Movement

"JOE. Stew, this place was a bomb way before the one that dropped in here tonight. I may not be a genius, but I know what I know, and this is not the time and place for a theatre. All you had to do was look at--or crawl over--the face of the guy who ran the place. Heartbroken and bitter.

STEW. He dedicated his life to this.

JOE. Exactly. And we survived, and he didn't. Whatever they gave us we lived through it: poison, sterilization, DDT, you name it, we beat it; not by jerking each other off in the name of theatre. This place? On the evolutionary scale, it thrived for maybe a second. Less.

STEW. But that's why we'd do better.

JOE. Stew, we're talking survival of the fittest, not survival of the artistic!"

-- The two post-apocalyptic roaches in "Joe and Stew's Theatre of Brotherly Love and Financial Success," by Jacquelyn Reingold

--

It's official: this children's theatre is moving its office space.

The decree came down yesterday (or the day before) after negotiations with our current landlord fell through. We lease the second floor of this building from a local technology/parts business. Rent, we were told, had been raised by 40%. After some back-and-forth with the higher-ups downstairs, the raise had dropped to 10%. In the meantime, our directors had selected a new office location that would match--not raise--our current rent, freeze it for five years, and remodel the interior to our specifications.

This, friends, is a significant victory for TCTC.

--

The current home discourages our existence: We are at the butt-end of a bad street, across from what might be an insurance building, around the block from some major construction. Parents often complain that the children's theatre is in such an incovenient and unsafe part of town. The new location is fifteen minutes up a highway (triple that in the afternoons) in a much more mainstream environment. Rather than splitting floors with a failing computer company, we will share a shell with a growing realty group.

Additional perks include a bigger parking lot and paid maintenance crews.

--

Plans for the big move are under way. Pre-move movement is scheduled for next Tuesday, when caravans of TCTC staff will move a bunch of free furniture out of storage and into our summer camp facility.

While lifting heavy things in the doldrums of summer isn't an appealing thought, the end goal is. Theatre folks love to play at martyrdom, but a few worldly comforts never hurt anyone. Even fervent saints kneel on pillows.

And of course, we're thinking of the children.

--

The cat is out of the pad. Moved back out this morning.

We had a climactic tussle after she squeezed past my ankles into my bedroom, bounding onto my pillows and making a dash for the open closet door. I pursued. She sprang over my hamper and under my desk. I scampered. She balked at the closet again and I sprawled. The welcome mat in the foyer flew sideways in folds as she skated past onto the hardwood kitchen floor, where she settled under the dining room table. I shut doors to cut off exits. I knelt and out of the kitchen she went. And so on, through the living room and into the bathroom, where I finally snagged her between tub and toilet.

By that time I was so uppity from the chase that I had no idea what to do with this cat in my hands. Her heart chugged inside her and her lungs buffeted beneath the fur. I set her on the floor and she plodded away, tail raised in flippant poise.

--

This week has seen a world in flux, talks of entrances and exits: power plays of this stage. Players should always remember to have fun. As Stoppard wrote, "Life in a box is better than no life at all."

Movement implies purpose, of one sort or other. But before you exit, figure out where you're going.