Do Yourself a Favour Make Young Friends ... Your kids Will Thank You For It!

    As you may recall I began a journey last year.   What I have now come to see less as an educational journey and more of a spiritual journey.  I went back to school.  I went back to better myself, to show my kids that is never to late to fix a past mistake.  I knew for years that I needed to go back to post secondary, but I allowed my self to shut the door, and to lock it tight.  I didn't have time, I had little kids.  We could not afford to pay back the loans (it's easier to think like this than to look at it for the investment that it actually is).  I would look and feel like an idiot, as someone old enough to be most of my classmates mom.  It was the latter excuse that really held me captive from my dream.

   

    It was the best decision I have made this decade (other than deciding to have Elly that is)!  The growth that I have experienced has been exponential.  I have learned "things", lots of new and interesting book things.  My biggest learning growth has been as a human being.  All too often we put ourselves into a box.  We as humans need to make sense of the world, and so we need to label it, and put it into a neat and tidy box / category.  We go to public school and we make friends.  We go high school we learn new things and decide what we really think we would like to be when we grow up.  This is where we really begin to box ourselves get into the rigid category.  We become a label, a jock, a nerd, a dork, a goth, artsy... you get it.  We learn about the opposite sex and the games and rules around that (majority of the time they are found to be in our bubble category).  We learn that although a heart can break in ways that feel irreparable, but that like every wound it will heal... it may leave a bit of a scar, but it will heal.  We learn how to balance school, dating, friends and we jump into part time jobs.  We go to work or we go to post secondary.  Here we learn skills that pertain to our future selves.  We make friends, we go into dating 201 the next level.  We might toy with serious romance and what that means, maybe it means moving away from home and in with a partner.  Each these levels in life is a step.  You don't go back, you go forward.  

    Life becomes so much about living in that linear line, that colouring within the lines that we don't think about it.  It is just life.  We continue to live in our box, and we put others into easy to understand boxes.  We view the world from our point, and we don't consider that life may look different if we just allowed ourselves to look at it from a different vantage point.  We climb up each step of the ageing/ life journey, always looking ahead.  To look behind or to the side would be foolish and counter productive.  Always traveling in that linear line, there may be tiny bends, but we continue along that path until we reach old age.  We take everything that we have learned from our vantage point along that path to be gospel.  Our way of looking at the world is the correct way, hasn't life taught us that?

    Here is what college has taught me so far.  Life does not look the way that you perceive it to.  Perception is not absolute reality, only your limited scope of reality.  There are so many twists and turns that are safe to take if we just allow ourselves to take that risk.  Failure is just an opportunity to become a better person, if you allow it to be.  Here is the best lesson that I have learned, age and experience does not make you an expert.  There are no such things as experts, only people that have learned more, but can still learn more again.  By allowing yourself to stay in that self imposed box, you are doing yourself such a huge disservice, you are doing your soul a disservice.  

    The "idea" of college was terrifying, because it represented the unknown.  I would have to step outside of my comfortably constructed box.  That box that was labeled in permanent ink that said "Mother, Wife, Middle Aged, Middle Class, Adult Woman".  My  box instructions stated that I could only associate with people within my life category.  I needed to play nice with all of the other categories, but I could only associate within my categorical listing.  Had I allowed myself to be persuaded by fear to stay in that rigid box.  That box has now been broken down and set aside for recycling.  I am so much more than just a rigid box.  There are so many people who are experts, experts in their own life experience and they have so much to teach me.

    As the mother of teens it is easy to decide that I am an expert on all things teen, after all I was one once upon a time.  I would not have been alone in this thinking, so many of us think this way.  It is that same thinking as to how good today's generation have it, and that they got it all on our backs.  Our way was the right way.  To clarify, this is dysfunctional thinking I have come to realize.  It is this dysfunctional thinking, at least I believe that creates that chasm that exists between parents and their teens.  Today's kids don't have it easier, or worse, it's different.  Their category rules are not the same as mine were.  Their rules are different, and I have to work hard to understand them.  To allow myself to create "us" and "them" categories, would be a disservice to my children, but more even to myself.  

