on from Oregon, heading back east to see if I can find an old or new
home for myself there. I didn’t think much about it other than saying to myself
“hey, this is the last time.”
I had selected my favorite program to end the run. It is
about the Oregon Trail. After a get-acquainted time, I tell the people how the
nearby town of The Dalles (the word “the” is part of the town’s name) was where
a life-and-death decision had to be made. To get to the Willamette Valley,
pioneers had to either go down the raging Columbia River or go overland near
Mt. Hood and chance early blizzards.
I told them this choice reminded me of a question a
philosophy professor once asked. If you were sentenced to death, would you
prefer to be burned at the stake of beheaded? Of course the entire audience
says they want the beheading and I tell them “Not me. I’ll take a hot steak
over a cold chop any day,” Amidst the howls of outrage and laughter, I settle
down and we do a sing-a-long song from a 1950s movie about the Oregon Trail.
The music plays and after the song, the video tape continues to a short slide show
I’ve made about the Oregon Trail, comparing my travels along much of the trail
to what the pioneers did (“They had no firewood and cooked their meals on
buffalo chips. Me? I had propane!”). This was followed by a half-hour movie and
closing salutations.
It, too, had been done many times over the past two seasons,
and I was very well rehearsed. It went very smoothly. I remembered all my
“lines” and my audience left feeling happy. Many stayed to talk to me.
After that, I realized I had to pick up some milk and as I
drove into town, I experienced a feeling I’m sure many actors feel. This was a
long-running program. It wasn’t the three or four shows done in high school.
And I experienced a feeling of satisfaction. I gave it my best each night of
the run and it kept getting better. People enjoyed it.
Somewhere along the road of my life, I heard that campfires
warm you twice. Once when you are at them and again when you remember them. I
know I left behind a great deal of people warm. And I realized that it wasn’t
about me, or my acting, but that it was a privilege to serve them.
And so my run in Oregon parks has ended. It’s been a
wonderful time and thank you very much, uh-huh!
***
Note: It didn't stop when I left Oregon. At my next destination, Wall Drug, a tourist trap in South Dakota, I spent two summers selling snake oil (not that YOU need it, but it will even make you more attractive to the opposite sex. And it will also clean your rusty shotgun) as well ad deputizing all the kids who bought toy guns. after all, I was the sheriff and South Dakota's strict toy gun laws had to be enforced.
