Play Director

He directed the final performance yesterday in a phenomenal way. First
He had me write these peculiar plays about a bunch of old people
living in a retirement building who wanted to be young again. It was
really just about us and the drama group decided to do it, in fact
they decided to do both of the plays I wrote. I played myself, Susie.
There was a little stuffed dog named, little 'white feather', who had
powers and made us all young again for just enough time to realize we
were much happier being who we really were. We played with toys and
carried on, then became teen agers which was even worse. At the end
when we realized how wonderful it was too be who we reallywere living
in the present, Susie said 'we were lucky to have Saint Peter as our
patron'. A lot of what we said was impromptu as none of us could
remember lines or anything and carried the scripts in our hands. I
had a bunch of cards which I got all mixed up and said, 'and we have
our patron, Saint Peter to help us,' before it was time...Someone
said, 'it's too early for Saint Peter, a lot has to happen first' so
when it was time to say the line, I said … 'now can I thank Saint
Peter for taking care of us?' The audience loved it, every word got
lots of applause and lots of laughs out loud. So it turned out to be
pretty spiritual and made a lot of elderly people happy. Who knew?
How He pulled it out of the bag I'll never know. I frankly thought it
was a pretty stupid idea to begin with.
And the play was only one theme in the greater play. They took my
urine sample at the clinic downstairs and found a couple of strains of
staph...or was it strept, anyway something bad so they put me on a
really strong antibiotic, one full something or other every day.
Well, I'm old and frail and just got rid of TB which I brought back
from India. My body hated it and reacted badly with constant
diarrhea, stomach cramps and weakness. I took the shots for three
days...all by myself up here in this little cave of an apartment with
stuff shooting out both ends...sorry for that but I couldn't think of
a less graphic way to write that. They told me the injections
wouldn't be bad and I could still be in the play and sing the opening
song, A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes. The play was on Monday and
I was still really sick on Saturday so I refused the injection on
Sunday because Swami gave me a 'yes' you should try to do the play
and sing.
Even as late as Monday morning I was still telling the director I
couldn't be in it. It wouldn't have been a problem as the director
could have read my lines and someone else could have sung but Swami
had implied I should do it and my sister had asked her 'magic ring'
which agreed with Swami. So I staggered across the street to the
final rehearsal and it was OK. I murmured something about, 'bad dress
rehearsal, good performance' and someone said, 'once the adrenalin
turns on, it will be fine'. Guess who was the adrenalin. Talk about
just being an instrument, this was a perfect example. I was so sick I
could hardly stand up and...never mind about the bodily functions.
But then for the first time we were all ad libbing and enjoying the
whole thing and so did the audience! They broke up when John got down
on the floor playing with his grandson's toy truck. Someone said 'the
miracle was not only that John could get down on the floor but that he
could get up again. The whole thing was Swami's miracle.