    The young adults in my class are my equals, and in many ways they are my superiors.  They have so many things to teach me, if I allow myself to be open to their teaching.  They are experts in the field of teens / young adults.  They allow me to glimpse into that strange and wonderful world of today's teen, and to better understand my own teens.  They are teaching me the new social rules that my children live by.  I am growing intellectually, and spiritually because these "friends" are in my life.  It seems odd to say that as a gulp 47 year old woman I have 20 year old friends, but I do.  I am blessed and privileged that they allow me into their world and are as open and kind to me as they are. By recycling that box I built for myself I am able to see the world differently, better.  I can see from so many vantage points now, and this will make be a better mother, and a better human being.

The Gift of Tweed and Company Theatre / Aleck Bell

https://tweedandcompany.com

    Sometimes I feel like I am a broken record.  I am blessed.  I am blessed in so many ways, too many to even begin to list the multitude of ways.  I say I feel like a bit of a broken record, but can you be too thankful?  Can you have too many blessings?  I don't think so, I feel like it is by acknowledging the blessings that you have, that you bring more into your life.

    You may be asking yourself what I am thankful for today.  I am thankful that I am able to live in a beautiful rural setting that still allows me the pleasures of big city living.  Although I am blessed, I am also a woman of fine tastes.  I like life's little luxuries and I bask in them.  I am able to live in two worlds.  One world is my rural community that feeds my sense of being a part of something that is bigger than myself, and nurtures my soul.  I live where almost everyone knows my name, and in that I feel cared for by my community, I am something larger than just myself.  I still live in a place where when your neighbour needs help, you roll up your sleeves and you dig in.  We work for the greater good of all.  Often times you must surrender the finer things in life to achieve this sense of community.  I am, and my community is most fortunate that one of Tweed's sons shares this sense of community, and although like so many of our young people he had to leave our little piece of heaven to make his way in his chosen career, he is still fighting to live with a leg in both worlds.

    This year Tweed and Company Theatre (formerly IANA) celebrates 10 years of making our community a better place.  I have been most fortunate to watch Tim Porter in his uphill struggle to do what he loves in the place that he loves.  I have sat in the crowd, that was less crowd and more small group to watch his amazing productions.  I have watched as he put on his brave, smiling face but inside he must have been questioning fighting to bring Canadian written and produced theatre to a place that did not have the vision to receive it.  I have seen the struggle that so many rural Canadians live, working to live and at the same time working for pennies to do what your soul needs.  I am so proud of Tim.  He could have given up on his dream, a few years ago I thought that he might.

   It has been a privilege to watch this brave yet struggling theatre company achieve the almost unachievable, they are filling the seats.  They have turned the corner.  Hastings the Musical has secured Tweed and Company Theatre a seat at the big kids table.  They always had the talent, that was never in question, now they have people seeing the talent and recognizing it.

    Wednesday, September 19 Tweed and Company will bring back another classic Canadian tale that they have reworked.  I was most fortunate to see Aleck Bell the first time around.  This was in the earlier days, when there was this amazingly talented group of young actors who were killing themselves with talent and were not being appreciated.  It was around the time that I thought that Tim may just give up because he was not receiving the community's support.  I remember how blown away I was by the insane talent, and looking around at all of the empty seats.  I was so angry.  I was so angry that we had this gift and people were not coming in droves to take part in supporting this amazing theatre company.  It was shortly after this that IANA took a hiatus, I can't say I blame them.  I felt their hurt.  Here they were committing blood, sweat and tears not to mention their souls and their hard earned money into these original Canadian productions and to have no support.  I wanted to weep for them.  

http://themiddleagedwomanwholivedinashoe.blogspot.com/search/label/IANA%20Theatre

I am not going to reinvent the wheel, I have posted the link to my original blog about this insanely talented group of actors.  They are now a little older, a little wiser and if possible even more talented.  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z-ZbXvh9_F8

    Today as I count my blessings I count Tweed Theatre Company among them.  I live in the place I love, and I am able to see theatrical productions that are equal to anything that I have seen in the big city, and I don't have leave this little piece of heaven.  That is a blessing.

