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childhood

How Theatre Saved My Life

May 7, 2018 By dhcbaldwin 17 Comments

Man and Woman in The Fantasticks Musical

dramamommaspeaks.com

This is how theatre saved my life. My imagination (and later, theatre specifically) saved my life. When I was a child, my mother was quite ill and consequently to show concern for her, I controlled my emotions. I didn’t want compound her stress.

I was the youngest in my family. With ten years between me and my next closest sibling, I rarely had anyone to play with or talk to. I depended upon my imagination to comfort me and take me away from loneliness I felt but wouldn’t admit to anyone. I learned how to slap on a smile and pretend everything was good with me.  I was quite a little actress.

When I saw movies, I would act them out and sing very dramatically while sequestering myself upstairs on the east porch of our house. It had no heat and I remember freezing to death for my “art”.

I was born and raised in Kansas in a small town.  Our only claim to fame is we had two colleges, one university which was a teacher’s college and another one a religious affiliated.  Oh, and we had an enormous beef packing plant which made our town smell…..unusual. Ugh!

How Theatre Saved My Life

My Childhood Secret

I thought I was crazy, though. I never told my friends about my make believe playing and when I would visit their houses, they never played make believe. So I decided I wasn’t like everyone else. I played make believe until I was twelve.

My father was a physician and my mother was raised in Japan when she was a child. Consequently, her wander lust was difficult to satiate and we traveled to many countries when I was quite young.

If it wasn’t hard enough being the youngest, my world view was very different from my fellow classmates. Just another thing to make me an oddity, at least in my mind.

My mother wasn’t at all supportive of my interest in theatre. She intimated I could end up like Elizabeth Taylor, “She’s been married seven times. Look at her…”Something was mentioned about me ending up on a “casting couch.” I didn’t know what that was, but by my mother’s attitude I knew it must be bad.

Trying to be the good daughter,  I left behind my imagination and became a cheerleader in junior high school. It makes sense if you think about it. That worked for two years and I loved the performing aspect of it.  I was a rotten jumper.  No one taught me how to do a round off or cartwheel, so I taught myself.  But I could yell loudly and lead the crowd in cheers.  At least I could do that!

When I was in high school, I found exactly what I was seeking –the stage! I was cast in my first play as Madame Arcati in “Blithe Spirit”.  Since I had no previous acting experience, but lots experience playing the piano, I notated my script as if I was playing the piano. I used fermatas for pauses and crescendo and decrescendo signs when I wanted to speak louder or softer. (That’s me in the photo above in the green dress.)

I remember a college theatre professor attended the play and reviewed it. (Who reviews high school productions?) He mentioned that although I was believable it was a shame he couldn’t hear my voice past the stage lights.  I never let that happen again, period.

To this day, I grow nostalgic whenever I step backstage. The scent of sawdust, newly painted flats and the warmth of the stage lights are a magical elixir to me. I brush the back of my hand across a velvet grand curtain and immediately I feel I’m home.

This is how theatre saved my life
In college, I experienced an epiphany. It was the early 1970’s, and society impressed upon me to hide my negative feelings or only express those feelings most accepted by others. I realized by sharing myself hiding behind a character, I could express  all my feelings and thoughts. I felt accepted universally.

That’s a heady experience which made me come back for more. Nearly forty years later, I’m happily stuck here.

this is how theatre saved my life\

My Directing Debut

I became a director for a community theatre production of The Miracle Worker because there was no one else willing to do the job. Ha! I have a leader type personality and directing fit into my life. I was quite young to take on such a challenging production but I took to it right away. I saw the potential of affecting people through stories that I created in my own manner.

Now, I adore making a statement through words and actions.

As of this writing, I have directed over 300 plays and musicals with adults and children alike.  I chose to direct and act at the community level for most of my career.  It’s not that I don’t enjoy professional theatre.  On the contrary. I’ve appreciated the professional positions in which I have been employed. If you’d like more information about my teaching experience, go to: The Lessons I Learned from Working as a Drama Teacher

It’s just not where my life’s journey has taken me.  I’m always open to work in whatever venue needs me.

I’ve portrayed many beloved roles–Maria in “The Sound of Music”, Marion Paroo in “Music Man”,  Dot in “Cricket on the Hearth”, Penny in “You Can’t Take it With You” and many others. Above all, more than any particular role or any special production, I have learned about myself.

Theatre saved my life.  It has given me great joy, creative challenges and great friendships (I even met my husband while acting in a show). If you’d like to hear from some of my former students and their experiences, check out: How Theatre Shaped My Life  and How Theatre Shaped My Life Volume Two

I don’t know where I would be without it.

