A Grandmother Story

My grandmother, Mildred, gave me the theatre...

We were too poor to afford theatre tickets. We always had enough for food, clothing and shelter, and a few extra things we wanted, but not too terribly much more. My parents were not theatre-goers anyway. If you're wondering how a kid in my circumstances got hooked on the theatre, well it happened like this …

My grandmother, Mildred, was born in 1905 and raised in Boston , the only surviving child of a wealthy Irish Boston family. Mildred had an older sister, but she was born with a defective heart and died when Mildred was 8 or 9. The family lived in a large house by the ocean. I've never been to Boston, but I've been told she lived on a hill and could see the ocean from the house.

My great-grandmother died in childbirth, giving birth to Mildred. My great-grandfather died from a ruptured appendix when Millie was just two years old. He had recently brought over a beloved childhood friend from Ireland to be his wife and take care of his daughters. As he lay dying, in great pain, he asked the woman to raise his daughters as her own and she promised she would. They had been married just a few short months.

As a child Mildred did not know that the woman who raised her was not her birth mother - she always praised the woman for the loving care bestowed on her as a child. She loved her "mother" and it wasn't until she learned the truth at twenty-one that she understood the resentment her aunts felt for her father's second wife. Her father had left enough money when he died that they did not have to worry, Mildred's stepmother did not have to remarry. It seemed to me that the stories about the aunts portrayed them as busybodies who thought that Mildred's stepmother was an opportunist, perhaps even woman of questionable morals. After all, what kind of woman crosses an ocean to marry a man she hasn't seen in years.

My grandmother grew up in the world of debutantes and balls and strict maiden aunts. She attended the theatre and ballet from childhood until she married my grandfather. He was in the army and they moved every two or three years until he retired and took them to Bloomington Indiana.

I grew up in Bloomington; hometown of Indiana University, which in the 1960s and 1970s (and maybe still today) had a very good arts program. My grandmother worked for an attorney who was an alumnus of the university. As a man of reasonable wealth who was active in his alumni foundation, he purchased 2 season tickets to every event series at the university. He and his wife went to all the sporting events. He gave the theatre, music and art tickets to my grandmother.

All of the other grandkids either were not old enough or had no real interest in the theatre. So once or twice a month during junior high and high school, I would take a different bus to my grandmother's house after school. She lived in town; I lived out in the countryside. I had my own key to her house and would go inside and change into my "Theatre Clothes" which I kept at her house just for these events. I would then walk the 20 or so blocks to her office. I'd wait patiently until she finished working for the day. We'd then walk to a restaurant for dinner (my grandmother never learned to drive) and then head to the theatre or the recital hall or the gallery.

The seats were always very good seats - usually fifth row, never any farther back than seventh row and always in the center section. I was always the only non-adult in the section. All around me were the wealthy elite of the university community - most were middle-aged or older, all of them were white. They'd come in wearing their furs and jewelry, their fancy gowns and matching shoes and bags. I always wore the same thing (until I outgrew it and replaced it with another set of theatre clothes), usually a blouse and long skirt. My grandmother didn't approve of mini-skirts or jeans, and would have thought them highly inappropriate for the theatre (rightly so, at that time).

town; I lived out in the countryside. I had my own key to her house and would go inside and change into my "Theatre Clothes" which I kept at her house just for these events. I would then walk the 20 or so blocks to her office. I'd wait patiently until she finished working for the day. We'd then walk to a restaurant for dinner (my grandmother never learned to drive) and then head to the theatre or the recital hall or the gallery.

The seats were always very good seats - usually fifth row, never any farther back than seventh row and always in the center section. I was always the only non-adult in the section. All around me were the wealthy elite of the university community - most were middle-aged or older, all of them were white. They'd come in wearing their furs and jewelry, their fancy gowns and matching shoes and bags. I always wore the same thing (until I outgrew it and replaced it with another set of theatre clothes), usually a blouse and long skirt. My grandmother didn't approve of mini-skirts or jeans, and would have thought them highly inappropriate for the theatre (rightly so, at that time).

I've seen plays of all kinds, serious drama and comedy, musicals, and monologue performances. I've been to ballet and other dance performances. I used to save the ticket stubs and had them in a small tin box for the longest time. I still have the box, but the ticket stubs are long gone – I don't know when, or where, I lost them.

I remember the African dance troupe that came - all the dancers either had very little on for costumes or they were completely enveloped in feathers and skins and wood and other natural materials from head-to-toe. The dancing was wonderful, very acrobatic and dynamic, Cirque du Soleil-ish. To this day I cannot say whether the dances were effortless or if they were the hardest thing the dancers ever did. The music was stirring – rhythmic and exotic and it made my heart race a little. It was very interesting to see all the elderly and middle aged rich white women ogling the magnificent loincloth-clad black bodies moving with seemingly total abandon on the stage. The female dancers wore no more than the males and it was fascinating to watch the responses to their dancing also. It was the only time that I saw even partial nudity on stage. Much of the audience around me was both scandalized and titillated.

I also remember a musical about the creation of the Declaration of Independence, 1776 . I remember being fascinated with Thomas Jefferson for a brief time after the performance. I also remember trying to make gunpowder using the materials they mentioned in the musical – charcoal, sulfur and saltpeter. Fortunately when I went to the chemist to buy the materials he refused to sell them to me, knowing full well what I was up to, I suspect, …

When the performances were over we would walk the twenty-five blocks back to her house if it was warm, or hire a taxi if it was cold. There were always dozens of taxis outside the theatre when the show was over. Taxi rides were not part of my normal life and for me they seemed exotic and a bit decadent...

The theatre was always magical for me. It was an escape from my normal world, which while not at all unpleasant, did get a little boring at times. Those evenings were transcendent and changed me forever. Even today going to the theatre makes me achy and gives me a hollow feeling inside - not in the sad-empty-wanting kind of way, but the warm, gentle way that special memories can make you feel.

Thank you Grandmother, I think I probably forgot to thank you before today.