Mother, May I...?

After spending some time living like an old lady, the children's theatre that I work for asked me to revisit my role as old Mother Goose in our original play "The Real Mother Goose" for a few summer performances. As teaching drama to children is my main real source of income, the summer months can be trickier for me in the financial sense as my teaching hours are cut significantly. So when YPT offered me a few more paid performances as Mother Goose, I willingly accepted knowing that it may not be considered the "coolest" summer job.

Now, I often consider myself a rather silly person, but this show tends to push my silly limits. The play is intended for preschoolers, mainly, and to appeal to its audience we have a very broad and extensive series of props ranging from a giant goose in which Mother Goose is supposed to "fly in on", a spider that is twice the size of my dog, and a separate hat for almost every rhyme. My costume is a green dress my boss found in our costume shop; it is extremely wide and short and the tight arm sleeves end several awkward inches from where my wrists begin. I also wear a bonnet and crazy itchy collar that I have to pin on the neck of the dress and it really couldn't be any more uncomfortable. So in other words, I've probably never looked better.

My performance on Tuesday was at the Park Branch of the San Francisco Library on Page Street in the Haight. Because of all of the props, it's sadly impossible for one person to manage transporting them alone and since I don't have a car I had to rely on the other teacher of YPT to take me and my show supplies to the big venue. And because she has another teaching obligation she had to drop me off several hours before my scheduled performance leaving me plenty of time to really get into character and realize that my poor hideous green dress didn't make it along with me...

But I'm an professional, right? I need to be able to think quickly and problem solve... so I kept on the pink skirt I was wearing, put on my black sweater, fastened on a ridiculous feathered cape meant for our "Mary Had a Little Lamb" section, put that bonnet on my head, vowed to grit my teeth, and tried to smile. And then in came my audience. And an endless supply of strollers. Baby after crying baby and their parents and nannies. Now, like I said earlier, the show is designed for preschoolers; Mother Goose shares a nursery rhyme and its history and then invites someone up on stage to help act out the words while giving the child the chance to put on a costume and enjoy the spot light. So when the wave of babies entered the room I wasn't quite sure how the show would work out.

Part of me took the time to just laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. Here I am trying to become a "serious actor" longing for dramatic roles, Shakespeare verses, classic musical theatre songs, and the opportunity to share the stage with people who share that same hope. Instead, I'm alone in the basement of a small library in a makeshift costume surrounded by babies and their parents (composed mostly of people who may not speak English on a daily basis). But a performance is a performance and I knew I had no choice but to make it work. Luckily, a few children came in late who were able to stand up on their own so I was able to put costumes on them and seeing their child in a silly hat seemed to be enough to fool the parents into thinking this was one great show. The real test came a little later into the show when a very large and rather gruff woman in the front row called her daughter over to her and tried to breast feed her. The child was old enough to walk and talk (though I'm not totally sure the language she was speaking...) and I was right in the middle of explaining the history of "Jack and Jill" when out popped a region of this woman that I would have been happier not to see. When her child didn't take this free lunch opportunity, she whipped, um, the region back out and put it under her shirt. Yikes, guys, yikes. I did all that I could to just keep going hoping that one day, when I have my own Tony Award, I'd be able to celebrate that real test of performance focus.

Fortunately, the rest of the show fell into place and I managed to get out of the library with some of my self respect. The library told me that they would love to bring the show back for some additional performances and I just smiled and sighed, thankful to leave my character of old Mother Goose for the day and return to my life... of tea, knitting, baking, and all the other fancies of old lady living. Old Mother Goose when she wanted to wander would fly through the air on a very fine gander...