   Aleck Bell is playing from the 19 to 29th of September in Ontario's last Dance Pavilion that overlooks Stoco Lake in Tweed.  The setting is beautiful and the production is beautiful.  The cost of admission is a paltry $25 for adults and $15 for students.  If you really want to make this a night to remember and you have a little extra pocket change, treat yourself to some amazing home cooked, top quality food and visit one of the Company's sponsors http://www.kellysrestaurant.ca.  Their food is amazing and the prices are extremely reasonable(it's a small family run restaurant that brings quality, so I recommend a reservation).  Trust me at the end of the night your bank account will not be worse for wear, but your soul will soar.

Celebrating a Quarter of a Century

    Quarter of a century, is a long time. Through those 25 years we have weathered storms together that many a seasoned sailer could not handle.  If I were being honest I would admit that many of those 25 years have been rougher seas than the calm, smooth sailing.  Maybe that fight has made us want this all the more, to become more determined to see this quarter century love affair through to the end.  Maybe we were both to stubborn to admit defeat and throw in the towel.  Whatever the reason that we have stood against the storms together, we are here together, strong.

    Marriage is like one of those slightly dishonest used cars sales.  When you go to that car lot, those cars look all clean and spiffy, the interior is spotless and smells great.  To those of us ignorant to the ways of cars, under that shiny hood, it could all be held together with pipe cleaners.  The problem is that you fall in love with car, the sleek lines, the spotless interior, never considering to look at the engine, never thinking to look over the list of previous owners and damage that may have occurred to that used car that might compromise it's safety.  You jump in willingly looking past the facts and being sold by the beauty.  Isn't that really what love is?  There is something that attracts us to that person.  Physical attraction is 99% of the time that first selling point.  You get to know them over a serious of dates or interactions.  We play that game where we act like the person that we would like to be, as opposed to the person that we truly are.  We do the bate and switch.  Usually by the time that the switch occurs you have invested a lot of time into this relationship, and you have developed feelings for this imposter even though they duped you.  This all sounds very sinister, but for those of you who are married, tell me this isn't true.

    The difficult part of marriage occurs when enough time has passed that you now have a feeling of comfort and safety with that partner.  You feel safe to let your guard down and show your true self.  I think that this is probably the stage where marriages end.  You do that calculation, is this still worth it?  I think that this is where to older customs had it right in some cultures.  In Scotland they had handfasting, it was like a trial run.  At the end of that arranged upon date, if things just didn't work, the marriage was over.

    Quarter of a century seems like the mere blink of the eye.  I feel like I was just that scared country girl all alone in that cement walled dorm room, all alone in the big city.  It feels like just yesterday that tall, skinny kid down the hall asked if I wanted to play touch football.  It was just a blink that I found myself in the arms of that tall skinny kid at "The Last Supper" dance.  I danced with him all night, and when I looked up at him, he pressed his lips onto mine.  That was it, were inseparable after that.  Twenty-five years has seen five beautiful children.  Sometimes I look at them and wonder just how Christopher and I could create such stunning creatures.  For the most part those five people that we created are as beautiful on the inside as they are on the outside.  I am really proud of the job that we have done parenting our children to this point, and I say job, because that is exactly what it is.

    When I look at our wedding photos, so many people that were important to us are no longer with us.  We have lost so many people in our 25 years.  We have known heartbreak that I pray other parents will never know.  We have had many a sleepless night, taking shifts to stay up with sick children.  We've done frantic hospital runs for broken bones, stitches, medical emergencies.    We have taken countless family vacations and felt blessed.  There have been so many changes in the last 25 years.

