O'Shaughnessy

(Note to readers to whom I’m not related: this one gets sappy, and rather Minnesota specific.  If that’s not your cup of tea, feel free to skip it.)

O’Shaughnessy Auditorium is an important performing arts venue in the Minneapolis-St. Paul area.  Sure, it doesn’t really have the historic value that the State, Orpheum or Pantages do in Downtown Minneapolis, or the producing power of the Ordway in St. Paul, or even the state sponsorship of Northrop Auditorium at the University of Minnesota.  But it’s a big, boxy (on the outside), purple (on the inside) theater that houses dance, music, spoken word, performance and the occasional play.  And, apparently, Theatreworks tours.

As we drove up in the van (and, mind you, it’s extremely odd to drive around your hometown in a Theatreworks Sprinter van, surrounded by NYC-based friends), it all came flooding back: the dozens of Zenon Dance Company performances I’d seen there, Christopher Watson Dance and their genre-bending shows, Ragamala Music and Dance Theater, the school trips to see visiting arts groups (perhaps Theatreworks?), the international musical troupes… it was odd how after nearly a decade away from the space, I still recognized its very specific, extremely clean smell.

We loaded in, with our helpful crew (who chided us relentlessly for our gloves, hats, scarves and coats; it was 12° and windy) and I marveled once again at how huge the stage is.  Staring at those purple seats, I saw a nine year-old Ethan mesmerized as his Modern teacher John Munger slowly spun across the stage in a tattered sweater at a Zenon Winter Show.  Glancing into the wings, there was Carol Huncik, who trusted me enough to put a piece of choreography I developed as a teenager into a Choreographer’s Evening at the Walker Arts Center, giving me a clandestine wave before her big entrance in her first solo concert, lo these many years ago.  I strode downstairs to the dressing room and saw James Sewell, straightjacket and magic cane in hand, stretching on a barre while the Theatre de la Jeune Lune crew, now disbanded, did their extensive physical and vocal warm-ups in the nearby greenroom.

As David made his announcement and the lights faded, I peeked out from behind my flat and saw more faces: real faces this time.  The folks had assembled a group of a dozen friends – everyone from old babysitters, family friends and neighbors to one of my prom dates, my dad’s coworker and my mom’s tennis partner – and they were sitting front row, stage left. The music started, and Matt and I wheeled our way onstage.  The rest is a bit of a blur.

I still get nervous performing in front of my parents, probably because it happens so rarely.  But, for whatever reason, this show wasn’t nearly as bad.  Maybe because of the material, maybe because of the cast, but probably because my mind was focused on the odd importance that this performance was taking on in my mind.  It felt strangely full-circle, as a bunch of squealing little kids took my old place in the auditorium and I, somewhat older and wiser, took my mentors’ places onstage and off.

Post show, I said hello to my assembled fans (another first: I’ve never had an “entourage” before!) and struck the set with the cast.  My parents got a chance to see a little bit of load out and, after peeking inside the van’s seating compartment, I am sure they now think I’m moderately insane.  The rest of the company fled to the Mall of America after the show, since it’s one of those things you should do when in Minnesota, and I went to lunch with my parents.  At lunch, Mom just couldn’t help herself, “How cool is it that you were up there on the O’Shaughnessy stage?!”  And I couldn’t help but agree.  For all the odd stages and ice-covered stairs and weeks of repeated time zone changes, it’s the days like this that keep bringing me back.

Call tomorrow: 9am, Days Inn, Traverse City, MI.  Showtime once again!

Kid Quote of the Day: Without fail, every single time anybody said the word “pee,” the entire audience shouted “Eww.”

Adult Quote of the Day: One of the crew members, as I stood there looking like Randy from A Christmas Story: “Yeah, you’re in Minnesota now.”