This past weekend was Katie’s high school production of Our Town, in which she was cast as Mrs. Webb (the mother of Emily, who marries George Gibbs, and who dies. Emily, that is.)

As you know, the play is ideally performed with only the simplest sets (a trellis being the only representative object, with chairs and tables and perhaps a set of ladders doing the rest) and no props. Such was the case here, and that was the most challenging and frustrating aspect of the part to Katie – having to pantomime making biscuits or snapping and stringing beans in this…space. She had a very hard time at first, but eventually got it and was actually rather proud of what she did.

The whole company did an excellent job – the Stage Manager was split between two senior girls who happen to be twin sisters. They didn’t play it as twins in any cute kind of manner at all, but the lines were split in an effective quasi-dialogical sort of way.

Katie is only following in her grandfather’s footsteps, my father, who played Dr. Gibbs in his high school production down there in Paris, Texas, lo those many years ago. He was proud of her too, and I only wish I had the photos I’ve seen in his old high school yearbook and I could scan and post.

I hadn’t seen or read the play in probably twenty years or so, and was immediately struck by the mention of the Poles and other foreigners with their Catholic Church on that side of the railroad tracks, as well as hearing Mount Monadnock mentioned, a place name I’m used to hearing mentioned by my New Hampshire born and bred husband, who happens to be half Polish, too.

I must say that when I first saw this play – probably the 1977 version mentioned here, starring Hal Holbrook as the State Manager, it hit me as it probably hits most adolescent girls, as they see themselves as Emily up there on the stage, as incredibly life-affirming, in the ringing call to notice – just notice – the preciousness of everyday life. But this time – I don’t know. This time I heard the cemetery residents speak more loudly, and what they said seemed if not misogynistic or totally cynical…perhaps just touched a little more by that than I remembered.

It is also interesting to watch your daughter play a mother – especially a brusque, busy mother like Mrs. Webb –  onstage. After all…how does she know how to act as a mother? Hmmm…..

Anyway, Mrs. Webb says hello from the left, in her costume – a blouse and skirt that put us back $4.97 total at the Salvation Army store. That’s done. Next role: dama. That’s right. And this may end up being just as much work as Our Town: they spent two hours today learning how to waltz….