    This side of twenty-five years seems good.  We have fought the good fight, a fight that is surely not over.  We have worked our butts off to make this marriage work, to make this marriage everything that we want it to be.  We were too stubborn to give up, we had too much invested, too many people to hurt.  All of those terrible parts of the story have made us who we are, forced us to grow.    I know that when I need him he is there unconditionally.  I could not have picked a better father for my children.  There is no one in this entire world that I trust more than Christopher Lindsay.  He is my life preserver when the storm comes, and I cling to him until the storm passes.  Because of all of our trials as opposed to in spite of them I have no doubt that we will last at least another 25.  I have no doubt that we will miss our babies when they finally leave us, but I also know that we will be ok.

Dear Teen Self - Things I Wish I'd Known Then

    We have entered that dating stage.  I mentioned this before.  I thought that I was ready.  It would be exciting, I did not know that there was such a thing as boomerang heartbreak (I should patent this one I think).  Boomerang heartbreak is when your child is sobbing, their heart aching and all you can do is hold them and stroke their hair, you are completely helpless.  Boomerang heartbreak is when you want to stalk that boy who hurt your baby's heart, and hurt his with a crossbow.  It is that hollow feeling where you too feel like your world has ended, and also like a failure as a parent because you cannot take away their pain.  The worst part of all of this, is that I have three girls and a boy, this stage is not going away anytime soon, and no one, I mean no one prepares you for this one.

    I've been thinking back on my romantic past.  It's shocking to me to realize this, but I have been with Christopher for 27 years.  I was 20 years old the last time I dated anyone other than him.  It was so long ago, but it is amazing how easy it is to remember those heartaches.  Those boys I knew I would die if they did not notice me, and yet life continued.  I remember those boys I liked, and surprisingly they liked me back, and that high that went with that.  Those teen years are so filled with the highs and the lows, is it any wonder that when their bodies are already producing such intense feelings that our teens take drugs?  (For the record, I am not a proponent of drug abuse)

    As I look back through the past, a past that does not seem that distant and yet the years tell me differently, I wish that I could do a reverse time capsule for my younger self.  I wish that I could impart some of the wisdom that I have earned through all of those heartaches, to that younger self.  Here is what I would tell that younger version of me....

Dear Tris;

    You are beautiful.  Ignore the lies that your brain is telling you when you look in the mirror, you are beautiful.  You are perfect.  You aren't fat, you are so perfect.  Right now the world is yours, so for goodness sake grab it greedily.  Don't let fear and poor self worth stand in your way, be strong, be brave and push through the fear.

    I can tell you that your future will be bumpy, but it is pretty wonderful on this side of your history, so stop worrying about everything, and LIVE.  Take risks.  Enjoy your friendships, these friendships are different than any other you will ever have.  Learn from your heartbreak, it will pass it always does.  Don't allow yourself to derive your self worth from any one other than yourself.  Be kinder to yourself, you have to live with you for the rest of your days.

   Boys will come and they will go.  Enjoy each romance, and remember that they are not forever.  Because a romance failed doesn't mean that you are a failure, it simply means that each of you learned what you need from each other and were ready to move on, it's part of growing up.

    This body that you currently inhabit is a beautiful thing of wonder, live in it!  

Love your future self

Our Gift of Life, Gives the Gift of Life

 
   Parenting is like rolling the dice, all you can do is hope for that desired outcome, well kind of.  We have tried to raise our children to be good people.  With Grace we are beginning to see the end game.  She is this strong, beautiful young woman who will take the world by storm.  I look at that child and everything that she has been through, and yet she continues to awe me with her bravery and fighting spirit.  I see this little timid girl who was terrified of the world and she every single day leaves that timid girl in her shadows.  The world will be a better place because Grace Lindsay was born, and that is especially true for at least one person who is possibly fighting the fight of their life.

