I wrote the play.  Every action onstage was in a stage direction or blocking note that I wrote.  Every prop, set piece, lighting change, the very set itself was there because I said that it should be there. Even the clothes that the actors wore were being worn because I said so in the costume plot.

And yet, when the show went up on opening night, it was something that I had never seen before.

The show was co-directed by me and my friend Casey McDougal. Casey is b beautiful young woman in all respects, and she is a wonderful and insightful actor. Consequently, on this, her directing debut, she proved to be a dynamic, enthusiastic and vibrant director.

We cast the show on January 6.  We had about thirty-five actors show up for nine roles.  The main character in the show is a seventy-one year old man. When I entered the theater on the first night for auditions, I looked in to the crowd of actors, and there must have been a dozen older men sitting there. The aromas of Ben Gay and Dentu-Crème were everywhere.

After two nights of auditions, Casey and I got together with our notes and cast the show. It was pretty easy.  Casey and I see eye to eye on everything from theatre to politics to good times to beer. We even like much of the same music, which is a bit odd since I am about to turn 58, and she is a mere babe in arms if 26 years.

 The only place that we really differ is our diets. I am a dyed-in-the-wool flesh –eater, and Casey has been a staunch vegan for over three years. (But she’s a GOOD vegan. Know what I mean? I mean, she doesn’t wear it on her sleeve and go around with a bullhorn decrying we misguided omnivores while throwing blood in our faces.  I’ve known some vegans like that.  Casey is different. She has her convictions, and she quietly lives by them.  If somebody asks about her diet, she’ll explain it.  But there is no preaching. No pontificating. No fire, brimstone and damnation. I respect that…a lot.) AND she likes Certified Gold Lager from The Main Street Café almost as much as I do.

Anyway, during the auditions, we sat next to each other and watched old man after old man after old man get up on the stage and cold read from the script. And most of them were very, very good.

Then, this one young man climbed up on the stage.  He was auditioning for one of the younger roles, and he was . . . more than good.  When he had been up there for about five minutes, I turned to Casey and said, “Glen’s good, isn’t he?”

Casey nodded. “I think he would make a great Tom or Bill, don’t you?” she asked.

I said, “Yes. He would. But, I watch him and think of him as Charlie (the old man character).

Casey replied with, “You’re kidding! Really?”

I asked her to watch.  She did, and after a couple of minutes, her mouth dropped open, she grabbed my arm and blurted out, “Oh my GOD!” (Casey does a lot of blurting.)

We had our Charlie. 

Our 71-year-old main character was going to be played by a 28-year-old actor.

Sometimes, in theatre as well as in life, it pays to think “out of the box” from time to time.

When the auditions came to a close, Casey and I got together to cast the show . . . and we were finished in three minutes.  Two nights of auditions yielded over thirty actors.  But Casey and I were on the same page with every single one of the nine slots available.

The ease of casting was just a precursor as to how the relationship between us and the relationships among all the cast and crew were going to progress.

It was, as Mary Ellen said, a magical experience right from the start.

(Performance rights and scripts for Blessed Event are available from JAC Publishing and Promotions at www.jacpub.com. Individual scripts are for sale on Amazon.com)

(More to come.)