My pal Brad arrived in town this morning at 6:30am on a red eye from Los Angeles. He is here for our friend Bo's Celebration of Life tomorrow. I had to tell him if he wanted to see "Hair" at the Delacorte in Central Park tonight he would have to drag ass with me straight away to get in the queue. Poor guy. Welcome to his nightmare. We met up with Ron and the three of us had our own "Be In" for 6 hours in the park to get the free tix for tonight's performance. Fortunately it was spent on a comfortable park bench in the shade with benchside food service.
Folks, it was all well worth it. Well worth it. Except for the unfortunately flat performance of "Sheila" (some key numbers she had as well) it was pushed way beyond my expectations and made me laugh, cry, be angry and be joyful. I love all the music and once again (apres 40) youthful energy rocks my world. It was a total celebration and as hokey as it sounds the audience is welcomed to rush the stage and dance to "Let the Sun Shine In" with the cast. It was electric, truly. The whole audience on stage and in the bleachers just gets into it. I let down my own hair which is really good for me. I really think people are dying connect sometimes and this was one of those moments in the middle of Central Park.
In my senior year of high school our History grade was primarily based on a "thesis" we had to do on something historical that took place in 1968. Most papers were on JFK and MLK, Jr. I wrote about how "Hair" opened on Broadway in 1968 and reflected what was going on in the world outside the theatre where it was playing. I got the only A+ in the class and loved all the research I did. My dad always said he could never see the play as he would be arrested for assault because he could not accept someone burning the US flag on stage. Not sure that they did that, but maybe they did. The fact that we can still "accept" Bush and his regime leading us into a senseless war that kills and maims 100s of thousands of people for a lie, I think is way more grave than stagecraft. It just breaks my heart. For our freedom, my ass. A 40 year old play that sadly is still topical.
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