    I am a blood donor, have been since I was 18.  I should qualify that first statement, with I am a "passionate" blood donor.  Other kids dreamed of driving, I dreamed of donating blood.  Oh there is no rational explanation for this insane desire, I just knew that when I turned 17 I would donate.  I did not realize what a gift I gave until I myself needed that gift.  Christopher and I have given blood since we began dating.  It's kind of our thing.  When the kids were little we would bundle them up and take them with us to donate blood, snacks and games in hand.  I always felt like it was important for them to see us donating and that way they would know how important it is.

    December 21, 2004 the night all of our lives changed forever, the night we went from a happy family of 6, to a heart broken, soul broken family of 5.  That night our van was T-boned by a speeding pick-up truck.  The impact ruptured our oldest's spleen, and tore mine in 8 places.  Grace's carseat saved her, and I thank God every single day for that built in car seat.  That night the ambulance flew with Gabe in it to Kington.  I cannot imagine how many bags of blood were required to keep our beautiful boy alive for those three days.  I do not know just how many bags of blood I myself used.  I had a bag in each arm on my way from Napanee Hospital to Kingston General.  I was told later by the surgeon who saved my life that had I gone half an hour more with out a blood transfusion, I would have died.  I came within half an hour of death, that is a very shocking limited amount of time to me.

    

    Had good people not donated their blood, my children would have to grow up without a mother.  This thought is very sobering to me.  I am alive because people took time out of their day to donate their precious blood.  Had good people not donated their blood, Gabe would have died instantly, instead of allowing us to love him, and in the most minutest of ways say our goodbyes to our formerly strong, healthy 9 year old boy.

    This August was no different really than any other night that there is a blood drive in my small town.  Christopher and I spent the day drinking lots of water in anticipation of our donation (we are pros now).  On a whim I asked Grace the night before if she was wanting to donate this year.  I was expecting a resounding "NO", and was shocked and delighted when she began to ask questions about donating.  After a dialogue about what to expect she said she would like to donate.  It was a proud moment for me.  To you this may sound ridiculous that I have derived so much pride in the fact that my child donated blood, but it's bigger than that.  This single selfless act (well selfless if you don't see that awesome cool 1st time donor button and those delightful tiny bags of cookies and juice a payoff) signals her desire to be more.  It signals her entry into adulthood.  It signals a desire to look beyond herself and think of others.  It signals the beginning of an adult that will change the world, and make this place a better place to live.  When you put it into those contexts, it's pretty hard not to be proud.

    My tiny blonde frightened child is shedding her skin, and growing.  She is growing into someone I am proud of, oh heck, who am I kidding I've always been proud of her.  It is a gift to watch your children grow not just physically but mentally, and philisophically.  Our world that can seem such a frightening place full of terrorists and gun wielding manics if we allow it to.  For me it's easier to look for the good.  Our world becomes more beautiful and happier when we choose to look for the good and to choose to be the good.  

    The Moto of the Canadian Blood Services is "Blood... it's in you to give", and this is true.  It costs nothing to donate your blood and to save a life.  It takes an hour of your life, an hour that you would probably waste looking at your phone.  There are no real long lasting ill effects of donating blood, other than if you didn't hydrate you may feel a little yucky.  What is a little yuck when you realize how good it feels to know the someone will live because of your tiny act.  I am living proof that giving blood saves lives.

    Hey world, there is a beautiful fighter who is making her way.  This kid is pretty fantastic, and hey world you are about to be a whole lot better because she's in it!

No One Prepares You for your Kids Dating

    I remember my mother telling me that it felt like she blinked and my sister and I were adults with children of our own.  These were in the days that I had a little girl in school, twin preschoolers, and an infant and it felt like my sanity may not last me to the end of the day.  I gave her that little smile, the smile that said I'm being polite, but I think you're full of horse poop because these days I am putting in right now feel like they are endless.
   
  My mother's words no longer sound like the words of someone who is wistfully recalling her younger days.  Those words hold a frightening amount of truth right now.  My babies are not babies anymore, and it hurts more than I anticipated that it would.  I can no longer protect them from the world.  I have to let them go out and get hurt, and all I can do is hold them when it's all done.  I feel so powerless.

