I don’t know how I ended up being publisher of the regional LGBTQ news source. I was lucky enough to meet the right people who were doing good in the world; the kind of good I wanted to do. They helped me every step of the way and I am grateful for my life, my career and the incredibly giving souls I have worked with along the way. But it’s not like I grew up watching Ted Koppel and reading the New York Times thinking, this is what I want to do with my life. From as early as I can remember, I wanted to be an actor.
My earliest memory of theater is from kindergarten. I was cast as the youngest sibling in my elementary school’s production of “Peter Pan.” It’s a little fuzzy, but I remember all the girl pirates wanted to capture me when Hook and his gang attacked because they thought I was adorable. I was like a tug-of-war rope for them during rehearsals. As an opening night present, my mom bought me a brand new Smurf sleeper blanket to wear for the show. Everything about that experience was amazing.
As I entered middle school I was more involved with sports than acting. I took drum lessons and ballet after school, but I grew up in Texas so baseball was at the forefront of everyone’s mind. It wasn’t until I moved to Florida and entered Winter Park High School that I began to take theater seriously. My ninth grade drama teacher, Mr. Sayers, was very encouraging and gave me the confidence to keep getting more involved. The first high school production I was in was “Guys and Dolls.” I landed the coveted roles of boxing coach and ensemble gangster. In the opening number, with a towel around my neck and the boxer in tow, I shuffled across the stage. There at center stage, lights on my face and a packed house; I knew this is what I wanted to do for the rest of life. We were barely 30 seconds in on opening night and I was bitten by the theater bug.
It wasn’t just the stage that I loved. It was the people. To me, the stars of the shows were the true elites. I didn’t care much about the quarterbacks and star pitchers. I was all about the thespians. They were kind, funny, talented and so welcoming. My best memories of high school are of theater people, and I love them to this day. Sadly, by my senior year I started to realize something: I wasn’t really good at acting. It didn’t deter me though. I moved on to Mars Hill College in North Carolina seeking my BA in Theater Arts, only this time I was focused on playwriting and stage management. There I was afforded the opportunity to work a summer at the Southern Appalachian Repertory Theater. It was an unforgettable experience that changed the course of my life.
I was introduced to people who dedicated their lives to the performing arts. They worked all day in rehearsals and then performed at night. They did this for three months solid and then moved to the next gig in the next city to do it all again, if they were lucky. Most of them knew each other from previous summers or different theaters around the country, reunited briefly at the seasonal stop. It was clear they worked long hours, nonstop, to excel at their crafts. When I saw up close what professionals in this industry had to do, I realized it wasn’t the path for me — at least not at that time. The commitment was too grand for me. I felt like those who were successful had to give up so much to do what they love. I decided to make my way into the 9-to-5 world and stay in one area.
Although I am not in the performing arts myself, I have never been too far away from it. Central Florida and Tampa Bay have some of the most talented people who give so much of their lives to keep us entertained. They are true artists. They are professionals. We only see them perform, but we must know that they have practiced relentlessly on their skills. They train for years to perfect their craft and now they are hindered by social distancing. What we miss in socialization, they miss with their livelihood. In this issue we dedicated our pages to the arts and entertainment community who are suffering so much in this time of crisis. To the performers, to the ushers, to the concession workers, the box office employees, back stage hands, dancers, artists and everyone affected by event cancellations: we see you and we miss you.
If you have a love of the arts, please do what you can to lend a hand to those who have helped us escape when we needed to, who took us out of our worlds and into their imaginations. Buy art work, donate to the theaters, watch online performances.
We strive to bring you a variety of stories, your stories. I hope you enjoy this latest issue.
