Shakespeare on the Sound

Every year at this time, one of the things I most look forward to is heading out to see one of the wonderful local companies performing Shakespeare at an outdoor venue. By far, my favorite of these is a company that self-descriptively calls itself Shakespeare On The Sound. The company itself is talented and features many professional actors from the New York stage, and the production values, staging, etc., are top notch. The park in which they hold their productions is a spectacular setting, with a gentle slope heading down toward the stage and harbored shore, facing southwest. What this means is that, just as the production starts, the audience often gets a view of the setting sun and twilight, just slightly off stage right. It's a magical place in which to see the works of the Bard. This year, it was to be even more magical, as they were preforming A Midsummer Night's Dream, and they were introducing a new staging feature, a meandering ramp that was built out into the seating area to bring the performances even closer to the audience.

I had been looking forward to it for months, and then as the performance dates came, so did the rain. Before I realized it, it was the last week of the 2-1/2 week performance calendar, and I had to work quickly to galvanize a few friends into heading down there for the only date we all were able to go. So Friday, as the day promised yet more thunderstorms, I was determined that the weather wasn't gong to dampen my determination to see this show. After all, their policy is that, unless it is raining hard at the 7:30 start time, the show will go on. Even though it had rained every day the week before, they had managed to put on four performances out of six. We all had arranged to bring our contributions to a potluck picnic dinner, and the air was warm and pleasant. Around 2 PM, I got a letter from one member of our merry troupe, telling me that it was pouring out where he was, relatively near our venue, so he was probably going to cancel. As I read it, however, I was some 25 miles away and looking at blue skies. So, I popped up my IM and did my best to convince him the the show would go on. I sent out an email to everyone, stating the theater company's rain policy. One of my friends affirmed, that yes, she had been there once as rain broke out, and as most people fled to their cars, the rain suddenly stopped and the show went on, to much applause.

I checked the Weather Channel, and it didn't look quite so promising. The approaching squalls looked pretty self-contained, but it was big, and still extended quite a ways to the west. It was definitely going to hit, and hard. So the question was, would they be over in time for the show to go on? Should I drive all that distance just to get rained out. And if it was rained out, then what would we do?

What ensued became its own little comedy of frantic phone calls and hastily made contingencies, much of which went on while I was in my car, slogging through a torrential thunderstorm, and, although just about everyone was ready to bail, we were unable to find a consensus on an alternative plan. In the meantime, I could see a lightening in the western sky (as opposed to the lightning which as blazing to the east). Dammit, I was certain the show would go on, and that's what I wanted to do!

Alas, I couldn't find anyone else willing to still head there, and I kept imagining how I'd feel sitting there on my lawn chair on the saturated ground, watching the show all by myself. After driving 20+ miles and for 45 minutes in this driving rain, at just about the geographic point of no return, I finally allowed one of my friends to convince me to bring my picnic supper to her house instead, some 20 miles in another direction, into rush hour traffic, toward neither home nor the park. As I did, I felt defeated.

No sooner was I on the highway, heading east into black skies and wild streaks of lightning, I looked into my rear view mirror and could see the edge of the squall. Within minutes, I could see the low-slung sun peeking out in the clearing skies. By the time I got to my friend's house, its reflection off the wet pavement was making driving difficult, and I was looking above at patches of blue. I found myself mentally scrolling through the past and present, lovers and friends, for those who might have been willing to take that chance and meet me in the park, and they were few and far between. Sigh.