Dear March
Letters written to you Dear Correspondent as a glimpse into my life through the month of March.
Dear Correspondent - March 9th, 2024
I spent the first week of March dealing with a tremendously annoying and painful skin…allergy?
I guess allergy or reaction or some such word would be accurate in describing what I experienced. Ages ago when I took a job at a medical magazine and broke out in a bad acne flare up from the stress. I was prescribed a steroid cream from a dermatologist who couldn’t care less about me and I’ve been using it off and on since then.
Recently I was using it quite often and then suddenly stopped using it.
This triggered what is called Topical Steroid Withdrawal.
Itchy. Painful. Annoying. And lasting. It caused a terrible acne like rash as my skin shed the side effects of the steroid cream. It was terrible.
March 16th, 2024
We opened last night.
Eleven weeks of choreography, madness, late nights, memories, and some of the most incredibly talented kids in the world all came together to create a magical opening night.
Of all the shows I’ve been part of, I’m most surprised that this show came together. From issues with tech, only running the show once during tech week, and so many other little details, I was stressed about how well it would actually come together for opening.
But that’s the magic of theater. No matter how rough the rehearsal process is or now hellish tech week goes, it comes together. It always does.
One show down. Five more to go.
March 18th, 2024
The first weekend of Beauty and the Beast performances are complete. That means there are only three more shows to go.
Three more shows before I tell the kids goodbye.
I’m not sure what it is, but this show's ending feels different. I always get the post show blues after the final performance. It’s easy to do because you go from seeing these people every day to not at all…it’s a beautiful and tragic process all at the same time.
But there’s something about this show that feels a little more final.
I don’t think I’ll choreograph another show at this high school for one thing. I’ve accepted a full time job at work that will officially start in July, I don’t think I’ll have time to do a show during the day and work full time. I also don’t think I’ll be involved in another show for a while. I have so many other things I want to do in my life that it’s hard to focus on them and theater at the same time. I need to narrow down my focus and really go after my true dreams which might mean giving up some of my theater experiences.
Then there are the seniors involved in this show.
This is the fifth show I’ve done with one in particular and the second I’ve done with most of the others.
I’ve seen them grow, change, struggle, overcome, and thrive at their craft.
I’m probably more emotionally connected with them than I should be as their choreographer. But I’m so utterly proud of them and it breaks my heart knowing this show may be the last I ever do with them. Or worse, the last I ever see of them.
They’re going off to college. Most aren’t even planning on pursuing theater once they leave.
And having moved off myself and broken up a friend group, I fear what growing up will do to the connections these kids have with each other. I see how much fun they have and how much joy they experience through their friendships and I know it is inevitable that those connections are going to dissipate once they go off to college. That breaks my heart.
And so this show feels like a true finale.
The ending, or at least temporary closure, to my theater chapter. I’m shifting directions and moving more towards my art and building projects. The ending to my relationships with these kids and the possible ending to their relationships with each other.
Which is why any time I think about the last performance coming up on the 24th I start getting teary.
Say it isn’t so…
March 29th, 2024
Ah the end of March grows nigh.
In a blink so much time can pass and again I face a new ending.
The show closed. It’s been almost a week. I still haven’t gotten over it. I’ve been avoidant distracting myself from facing the reality of time passing on. I was right. I cried. Quite a bit actually. Before the final show. During the final show. After the final show. One of the kids after the final curtain told me he’d seen me out there dabbing my eyes with a tissue during bows.
Indeed I was and I was in good company. There wasn’t a single dry eye amongst the cast. I’m tearing up just thinking about it.
It’s hard to believe how at the beginning of the process I was so incredibly stressed and complained about everything. I told my family to never let me do a high school show again. But here I am eleven weeks later tearing up because I miss the entire thing already.
Shows are a lot of hard work. There’s so much time and energy that goes into them. And I’ll be honest, I’m a lot more involved than any other choreographer I know. Part of me wonders if that’s because I long to be in the show, which is partially true, but I also believe it’s because I see the value in pouring into others.
If I show up and work hard, maybe I’ll be able to inspire someone else to do the same not only in the show but in other areas of life. If I can be there for someone when they need encouragement or a shoulder to cry on or a hand to hold, none of my time was wasted.
I cannot imagine not being involved as I am with these shows that I choreograph. The one show I did where I didn’t feel any connection to the cast was one of the worst theater experiences I’ve had.
Community is vital to the process and you’ll never find me abandoning a cast because I already got the job done and I’m moving on.
I’m in it till the very end and I wouldn’t miss it for the world.
What a special show and cast. I marvel at the talent that I was able to witness during these past weeks. The growth I saw when people were challenged with choreography was inspiring. Some people truly take it in stride and then make it their own. To see the commitment and passion some possess to make the show everything it can be and more is what makes me smile thinking back on the process.
That and all the funny on stage moments. Like falling up stairs, losing winding handles, and so many other little things that go into making the process fun.
I’ll never forget this show. It’s certainly been a special time and I can confidently say it’s been my favorite production I’ve been involved in to date.
Until Next Time,
Lillian Merritt