    I knew that this day was coming.  I knew it was coming, but when you look into the distance things seem so tiny and so far away, it's not until you are speeding up on them that you realize how unprepared for the hugeness of it all you actually are.  This is how I am feeling right now, like I am perched upon the edge, unsure of my balance, terrified that I will fall.

    So often when people reminisce about their teens and dating they remember with the rose coloured glasses tightly affixed to their face.  They remember the highs.  When you see that guy and he looks at you and you feel that mixture of euphoria and nausea.  When that boy you really like asks you out and you feel like you won the lottery and once again that mixture of euphoria and nausea.  How often do you remember the agony of heartbreak.  That boy who you love, but who doesn't know you exist, or just doesn't care that you exist.  That feeling like someone literally reached into your chest, pulled out your heart with their bare hands and then shredded it with a knife.  That feeling where you want to lay in your bed, and wish you could just cease to exist, the pain does not feel like it will ever lift. When I look back on my youth I remember the boys that I loved, but I remember those feelings of agony.

    My kids are getting older now.  Gracie is going into grade 12 this year, and I'm not sure how that happened.  I feel like we were just picking out that special backpack and lunch pail for the first day of junior kindergarten.  I felt like she was such a big girl and I cried.  The twins are going into grade 9.  Those tiny babies I was terrified to hold because they were so tiny and fragile looking 6 pounds 4 ounces and 6 pounds 7 ounces are now 5 foot 4 and 6 foot 2.  My miracle baby, the baby who should not even exist is going into grade 5.  Somehow that time that it felt like life was crawling by, was switched to fast forward and no-one told me.

    I know that I am biased but my children are beautiful.  I see the way boys look at my stunningly beautiful big girls.  I see girls rubberneck to look at my giant of a son who has shed his baby looks and his face is becoming much more chiseled and grown up looking.  This is what I wished for.  I wanted them to grow up and be strong and beautiful.  I wanted them to be independent and take the world by storm.  I've been preparing them, or at least trying to prepare them.  When I thought about their future I only saw the beauty, my rose coloured glasses tightly affixed to my face.  They are so smart, and beautiful, and confident, no-one would ever hurt them.

    Here is what no one prepares you for in your children't teen years.  People are going to hurt them, they may not do it intentionally, but people are going to hurt them.  It's not like when they were tiny and you could call up the school and get justice.  It's not like when you could casually mention to that hurtful child's parents what they had done.  No, now I have to sit on the sidelines watching the pain, and all I can do is watch.  I can offer advice and hugs and ice-cream, but I can't fix broken hearts, there are no bandaids for that.  There is nothing I can do to make it better, no amount of kissing boo boos to take away the pain.  It is killing me to just sit on the sidelines, doing nothing to protect them.  I know that they need the broken hearts.  It's the failed relationships that make you realize what you want in a good one.  Broken hearts build character, at least that's what I keep telling myself.  I lived through broken hearts, the kids will too... but I didn't anticipate how much my heart would break along side of theirs.

    As the parent of teens you want your children to date.  You want your children to feel that euphoria of their first kiss, the sweaty palms of holding hands.  You want them to live, really and truly live.  I want them to live life like a person who is starving and digs in with two hands.  I want them to take risks (within reason), and to make mistakes (within reason).  All of the things that I want for them, I do so theoretically.  Theoretically I want them to do all of these things, because the theory behind it makes sense.  The up close reality is scary as hell because all I can do is watch from a far.  It's like when they learned to ride their bikes and I watched as they wobbled and sometimes fell,  blood and all.  Eventually they learned to ride, but there were injuries along the way.

    No one prepares you for this chapter, the dating chapter.  It's like the secret chapter that only reveals itself when you come to it.  The thing that scares me is that if I am so emotionally involved right now, and they have only dipped their toes into the dating waters, how will I manage when they dive in and swim out so far that I can't rescue them?

