Battleground State

Rarely do the YA's get to Day Four.
Day One is typically morning travel, noon-3 load-in and set up, 4-9pm begin workshop. Day Two is teaching workshop 8am-8pm. Day Three is morning YA rehearsal, workshop dress rehearsal and show. Tear down, load out, get to homestay's around midnight and then early call for Day One all over again.

Day Four is a rare day off. No travel, no rehearsal, no call time, no reds (6-8th graders), no blue crew,(high schoolers) no angels(4th & 5th graders). No nothing.

With the iPod loaded, and a few stars hanging on, we start out on her Day One and our first retirement tour. We pack a cooler, her winter coat, a replacement camera and open arms.

GR. E. Lansing, Ann Arbor, Toledo, Findlay and then small town Bellefountaine, Ohio. The political signs are everywhere, but I've conceded. My center is calm and I know who holds the future. It doesn't matter who governs us, and I will always call him President Obama.

We peek thru the gym doors and load-in is already in motion. A tap on the shoulder and then the first group hug since sayonara on May 15.

She's changed, cast members have changed, we've changed.

And yet everything remains the same.

"I knew you were coming," she says through the tears. In my heart I figured the surprise had not been leaked. Of course she knew we were coming. Because she knew we couldn't stay away.

And so we settle comfortably on the bleachers and start to soak in the YA experience.

Load-in, rehearse, group talks, fuzzy room, lunch, teaching, singer songwriter, suess, decades, hairspray, stomp, more group talks, fuzzy, dinner, more teaching, dismiss kids, director pep talk! Don't glaze over, don't slide through these last few towns. Finish strong.
Day Two: same as day one.
Day Three: Showtime

Somewhere along the 36 hours the town kids learn the show and she asks if we understand why she doesn't call!

The town people come, then 20 or so other Young Americans, and a dozen parents--to see and hear the magic and show stoppers. All of which is way too short.

The battle in our heart grows stronger. I want her to come home and I can tell she wants to. And yet, not. I want her to want to come home and yet if she did, she would leave a part of herself here. With them.

A brief space in time, in the middle of this great free country, our hears connect physically. Our smiles bounce from stage to bleachers, to our lovely cottage on the fishing lake, and back again.

We put up with her suitcase, and try not to nag about the stolen camera and lost cell phone. She puts up with our snoring. We visit with old and new friends. We learn, listen, and watch this amazing three days unfold. We celebrate late into the evening on election day in the USA. The text messages and phone calls are fast and furious as brothers and sisters, related and not, watch the historic celebration of their own choosing. Albeit, we're on somewhat different levels; Theirs' is an unbridled optimism. Ours is more subdued and a silent hope against disillusionment. . . It's their turn now.

Tonight the battle in my heart is not political. It's really not a battle, more of an ache. That damn circle of life ache.

But tomorrow is November 5th. It's a new dawn, a new day.

It's Day Four.