How did you find theater?  What are your experiences from participating that have shaped your life?  I’d love to know. Contact me at dhcbaldwin@gmail.com or check out my website at DeborahBaldwin.net.

I’d love to hear from you!

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Filed Under: acting, arts education, community theater, community theatre, drama education, Education, growing up, Teacherspayteachers, Teaching, theater, theatre, youth theatre Tagged With: at-risk, childhood, creativity, family issues, growing up, Imagination, parent illness

Where I am From

May 9, 2017 By dhcbaldwin 5 Comments

I’m a member of a writing group who suggested the subject of the beginnings of my life as a prompt, “Where I am from”

Where I am from

 

Where I am From

 

I am from sweet forsythia blooms

Strawberry Nestle Quick and cicadas sirening

From the three story house on Twelfth Street,

   Bricked, lacey ivy covered and hedged encircled

From window seats with clanking steam registers

     warming  frozen feet on February days.

I am from the towering maple tree who teased me to climb it

Who coveted its crimson and yellow leaves collected

     in the short Indian summer.

I’m from singing grace at supper and high cheek bones,

From the Britts, Scots, Irish and Welch.

I’m from  Me First and  My joke is better

From  Baby Sister and You’re so dramatic.

From a neighborhood church with clear windows

       encouraging me to see the natural beauty of God.

Deborah Baldwin

I’m from an old fashioned cow town reluctant to admit it

Salty potato salad and the sourest of lemon pie

    sporting bouffant-like meringue swirled high

From the missionary’s daughter raised in Japan

    speaking nasty slang learned from the maid.

From the red headed boy coddled by his anxious widowed mother

     saving the family farm becoming a doctor simultaneously.

I’m the queen and the orphan girl living under the ping pong table

     on the east porch

Who cried fake tears sitting on a street curb

     when the funeral processions rode by

I am who traded Lifesaver candies for safe passage

       by the alley boys

Who pushed one to the ground demanding apologies

     for her best and forever friend.

 

 I’m the girl whose life vision she couldn’t see

     until it was upon her.

It all makes sense now.

Though the reasons are mysterious, the outcome is grand.

Wrinkles, scars and stretch marks depict a life

I’m unwilling to lose.

They tattoo me wondrously.

Deborah Baldwin, author

 Where I am From….

Have you written any poems about your childhood?  I’d love to hear them.

Contact me at dhcbaldwin@gmail.com or DeborahBaldwin.net

I have written some stories about a few of my childhood memories which you might enjoy.  You’ll find them here:  https://dramamommaspeaks.com/2017/04/14/five-happy-stories-of-childhood-national-tell-a-story-day/

Also, here is my post about my favorite Robert Frost poem.

Check it out here:  https://dramamommaspeaks.com/2017/05/26/my-pocket-poem-for-poem-in-your-pocket-day%ef%bb%bf/

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Filed Under: Indie Publishing Tagged With: childhood, childhood memories, Family, poem, poems about childhood memories, poems about growing up in the 60's, poems about Kansas, poetry

Five Happy Stories of Childhood for National Tell a Story Day

April 14, 2017 By dhcbaldwin 3 Comments

Five Happy Stories of Childhood

STORYTELLER

I have five happy stories of childhood for National Tell a Story Day.

I’ve always been a story teller.  I think I come by it naturally.  Do you?

April 27 is National Tell a Story Day.  I didn’t know there was a day set aside for this prior to writing this post.  I’m glad the art of art of storytelling  is acknowledged.  It’s a day when people are encouraged to get together and tell stories to one another.

The origin of theatre can be traced back to the cave dwellers.  Caves in Africa, France and Spain demonstrate a close connection of storytelling with present day theatre.  If a cave dweller came home from a day of hunting, we know at some point someone drew pictures on the walls of the cave.  They appear to tell a story.

Don’t we all tell each other stories daily?  I know I do.

I’d prefer to tell a story to my husband when I’m explaining about something that occurred during my day.  Sometimes it’s a short one–“There was a huge line at the grocery store and only two cashiers” or “Did you hear what Senator So and So said today?”

The story gets the ball rolling, that’s for sure.

Do you have family members who can entertain your for hours with family stories?  I have heard the same stories so many times, I have them memorized and can chime in on the punch lines.  I’m never bored by them.  Sometimes the stories are all I have left of that person. The stories bring them back to life if only momentarily.

My father was quite a character– a doctor, smart and intense.  His intelligence outweighed his emotions, though.  He could get scary mad, but he also had a playful side which I adored.

