Yes, it's true that Mom, Dad and I went to see the current Broadway production of Hair on the Saturday that they dropped me off. It was probably one of the best experiences I've had on Broadway, and those of you who know me well know what this means since my status as a Musical Theater Person has always been shaky at best. This was a little different from my other Good Theater Experiences*, though, since the play itself had relatively little to do with it (although it was really amazingly good, and more on that in a second).
Forty years ago on the same weekend, Dad got dropped off at Princeton and then drove up to New York with some friends to see Hair. This was the summer of '69, which seems to be coming up a lot recently and we celebrate the 40th anniversary of a lot of things like the landing of Apollo 11, the Stonewall Riots, Woodstock, and (selfishly) the beginning of coeducation at Princeton. More immediately, though, it was a great family moment, and we took a lot of pictures outside the theater before heading in.
The show was great. Sasha Allen, as Dionne, had the kind of voice that actually made me want to be able to sing. (My non-abilities had previously been something I'd resigned myself to.) Will Swenson, who played Berger, was phenomenally good (and annoying, but that was as is should be), but halfway through he hurt his ankle and his understudy had to take over. That was disappointing, but actually very interesting as well since his performance was also quite good, but it was a totally different interpretation. I would have liked to see his first act Berger some time, since that's when the character has the most to do.
The last song, apparently, was infused with hope and Country Joe and the Fish style logic ("How do you expect to stop the war if you can't sing any better than that?") when the musical opened. Now, however, the show has become more somber, benefiting from 20/20 hindsight and the edginess of modern staging. The finale was no exception, and although I tend to like first acts better than second acts of shows, I would happily pay full price to go back and see Hair again just for the last fourteen minutes.
Dad cried. I cried. I totally know where I got it from.
The three of us poured out of the theater with high spirits and proceeded to a bar where we could talk about the performance. If any of you get a chance to go see Hair on Broadway, I can't recommend it enough.
So. Fast forward to September 30th. Mom sends me an e-mail with a New York Times link to an article about the cast of Hair canceling a performance to attend the National Equality March on Washington. About ten seconds later I got on Facebook and noticed that Princeton was sending a bus to the event and signed up, along with Roommate J, who although she doesn't have as much interest in the cause of LGBT rights (see my crazy long post / mission statement from Friday, April 17, 2009), cares about it nonetheless and wanted to participate in a good old Washingtonian rally before she graduated.
And that's what we did yesterday. At 5:15 we woke to our respective alarm clocks, dressed stealthily so as not to wake CC and HaHa, and headed out to the meeting place. It was very cold, and my dumb Midwestern Punctuality Clock (which I love 99% of the time) had us there ten minutes early so we were the second people to arrive and the first to lose feeling in our noses, fingers, and toes from exposure. The bus finally arrived and we scrambled into the warmth. With us were 51 other Princetonians (and some friends of Princetonians) and there were about 20 people driving in other cars. I dozed off and on on the way, when I wasn't eating my bagel, trying to do some reading for class, and keeping my eye out so I could wave at the Baltimore Aquarium as we drove past.
The bus driver dropped us off at Dupont Circle, and we walked to the D.C. headquarters of Marriage Equality New York, where we got lovely, free, orange t-shirts and umbrellas. Then we met up with the people who came in the cars and walked over to our staging area at 15th and I where the student groups were gathering. It was insanely crowded, and we stood there for about an hour before we finally got to begin marching.
Then things got rolling. The route took us past the Old Executive Office Building and the White House where we yelled hello to Michelle Obama ('85). She may or may not have heard us.
It was great to be marching with Princeton behind an enormous Princeton banner, especially when people sitting and watching along the parade route would all of a sudden jump up and yell, "Hey! Hey! I was class of '05!" "Hey! I graduated in '78!" "This is so great, guys, this would never have happened when I was at Princeton." That was nice, and I actually felt more school spirit all day long at the march and rally than I've ever felt on campus. It was also great that there were 70+ of us. We ran into Harvard and there were about four of them. Distance was a factor, sure, but University of Vermont was there with tons of people so...I'll let you draw your own conclusions about The Best Ivy.
Roommate J and I took a mid-afternoon trip to the National Gallery to get food and enjoy air conditioning. There we saw lots of other people with march-related shirts relaxing and basking in the good feeling of the day. After a while we decided to head to the RFK Stadium where the other Princeton people and our bus would be meeting at 6:00. Supposedly. The Princeton people showed up pretty much on time (East Coast on time), but it was 8:15 before the bus actually came. This would have been irritating on any other day, but everyone was still so pumped that we had a great time sitting on the scratchy strip of grass by the huge parking lot and chatting. Even people who didn't know each other before and who hung out in different groups (and at Princeton this means a lot) were nattering away with other people. It was a good feeling.
At the end I took the list I was carrying in the back of my pocket--the one where I had written the names of the people I was marching for: real people like Intern T and fictional people like Tim Bayliss--and used it to do some origami.
I don't really have a summing-up statement of any kind, and I feel that I should, since I'm back in the land of You Must Write Meaningful Conclusions. I'll just thank the cast of Hair, and say that I still stand by everything I wrote on Friday, April 17. Except I'd like to add that that march was the taste of activism I needed. Writing is still my most cherished form of expression, but visibility matters, and the more bodies at these kind of rallies the better. There were upwards of 100,000 people at the Capitol yesterday. Let me know next time you need me, and I'll be there.
*The best theater experiences I've ever had:
The History Boys in London, followed by a three-day long conversation with my parents about it. The conversation is actually still going on, now that I think about it.
Doubt, with Cherry Jones, in Chicago. There are no words to describe what a great play that was. One thing I can put into words, though is that there was NO INTERMISSION AND THAT'S THE WAY IT SHOULD BE.
Broadway runner up:
August: Osage County last January. There's nothing like three hours of what feels like verbal assault and then wishing it could go on for three more hours.
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