Lucia was the name of the landlady at mine and Matt's apartment in Chicago up around Kimble and Kedzie. There was a big family that lived in her apartment which was directly below ours. She was about 200 years old, and she had a bilingual fit one time when I refused to pay rent until she did something about the cockroaches. She would occasionally come up --with this sprayer device that looked a lot like a silver fire-extinguisher which appeared to be heavier than her being-- and spray the edges of the room. The device could have been making cotton candy for all I know and was about as effective. But don't be misled, we loved that apartment.
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| Stauf's on Grandview Avenue in Grandview, OH |
I faced our family-home, our friends, and thousands of memories that I hadn't had the strength to examine while I was still in college. After that year at home, I felt ready to move on to Chicago. Though, today, so much of Chicago is a black-out that I suspect I was not quite ... ready. My sister's death was too present, and her un-lived adulthood too unsettling.
For several years to follow, I think, I was trying to live for both of us: living responsibly like the life she deserved, and recklessly because I was alive to do so. I was Two Ginnas. And there within awaits the classic tragic collision that is unforeseen yet inevitable (which, in my case, came years after Chicago.) But Chicago remains in my memory a whirlwind of responsible jobs and an endless party with new friends and boyfriends. It became so fragmented a life, that I began to seek one thing. Amid the transit from Starbucks, to the gym, to rehearsal, back to the gym and then to another rehearsal... I craved one thing to dive into. One thing to absorb my attention.
By the 8th or 9th month of living in Chicago, I had two promising auditions, each of which, if successful, would remove me from the Windy City perhaps for good. Shenandoah Shakespeare Express (which is now known as The American Shakespeare Center) was casting its '98-'99 tour and The Actors Theatre of Louisville was selecting members for its Acting Apprentice company. I had been trying to get into this ATL thing for two seasons already, and had auditioned and interviewed (fairly well, I thought) in the spring of 1998. Shakespeare, on the other hand, was not my strength in 1998. I was drawn to SSE mainly because this guy, Jim, who ran the whole deal seemed like he was doing the kind of Shakespeare that I wanted to perform. I don't know how to explain it, except that suddenly, the work felt hip and alive while maintaining its classic precision. (Duality, I liked. See above.)
Back in those days, SSE held their callbacks in D.C. Actors spent the whole day auditioning in groups and pairs, and were asked to sign a contract before we left at the end of the day and before an offer was made. They would call us later that night with their decision. I didn't have a cell phone back then (no one that I knew did) and so I gave them the number of the hotel I'd booked for the night. (This was probably the first time I'd flown and hotel'ed by myself, which is poetic for those of you who know how this plot unfolded over the next ten years.) About, or a little after midnight, the loud hard ring of the hotel room phone woke me up, and Jim Warren, the young Artistic Director told me in a kind tone that it was a really tough decision, but they'd gone with someone else. Or they wouldn't be hiring me this year. Or whatever tidy phrase they have to use to get the point across. I was too tired to feel bad and with a weary "okay" and "thanks" ("thanks"???) I hung up. I felt certain that they purposefully called late to avoid the excess emotion commonly associated with such moments. (Though, let it be known that was not the case; they just wanted to let us know their decisions as soon as possible and that just happened to be late.) I returned to Chicago and within a few days I received the call from ATL that I had been selected for the apprentice company.
The woman who called me was named "Sully." I thought that was awesome.
My aunt Mary Jane offered me her home to live in during the ten-month contract in Louisville which I could not/would not pass up. The year I spent in Louisville was immeasurably valuable and Sullivan "Sully" White is one of my best friends in the world, champions of my work, and touchstone for life itself.
It was 1998 when I met Sully and SSE's Jim Warren. They are the same age and have never met each other. Both of them have hired me repeatedly in the dozen-plus years that followed. Letters of recommendation have passed between them. And when I wrote my most recent play, both of them jumped to direct and produce it.
After that SSE audition in 1998, I kept in touch with Jim Warren and followed the company's progress from a touring-only troupe to a company of two troupes and a space that is today, the world's only recreation of Shakespeare's indoor theatre... and the vision that I was lucky to behold on a regular basis for nearly four years of employment. It was almost a decade later when Jim hired me (first there was an offer I declined, having met my husband-to-be and landed the apartment on 86th Street. See Dwell & Tell Part Two. Then, a year later, an offer I could not pass up.)
So, my Chicago story is not really about Chicago. Chicago was my bridge. I needed Chicago to shed some stuff from my past and thrust me into the things that became my future. Moving to Chicago cost me the college romance that I thought would last forever, and replaced it with the years I would live, love, act, and eventually blog about in excessive detail.
The coincidence I refer to at the top of this entry involves a chance occurrence two days ago that bulldozed my careful fortress of emotional defense. "And there within awaits the classic tragic collision that is unforeseen yet inevitable." Ready is a relative term.
Stauf's on Grandview Avenue in Grandview, OH is a terrific spot. I go there a lot when I am in Columbus. A micro-roaster with good coffee, always bustling, free wifi, and an attached shop where you can buy your beans and a host of other coffee-lover stuff. (I've got my eye on that bright orange mug in the picture below.) 1277 Grandview Avenue
Columbus, OH 43212 Hours of Operation: Mo - Th: 6:30AM - 10:00PM, Friday: 6:30AM - 12:00AM, Saturday: 7:00AM - 12:00AM, Sunday: 8:00AM - 10:00PM
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