Letters to Holly

Friday, April 15

Sad Emails

The local theatre issued a surprising email a few days back. For years, they've hosted a new-play competition in two ranges: the classic three-act play and the one-act. The play I directed was that year's one-act winner. This contest is national, and the theatre takes it seriously. They produce both plays in the appropriate venues; the one-act gets a luncheon performance with the playwright, and the three-act gets a full run with the theatre. It's the most ambitious effort the theatre undertakes, and they get good response from hopeful writers.

But this recent email suggests that may be over. The theatre announced they will not offer a new play performance this year. Citing the lack of a director (for which I may have been solicited recently) and a cool reception by patrons to past winners, the play won't be produced. I wonder how that will affect future submissions to the contest; a production of the winning play was surely a draw for hopefuls. I still hold that they should cut back on the number of shows each year and avoid burning out actors and directors. It seems, each season, they are forced to announce cancellations and a policy to rearrange tickets sold for canceled shows. That has to crimp season ticket sales.

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I got an email from my ex a few days back saying her mom, my first mother-in-law, died. I hadn't spoken with her since 2001, and our final words were unhappy. She was of the mind her daughter and I were fated to be together and would reconcile magically if we were patient. I objected, saying any possible reconciliation would require her daughter to step up and act like an adult. She was nice to me, and I suspect she was relieved her daughter found a guy who treated her well. When her daughter and I reunited in the mid-'90s (after she cheated), she said she did a dance of joy. She and Your Sister met only once, at my first wedding. I may have pictures of them together. The only time I talk to my ex is when some one's near death. It doesn't make me enthused to crack open her emails when her name appears in my account.

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The sidekick didn't sleep through the night, but he did allow me to put him down and read to him. That's progress.

Picture of the Day
Mister Rogers is a mean art critic.

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