Curtain

I woke up this morning with no metaphorical cage constricting my chest, no knots in my stomach. I've been walking around emitting contented sighs.

The Glass Menagerie has ended its run.

No other production I've worked on has more aggressively exhibited the dichotomy of the tawdriness and the transcendence of the theatre as this one has. Every day presented us with some new and unforeseen obstacle to thwart, from illness to absence, from negligent management to (am I being paranoid?) outright sabotage.

But our company fought on, and in the face of all the bad things, something wonderful happened. Our audiences loved what we were doing. They seemed to be unaware of the random technical glitches that could and did occur in each night's performance, or they simply didn't care because the actors were so right for the play, so good in their roles, and each one of them luminous.

We filled the house each night we performed until, finally, we had to turn people away since there was no longer any standing room available.

I'm proud of what we accomplished. It probably really was good.