Hastings The Musical in Bancroft - AKA Date Night

    Parenting is this funny thing.  No one ever warns you how tough it will be.  Everyone prepares you for the sleepless nights with newborns, and they warn of teething and colic.  No one warns you about the sleepless nights as they get older.  The worry about who their friends are, knowing that you can no longer dictate who their friends are.  Those are the sleepless nights, the ones that you now know you will not outgrow unlike the teething.  When the kids were little, we would dream of the days when they were old enough and independent enough that we could have date nights without having to pay a sitter.  The kids are now old enough and independent enough to watch themselves, and their little sister.  The problem lies now in that they are older and so independent that they have lives.  Date nights do not happen as often as we would like, but that seems to make them all the more special.  The rare times that we are able to indulge in date night, it is always worth it, and last night was no exception.

    Last night Christopher and I traveled to the town of Bancroft, Ontario to see Hastings the Musical.

http://www.bancroftvillageplayhouse.ca

    We had seen Hastings in it's inaugural run at the Tweed Pavilion.  It has been quite a privilege to watch Tweed and Company grow and just get better and better every single year.  I am so proud to call Tim Porter a native of my home town, and to see him grow his fantastic vision of his theatre company.  This season celebrates their 10th season, and this is quite an accomplishment.   For those of you not in the know, this group of uber talented young performers not only performs plays, they write the scripts, original music, direct, create the sets and all of it original.  They create a musical commentary on life in Canada.

     We drove into Bancroft, not really knowing what to expect of the theatre.  Bancroft is a picturesque town that explodes with cottagers during the summer months.  The town itself boasts many cottage related quaint stores, and restaurants (although they can boast not one, but two Tim Hortons Coffee Shops).  We pulled up to the theatre, and it looked like it had been transported from a rural mountain village in Germany or Switzerland.  The bright red paint on the outside draws you in, and makes you want to explore.
   On the porch as we entered we saw Tim.  His face exploded into a massive smile of recognition.  There is something to be said for that kind of a beautiful welcome.  That familiar face, told me right then and there that we were in for a wonderful night.  He politely left his conversation and came over to greet us with a big hug.   Through the doors the bright red beckoned us forward, encouraged us to explore.  My eyes danced around, trying to take everything in.  We climbed up a narrow staircase, and I did not know what I would find as I climbed up to the top.

     My jaw dropped as I came into the theatre.  It was beautiful, like a warm retired rustic barn/ theatre. Stings of market lights, danced above us.  It was beautiful, and I wanted to sit that little bit closer, love my husband just a little bit more.  It was the setting you might expect to see in a romantic movie.  That air of romance hung like a fragrance.  We sat in anticipation of the play, but at the same time just happy to share the ambiance and each other's company.  As we sat, we were approached by a familiar face from the Tweed and Company (the people who don't take the bows on stage, but who are integral part of making the company run).  This warm, red haired lady asked if we could do a survey about our experience thus far, had we seen other performances?  How likely would we come to see another Tweed and Company production?  This one warm and welcoming team member told me (in actions not words)that The Tweed and Company Theatre had now outgrown their growing pains and were hungry for more growth.  It struck me as such a smart and professional thing to do, conduct a survey.  Don't just assume that everyone thinks you're great, work hard and be great!

    As 7:30 drew near, I looked around the theatre.  On opening night there were just a few empty seats.  I felt a lump of pride in my throat.  There were whispered conversations throughout the audience of people voicing their expectations.  I sat an eavesdropped quietly, the pre-show buzz was good.  The lights faded and an etherial blonde woman stood up at the front of the stage.  She was personable and funny and introduced herself to the crowd,as Barb Shaw.  She then went on to share with the audience what makes the theatre we were sitting in so much more impressive than I first thought.  The Bancroft  Village Playhouse is completely unique.  It's uniqueness comes not just from it's appearance and charm, but in it's internal beauty.  The Bancroft Village Playhouse is a fundraising device for Hospice North Hastings.  http://www.hospicenorthhastings.com

    I dazzled at the stunning beauty of this theatre, the phrase "beautiful inside and out" comes to mind.  On their website, Hospice North Hastings calls it "caring through culture", and that is a beautiful notion.  It subliminally confirms that hospice is not about dying, it's about living and providing comfort.  It is contributing to their community and allowing wonderful productions and movies to fill their cultural centre, all the while helping to ease suffering.  It is such a beautiful arrangement.

