from BJ Jones, Artistic Director
Somewhere between the letter accepting our daughter Michaela to University of Dayton and the long drive back from taking her there for her freshman year, Candy and I realized that we were going to be alone together for the first time since our first child was born in 1982. Like the protagonists in Snapshots, we were facing an entirely different life. We didn’t even replace Baxter, our last dog; no goldfish, no cat, and until our son Cameron came home from school and left his Boa Constrictor in the spare bedroom for a year, leaving me to feed it frozen rats, Candy and I were alone in the house we bought to accommodate the three kids.
Doubtless many of you have either experienced this or are about to and it’s a soul searching moment in your life. You ask yourself big questions: where are you headed, individually or together? Is work enough? Or the dark question, how much time is left and what is remaining on your bucket list? Add to that the global questions of economic stability both here and abroad, and the chilling notion that the life you left your children includes a bankrupt country and a world in turmoil ready to erupt in a seizure of fear and international resentment. Did you do enough for them? Will you be a burden for them? Do they even like you as they achieve adulthood, or do you get along with them?
Are you the person you thought you were going to turn out to be? What can you do to evolve into that person? Or did you even create a blueprint for your self that has either become a satisfying reality, or dried up and left unfinished? I didn’t have a blueprint other than to support myself, Candy and the kids, and that plan informed my decision to stay in Chicago where an actor could support himself and pursue his art with a quality of life unmatched in the country. That environment has changed, of course, but it’s still an ideal place to balance your life and art in a meaningful way.
In Snapshots our protagonists are struggling with the question of untangling themselves and going their own way. Surrounded by memories and memorabilia, the inevitable questions strike at the heart of their commitment, and as they spend the twilight in their attic, the questions become louder and more insistent. The story, laced with Stephen Schwartz’s music, rings familiar and haunting and you will perhaps find yourself tracing your own journey.
Candy and I, by the way, are still in the house we bought for the kids; we walk their dogs, and Ruby the Red Tailed Boa is gone (thank God). Michaela stopped by for dinner last night on her way home from work. Cameron, who gets married to his high school sweetheart this Fall, will stop by today and Keely brings her dog, who is named after me, to spend weekends “in the country.” In fact, we babysit all our kids’ and friends’ dogs. Candy walks their paws off and they end up sleeping with us, whether they do that with their owners or not. We are answering our questions on a daily basis, and the answers are satisfying and validating. The bucket list is growing, not getting shorter, and I suspect the healthy answer for many might be to keep making lists. Maybe you feel the same way.
