IT WASN’T TO BE
I was a lowly 10th Grader who had been talked into trying out for my school play – OEDIPUS REX. Peer pressure coaxed me into submission and I found myself cowering in the back of Mr. Knoblaugh’s French classroom. I did think this culturally “with it” (we used that term a lot in those days) man was cool; however, his ever-present pot belly and preppy blazer with scarf detracted from others reaching the same conclusion. There I sat, with head buried in my arms and lacking the confidence to even raise my noggin from its slouch.
Finally, the dreaded moment arrived: It was my turn to face the glare of those 60 some eyeballs peering into my soul. Stammering away, I “bombed” as the saying goes. Even “sad sack” Leonard gave a passable reading, I concluded.
Tossing and turning in my bed that evening, I replayed the whole sorry debacle. The next morning I slunk my way into view of the OEDIPUS REX cast list posted on the classroom door. Surprise! (no it wasn’t); my name was nowhere on that paper. The loose leaf seemed to be taunting me. Billy Reese’s future in Show Business died right there in the hallway of this Lansdale, PA high school. Needless to say, the broken “Crusader” avoided interactions with friends that day.
Soon I forgot all about my humiliation, and it became – instead – all about complaints as 10th graders are wont to do. Of course, I growled about my Geometry class in the gym, along with 100 of my fellow classmates, ogling for a view of the transparency via the overhead projector (short on Geometry teachers, I guess). Then, I complained about my Latin teacher being too old (Sr. Laetare must have been 100!). And on and on. Meanwhile, rehearsals for the play proceeded (without me) on pace for a cold, February series of performances.
Finally, when the day arrived for the obligatory school assembly, I remember filing into the gym (Geometry classroom gone…poof!). More astonishingly, the chairs for the audience were arranged in a circle with gaps for actor entrances part of the scheme of things.
Then, the play began and it was looong. Actors were heroically exclaiming, clad in flowing costumes with crepe hair and lousy make-up. Everybody was squeaking and “wrutching” (it’s my spelling of a PA Dutch verb) in their seats. In short, Sophocles’ OEDIPUS REX was larger than life. Theatre had reeled me in – hook, line and sinker.
Next time I could summon the courage – I vowed – I would try again. If at first you don’t succeed, …
