|photo by Jenny Badame|
This past weekend was one of the most memorable despite the fact that Saturday began so awfully, with a migraine gnawing at me throughout the whole day and a sudden weather shift that chased the majority of patrons away. But those that held in there were witness to rare and fabulous sights such as Robin Hood and his men fighting with imaginary weapons and Tamora getting advice on how to be a proper lady by Maid Marion herself. The gates closed and we sang our finale song to a sparse few dedicated patrons who truly seemed to appreciate the efforts more than ever.
Being the middle of the season, Saturday also included a quiet moment sitting with my director and assistant director to evaluate my work so far. Still battling my massive headache and the heat, this meeting was daunting until it actually began. I was delighted to hear their thoughts and I babbled about how very much this has all come to mean to me. I can't say enough how big of a place Bristol has in my heart. The kind words I was given during that meeting gave me the strength to carry on that day, and fueled the rest of the weekend.
Sunday morning I had the inexplicable feeling that it was going to be a good day. I felt confident, the weather was wonderful and the people were all in good moods. No matter what, I was determined to make it a good one.
My vegetable cart has broken in some manner every weekend thus far. Some part of my beloved shabby old girl always inevitably needs adjusting, reattaching or downright rebuilding. So when the only thing on the entire cart that needs fixing that whole weekend was a postage stamp sized piece of leather that covers a sharp screw end, I'd say its a win.
I had more pictures of me taken that day than any other it seemed. I could not go more than ten or twenty feet before another family called me over and begged for a portrait with my filthy face smiling in it. I loved each one, happily declaring "Now at the count of three, everyone say "SKUMM!" and throughout the day I had some of the best interactions ever. From spirited impromptu didgeridoo concerts with my pretend wooden straw didgeridoo to having someone ask me quietly, "Are you american? Or are you really from england? You sound really REALLY convincing..."
But the one that I will never forget, the surreal one that threw me so much that I look back on it and wish desperately that I would have spent more time with her and been a bit more eloquent, was when I met what was basically myself about ten years ago.
I was walking quickly to get somewhere I needed to be at a certain time and an awkward teenage girl in big glasses with mousy brown straight hair wearing a baggy tie-dye shirt approached me, looking like she stepped right out of my past. She gushed that she loved my big floppy hat and then my whole patchy and mismatched distressed outfit. Then her eyes went wide and she asked "OH MY GOD! Do you have dreadlocks!? I have ALWAYS wanted dreadlocks!" This girl was me a decade ago. Everything about her echoed my past and it took a fair amount of focus to stay strong and in character.
I wish I would have said something better to this girl. I can't even really recall what it was that I said for sure, being in a hurry and being just so shocked. But I just know I damn near cried backstage after she raved about my costume, dialect, getting to be part of the faire and my dreadlocks (especially my locks, a feature that Tamora and I share and that have more meaning than a hairstyle probably should), and she said the phrase "I wish I could BE you!!!"
What I wanted to have said was, "Give it time, love. Follow your dreams"