THEATREWORKS is actually closed for one full week! This never happens! We hope to use the time as we hope you use yours--eating, drinking, singing, dancing, eating Essie's candy, playing games and giving thanks.
It's true this season feels less festive to me than many in times past. The tragic events in Newtown, the looming cliff, the gridlocked congress are not launching us collectively towards joy. The cinders of our fire remain.
But we can certainly thank you for spending time with us--- THEATREWORKS is one place where people of all sorts of persuasions and backgrounds can come to share life,art and each other. One of our most generous contributors calls me Mutt. I call him Jeff. At THEATREWORKS Mutts and Jeffs play together very happily. We check our assault weapons at the door and then throw them in the leftover eggnog.
We didn't do Christmas Carol this year, but we can hardly do Christmas without Dickens. Here's what Scrooge's nephew says about the holidays, words which have been heard in our theater and many theaters, for many years:
"I am sure I have always thought of Christmas time . . as a good time; a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time; the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys. And therefore, uncle, though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe that it has done me good, and will do me good; and I say, God bless it!'
So it's Christmas Eve! Nearly 7:00 O'Clock! Listen to old Fezziwig:
'Yo ho, my boys!' said Fezziwig. 'No more work to-night. Christmas Eve, Dick. Christmas, Ebenezer! 'Clear away, my lads, and let's have lots of room here! Hilli-ho, Dick! Chirrup, Ebenezer!'
Bring in the fiddler! Let him tune like 50 stomach aches! Start up the dance! May your calves twinkle like moons! Happy New Year!
Essie's candy and may the New Year be ushered in by the joyous children, Mr. DePinna, the jolly ice-man who never lefteth, and Mr. Sycamore with rockets galore. I'm with ol' Fezziwig, bless my soul, alive again!
Posted by: Christopher Lowell | December 24, 2012 at 06:27 PM