|Chris hasn't changed much since her days|
behind the wheel of her Studebaker.
The most astonishing reunion was with my high school comrade Chrissy, whom I had not seen in over 30 years. Back at Kennedy High in Granada Hills, CA, she was part of the theater crowd (I only spent one year there, so everybody I knew was in the theater crowd), and we reconnected a while ago through Facebook.
|Chrissy as a sassy French maid,|
that's me with the cane, as The Miser.
Back in the day, she was a diminutive lass, with a little girl voice which served her well in the shows we produced (if there was a young girl in the show, we were set with Chris). She lives in LA, after spending lots of time living all over the world, and she traveled with her husband to Manhattan for a few days. We had a terrific reunion over lunch, and she reminded me of the old Studebaker she drove while in high school. The sight of this teeny tiny gal peering over the steering wheel of that boxy sedan was hilarious.
Spending time with this old friend reminded me of that year I spent at Kennedy High, when I had such a bang-up time in the theater department; it was that year which put me on the path I still follow. (I wrote a bit about that here.)
|Monica as the wife of the Emperor|
who was hoodwinked about his clothes.
|Monica attended my annual party celebrating|
the anniversary of Stonewall.
|Another kids' show, Monica as a disgruntled rat.|
In between those encounters, I spent a fun evening with a college chum.
|Greg is on the far right, in CSUN's|
Guys and Dolls.
We lost touch for a long while, but in recent years, reconnected. Greg has been a Manhattan local, off and on, for a couple of decades, and is in the midst of an eclectic career in playwrighting, stage management, and in the classroom. He was very excited to learn of my good fortune in snagging an apartment at Manhattan Plaza.
|I've always been directionally challenged, no more so|
than when looking out my own window.
I've always been lousy with directions, and this proves the point. I wonder if my error in direction has bigger meaning. I've landed in New York (albeit part time) through a series of flukes and luck. While here, I'm floundering around a bit, like I've been tossed into the deep end of the pool unexpectedly.
It's not like I'm drowning; at my age, I know how to swim. But I'm still bewildered by the significance of landing here at this stage of my life, rather than when I was a young pup; I'm not sure what it all means. I'll be needing my New York friends like Greg to point me in the right direction, since I'm likely to be facing the wrong one.