My earliest memory of theater is attending high mass at St. Mary's Catholic Cathedral in Edinburgh (Scot.). I was seven years old, and the impression was lasting: the brightly lit altar, the tall, elegant candles, the vaulted roof. The priests' vestments of white and gold, the red and white robes of the men and boys' choirs, the incense rising in smokey, fragrant swirls, the Latin chants floating heavenwards. Exquisite theatre.
At twelve, with two school friends, I became an habitue of the Lyceum Theatre in Edinburgh. For sixpence, we sat in the Gods, so called because they were the highest seats, so closest to the gods, and reveled in the plays of the likes of Coward and Shaw and Priestly delivered by an ensemble of actors. Later, we would discuss the plays, which were mostly beyond our comprehension, and the performers, with all the enthusiasm of the uninformed.
It was much later that I discovered playwrighting, thanks to a good friend who suggested I might cross the footlights and go backstage, where theatre begins, at the typewriter. (The Vitae page tells the most recent activities relating to that.) I took her advice to write plays and live happily ever after. Still writing! Still living! Politics and Wall Street aside, still happy!
The lovely Bailiwick Repertory production of THE CAIRN STONES
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