Old Dawg New Ish
How Joining A Comedy Troupe Keeps Me Young (and Twerking)
If you have followed me for any length of time, you’ve heard me go on and on about the power of a Yearly Life Audit, and the practice literally saved my life in late 2016. Last summer, I was working on a draft of my upcoming medical memoir, and realized that I had completely lost my sense of humor.
Maybe you’ve dabbled in the book writing process? Then you know it takes much longer than you had expected, and in my case, it kept me talking and thinking into a very difficult time in my life: treatment for late stage 3 colorectal cancer.
I was not new to this group in my town. As a former theatre professor, I watch for the artists and groups doing the work that feeds my creative self, and a few of the members, especially the two women leading the group, were on my list to watch. Since 2016, I had been a super fan, filling rows of their small black box theatre with my friends and anyone who would listen to me rave about The Mothers Comedy for years. I had even made jokes about starting The Grandmothers Comedy, where all of our shows were at 2:30 pm.
During a Yearly Life Audit, I noticed a desire to be creatively connected, which made complete sense, seeing as this touches a few categories in the 8 Dimensions of Wellness, social and intellectual wellness in particular, two categories where I had lower personal satisfaction in that audit. I made a mental note to audition for The Mothers in the fall.
Fall rolled around, and with it, notices of auditions. I thought about myself and the 20 year age gap (at least) with the other members. Would they think I was old? Would I need a translator? Would they? I hadn’t seen anyone my age in their group, and worried that I might not be what they were looking for. These thoughts continued as I walked into the Side Door Theatre at Trustus.
“Are you freaking kidding me? You’re in.” I knew the voice, and loved the woman it came from, Abby, one of the two leads.
“EXCUSE ME, Miss. I haven’t met this woman nor have I voted, yet, ABIGAIL.” Amir, a Mothers member I had loved for years, seemed to be playing the role of bad cop.
I took my audition paperwork, and sat dutifully in the row of chairs by the wall, and played my role of Mothers Hopeful. I was also hoping to see others my age at the audition, but though I met a few that day, but I am the oldest Mother in Season 8. Maybe in any season.
Here’s what I’d learn, even with Martha’s explanation of the differences between a traditional theatre process and theirs, the speed at which these folks think, create, build, and process is astounding. I was soon handed 9 scripts to learn in two weeks, and though I upped my Omega 3s and worked diligently to memorize them, I struggled to keep up with the pace. I did not, however, struggle to keep up physically, thanks to a Life Audit change a year prior, a weightlifting practice. When Martha asked if anyone could do a handstand at the wall, the youngest member, KJ and I flung our feet up with ease. From upside down, I offered, “I think I can twerk from here.” The twerking was unanimously voted in, and will be remembered as a member and audience favorite moment of that show.
That’s when I realized the comedic value that I bring, as shocking as it might be, is me, at almost 50, flanking the youngest member gyrating upside down with wild abandon. I did survive the onslaught of characters and words to learn, and remember I could do it imperfectly. I learned to play at their speed: fast and loose, and trust that my WEIRD is as funny as CLEVER. In The Mothers, I am surrounded fast thinking folks, and when I can’t keep up, I can feel secure that a moment of pure physical buffoonery can be as valuable as what others offer.
If you are in Colombia, SC, I hope you will join us for a show. Coming to their shows was a balm during quite difficult years, and now, I can offer my unique weird self for your amusement.
Love this!!!! And you are really funny!!!
Love, Dad