Five Stories of Childhood

1.  Once in the coldest part of winter, my father drove my mother’s new car (a Nash) on an iced over river, so my brothers and sisters could play Crack the Whip with a rope tow behind the car.  Unfortunately, the ice broke beneath the car sinking it during the festivities pulling my siblings along with it.  I remember my mother and I  being called to rescue them in Dad’s old truck. Mom’s car was never the same. In the winter when you sat on the car seats, they crinkled with ice crystals within them.

five happy stories of childhood for national Tell a Story Day

2.  When I was in 8th grade, my father took me fishing at Bennett Springs, Missouri on opening day of spring fishing season.  He asked me to get his tackle box for him seconds before the horn sounded signaling fishing could commence. I was careless and didn’t put the tackle box back on the rocky enbankment as I was told to do. It slid down the rocks which threw out its contents bobbing along through everyone’s fishing line.  Oops.

3. Another time, my father thought it would be fun to fly (we had a small airplane) to an airport closeby and have lunch after church.  Dad was so excited by his idea, he failed to consider the huge rainstorm the evening before hand.  We landed on what was supposed to be a dirt airstrip. Instead we became terribly stuck in a quagmire of mud and two hours from home with no transportation or rain boots.  It was a long day.

five happy stories of childhood for national Tell a Story Day

4.  It was a scorching hot day.  I never do well with heat.  While camping, my dad ordered me to get out and scout ahead for a particular campsite where were planned to park our thirty-five foot Airstream.  Again, I was kinda attitude filled (ninth grade) and hadn’t wanted to walk ahead of the rig in the oppressive heat.  Indignantly, I radioed him everything was fine. I didn’t see the two parallel trees on either side of the narrow road.  Trusting my asssessment, my father drove forward  and wedged the rig between the trees putting us in everyone’s way for at least an hour. To make matters worse, it was a brand new Airstream with all the horns and whistles.

five happy stories of childhood for national Tell a Story day
Kites flying

5.  My dad and I were avid kite flyers.  Once, he surprised me with a special kite.  It was pretty cool at the time. (Although now I have my eye on a dragon kite.) It was a beauty. The shiny red, black, yellow, pink and orange silk could be seen from blocks away.

On a trip to S. Dakota to see our friends, we attempted to fly the kite from the bluff behind their home.  It flew  with such ease and grace.  Everything was going fantastic, until the kite string snapped. Our beautiful kite fell from the sky toppling over itself like a broken winged bird.  We frantically dashed down the bluff to the kite laying helpless about four blocks away from us. Luckily, we were able to rescue it from a farmer’s field right before he fertilized the row.

Now the kite hangs on my office wall safe and sound along with Dad’s University of Kansas school of medicine diploma.

Ah, those were the days…..

If Dad was alive today, I’d call him and ask him to tell me a story in honor of national Tell a Story Day.

He’d chuckle and gladly weave a tale.

Five happy stories of childhood for national Tell a Story Day

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So there you have it:  my five stories of childhood for national Tell a Story day. I hope you enjoyed them.

Contact me at Dhcbaldwin@gmail.com or Deborah Baldwin.net

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Filed Under: Bumbling Bea, storytelling Tagged With: childhood, childhood memories, Family, family storytelling, national tell a story, storytelling family stories

The Ugly Santa and I: A Hilarious Story I Won’t Forget

January 3, 2014 By dhcbaldwin 5 Comments

A present and a blog post about an ugly Santa toy memory

The Ugly Santa and I: A Hilarious Story I Won’t Forget

The Ugly Santa and I: A Hilarious Story I Won’t Forget

I wanted to blog about a favorite memory of mine titled, The Ugly Santa and I: A Hilarious Story I Won’t Forget. This is the story of Ugly Santa that I thought you might enjoy.  When I was a little girl, my mother hung this Santa on the doorknob in our home.

I inherited him once I left home and started my life as an adult. Why I kept him all these years (and that’s a lot of years), I will never know. Like my mother’s silver tea service that she bequeathed me, some family heirlooms hang around long after they are appreciated.

I don’t think Ugly looked much differently when I was a child than he does now. Notice the fluffy-falling-off-because-the-cats-attacked-it beard? His cheeks and nose are painted a Pepto Bismol pink that makes him look more like he’s very angry than jolly. Hideous, right?

Even though Ugly is grotesque he is much loved in our house in a respectfully eccentric manner.

