Defining Moments

Defining Moments…..

I suppose there are many moments one can pinpoint and say “That really taught me a lesson” or “ I learned a great deal from that person”
Quite often these moments will involve family members…Mum, Dad , Grandparents in particular and of course ones own children. I am blessed in having been married for thirty years and have two wonderful kids of my own.
I could point to many moments when one of them has said or done something and I felt my heart would burst with pride or my love for them would simply overflow. There are other moments, usually infrequent, that have the capacity to change the way one thinks or acts forever. These moments often come from the most innocuous meetings or conversations.
So it was with me.
Until 1989 I had not written much at all, just the odd jottings of a frustrated writer, kept hidden from view for fear of ridicule  I could, however, play the guitar and it was in this capacity that I was asked to perform in a local variety show for charity. I readily agreed and began to practice.
It was not too long before I realised there was a great gulf between playing classical guitar music in ones bedroom and up on the stage in front of six hundred people! In short, I backed out, but felt so guilty I wrote a small comical sketch and performed that with a friend by way of recompense.
During the after show party somebody suggested the company perform a pantomime for the next years show, and hey! Let’s do it for Children in Need. Great Idea with one major flaw….we needed a script.
You can probably guess what happened, whilst heavily inebriated, and in the dark dregs of the night, I volunteered my services as a script writer.
Come black and painful morning I had forgotten my promise…but was forcefully reminded some three months later by the groups Director who rang and asked after the script.
Thus, I had to write…….some sixty pages of typically English pantomime lunacy.
I did it, however, and not only did I write it I also directed it and it was a great success. And therin lies the problem. I became a strutting peacock, looked for praise from everybody and must have been the most terrible boor.
I can look back now and see the faces of other cast members in their true light…I was too blinded by arrogance then….and can only shudder at what they thought.
Help, however, was at hand and from a most unlikely source.
We…. no I…. had decided to do another pantomime for the following year and decided that I would write the script, be the Producer and Director and apart from all that would also select the cast….following rigorous auditions of course! ( What a pompous attitude!)
It was during these auditions that a young man came along, brought by his mother, to audition for anything that was going. He was eighteen years old but with a mental age of seven. Yes, he was mentally retarded and his mother had brought him along hoping to get him involved so that he could be just like everybody else.
Did I welcome him with open arms? Did I hell!! I told the others he would ruin my script and didn’t I have a reputation to uphold? Wasn’t I last years hero? Didn’t my faithful fans have the right to perfection?
I cringe as I write these words, I still cannot believe how sickly arrogant I had become.
My saviour was an angel. An eighteen year old student who I had appointed as my assistant director because she knew how to handle the children (She was a Nursery Nurse).
Against my much misguided judgement she persuaded me to give the lad a chance. I gave him the smallest part possible, no words, no walk on, just a standing part as a tree. His mother was so grateful it brings tears to my eyes as I think about it.
He was very quiet and nervous…again in retrospect frightened to death of me….but donned his costume.. with difficulty ..before each rehearsal.
I began to notice him.
He was always first to turn up and last to leave. He always helped with putting up the set and breaking it down afterwards. He never complained. He looked at me as if I were a God.
I felt the first stirrings of shame. During one of the performances he collided with another tree and a muffled “Sorry” could be heard throughout the hall….it brought the house down.
And so began a slow healing of the soul for me. At the end of the five day run I brought him to the front of the stage for his bow and the reception he got was simply stupendous.
Despite all his problems that boy lived every day as if it were a gift from God, he revelled in the pantomime and I will never, ever forget the look of wonder and awe on his face when he realised all those people were clapping for him.
It changed my whole life and I sincerely hope made me a much more caring, less self opinionated person. The sheer joy and exuberance he exhibited in the simple act of being a tree taught me that we are all gifts from God no matter what our infirmities colour or creed and we should all be treated equally and loved wholeheartedly.
We did two more pantomimes and he starred in both…indeed, in the second I found myself writing a part especially for him.
I understood from his mother that he probably would not live too long as he had heart problems (as if he didn’t have trouble enough!) and I can only hope that I brought a little fun and happiness into his life because he sure as hell changed mine.