    For the next two hours I was transported back through history, the history of the place I call home. Again and again I was dumbstruck by the incredible talent of this cast.  I say it almost every time I see a Tweed Theatre Company, but each and every cast member could easily hold their own in a Broadway production.  As I watched I kept thinking "oh I must remember the name of this song so that I can point it out as my favourite", the problem was that they were all my favourites.  The set was  beautiful and simple.  The small amount of props did quadruple duty.  To me The Tweed Theatre Company's strongest talent is the vocal abilities that Tim picks out for his cast.  The acoustics in the theatre were perfect and it felt like their voices drifted out from the stage and permeated into my  very soul.

   The production was so very much better this time around even from what I remembered it last year.  The choreography, the set, the music, everything was better, more mature, better refined.  The audience loved the production.  Their clapping filled the theatre like thunder after each remarkable number.  At first I wondered how they would ever be able to replace the role of Suzanna Moody that Tricia Black had made her own.  How could anyone else find that same impeccable timing, that same huge stage presence, those where large shoes to fill.  Danielle Leger apparently has exceptionally large feet, because those giant shoes that Tricia left behind appeared to have no wiggle room.  The crowd only needed to see Danielle and began to chuckle and then erupt into great belly laughs, they could anticipate the punchline, and rolled with it.
   
    The premise for the production is that of the ghosts of lovers who might have been but never were. It is a love story, but not just in the way that we think of romantic love stories.  Hastings, is a love story about this place we live, about where Tim grew up.  It is the love of our history and what a big part of our country's history, our little rural community played.  It is the love story of a small town boy who made his way into the world to pursue his dream of theatre.  That small town boy put together a cast of talented fellow actors, who it is obvious over the ten year run have all become friends.  It is the love of our country and making his mark on it's theatre history.  Hastings is a love story.

    

    This week, go and do yourself a favour.  Go, no matter the length of drive to Bancroft.  Go early and look around that pretty town, bursting with transplanted holiday people.  Go and feel yourself reeled in by that bright, happy, German looking building that is The Bancroft Village Playhouse.  In this oppressive heatwave, go and enjoy the cool that draws you further into the red beauty.  Spend that paltry $30 and be transported to the past.  Drink in the homey atmosphere and delight in the simple yet brilliantly set for this play.  Allow yourself to feel every single note of that beautifully crafted and impeccably executed music.  Indulge in a glass of wine or beer (just one if you are driving).  Feel blessed for this gift that you have.  As your feel yourself coming back to your body at the end of this wonder performance, feel good about it.  This is a tremendous gift that you have given not just to yourself.  The gift to yourself is seeing this high caliber of performance in a beautiful rural setting, and have an indigent evening that didn't break the bank.  The second gift is the gift you have given to the Tweed and Company Theatre.  Your support gives them not just financial gain, but it sends the message that their hundreds of hours of blood sweat and tears are worth every single second that they have lovingly given.  It validates their pride in producing Canadian plays that are crafted by Canadians and for Canadians.  Lastly you give the most beautiful gift to people that you may never know.  You give the gift of love. You allow the dying dignity and those who love them permission to take a second to appreciate that loved one without the exhausting care for that person themselves.  Giving to hospice is a beautiful gift that helps so many.  Your beautiful evening out, that delightful glass of wine or beer, it all contributed to someone getting the palliative care that they very much need.

https://tweedandcompany.com

Go to the Tweed and Company website and take a peek at what's coming up, 

and do yourself a big favour and mark September 19 - 29 on your calendar.  

It is my favourite play that they have done to date.