The Cute, but Scary Santa

The Ugly Santa and I: A Hilarious Story I Won’t Forget

When my husband and I were young parents, we also owned a cute, battery operated Santa that hit a toy drum as it trooped around the kitchen in our old house. It would march towards you, stop, then hit the drum in time to the tinny music playing from within it. Then it would continue marching. You can find your own Ugly Santa at: Ugly Santa

That Santa scared our daughters to death! They’d scream a high pitched squeal while leaping on their Little Tikes desk. Needless to say, we gave it away a long time ago.

The Legacy of Ugly Santa: A Holiday Tradition of Pranks and Surprises

The Ugly Santa and I: A Hilarious Story I Won’t Forget

But the Ugly Santa has stayed with us all these years and I have so many memories of him. To play a prank on each other, my daughter and I hid Ugly in each other’s belongings–our bed pillow, coat pocket, medicine cabinet or Christmas stocking, etc.

During winter break, she returned him to me either hiding him in an obvious place where I would find him (like the top of the Christmas tree) or merely presenting him to me like a dishonored knight returning his sword to his queen.

Every time, I would feign surprise at finding him and she’d warn me not to trick her again. Whether she actually meant it or not, I don’t know. Something makes me think she expected Ugly to appear every year.

Ugly Santa Takes a Trip

Several years later, I pulled a great prank on her. We took a cruise around Christmas day and of course I packed Ugly for the trip.

The Ugly Santa and I: A Hilarious Story I Won’t Forget

Our darling girl was at the very “this is so embarrassing” age, probably about fourteen years old. Anything and everything embarrassed her, because you know, she was too cool for us and even the world around her.

That didn’t stop me.

One evening, the suave and handsome waiter brought out our food presenting it so elegantly.  He lifted the silver food warmer and… voila! There was Ugly Santa. The look of surprise on Izzie’s face was absolutely priceless! We laughed and laughed.

The Ugly Santa and I: A Hilarious Story I Won’t Forget

The Ugly Santa

We have continued to hide Ugly every year since then. He is always hidden somewhere within the gifts. During those years, he was a way for me to stay connected to my daughter. Maybe other gifts would fade away, wear out or break, but  Ugly Santa withstood the test of time. He was a constant for us during her quickly changing childhood.

This year was no exception. I kept Ugly in my own underwear drawer for a whole year so I wouldn’t forget him come this Christmas. I’d say that was some heavy dedication to an inanimate object! In the hottest days of summer, it was very funny spying him in all his glory packed within my unmentionables. Christmas felt so far away.

 

Time Has a Way of Changing Things

 Izzie is married now and an adult. She and her husband are quite busy building a life for themselves. They are parents now and raising a wonderful little girl who unfortunately has some serious health issues.  Sometimes they have to be very serious, as our granddaughter can easily head to the E.R. Being an adult has a large share of seriousness don’t you think? That’s a heady realization for a young couple.

A few years ago, I thought my daughter would get a kick out of Ugly and explain about him to her new husband. I was looking forward to our chuckling as we had always done. When she unloaded her Christmas stocking and found Ugly at the bottom waiting for her, she smiled. There was no laugh or anguished sigh.

Suddenly, I realized that our days with Ugly were over and I felt a little embarrassed that I hadn’t realized that on my own. My dear, sweet, funny daughter moved on. I guess I was supposed to move on, too.

However, I was incorrect!  Ugly has returned to the family Christmas again and is still being passed around from my daughter to me.

The Ugly Santa and I: A Hilarious Story I Won’t Forget

Ugly Santa: A Timeless Tradition Passed Down Through Generations

I don’t think Christmas will be the same without Ugly Santa. He is so gross, he is beautiful. Toys like a drumming Santa and Elf on the Shelf will come and go with time. But Ugly Santa? Well, he’ll just have to be put away (in a box) until our new granddaughter is old enough to appreciate him. Then, hopefully, the fun begins all over again.

I sure hope so.

P.S.  It’s been five years since I penned this post.  Guess what?  My  daughter asked me to bring Ugly Santa back into our lives again this Christmas.  I’ll have to ask him if that’s okay, but I think I know the answer.  🙂

P.P.S. Well, look who re-appeared this year.

P.P.P.S.  It’s 2022, and Ugly Santa returned to our house this time. Our oldest granddaughter has been introduced to him.  I’ll hold on to him until next year.

The Ugly Santa and I: A Hilarious Story I Won’t Forget

Do you have a practical joke you play every holiday season?  I’ve love to hear about it.  Contact me at dhcbaldwin@gmail.com or DeborahBaldwin.net

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Filed Under: Christmas memories, middle grades Tagged With: childhood, Christmas tradition, family fun, family joke, growing up, mothers and daughters, parenting, Santa Claus

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