It is an adventurous, kaleidoscopic, challenging, exciting, sometimes
disturbing way to make a living.
It also requires one to think quickly on one’s feet and
handle any (and all) challenges that may be thrust in one’s way.
Because the show must go on.
Throughout her career, she has built sets, created props,
installed/focussed/programmed lights, produced/managed entire shows and
everything in between.
This story is about one of those ‘in-betweens’.
And the whole ‘show-must-go-on’ scenario.
The Fringe Festival was gearing up. (The Edmonton International Fringe Festival is an annual arts
festival held every August in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada.
Produced by the Fringe Theatre Adventures (FTA), it is the oldest and largest fringe
theatre festival in North America. The Edmonton Fringe is a founding member of
the Canadian Association of Fringe Festivals. Just FYI.)
Signage needed to be installed.
Attached to the existing street lights.
Someone with a height anomaly
(as in ridiculously tall) needed to be found.
Or maybe they would just find a person who could run the forklift presently residing in the
Fringe impound.
The call went out, in usual Theatre jargon. “I need someone
to take their lives in their hands.”
And was quickly answered by my daughter. “I’ll do it!” A
forklift was a machine. A benign, helpful, non-deleterious machine. I mean – what’s the worst that could happen?
Dutifully, she slipped into the driver’s seat and twiddled
the unfamiliar controls.
Her braver-than-smart co-worker stepped into the appropriately-named
man-cage and buckled up.
They were ready.
They approached the first light pole.
Daughter carefully, though rather jerkily, raised the cage plus
co-worker.
Sign was duly attached.
Sighs of relief were heard.
Co-worker was lowered.
They approached the second pole.
This went on for some time.
Daughter was beginning to feel quite skilled. Even ambidextrous.
Then they reached one of the 104 Street light poles.
There was nothing to suggest that this was any different
than the scores of others they had already approached and conquered.
But what they failed to see was the 104 Street sign dangling
from the bracket on said light pole.
Co-worker saw it first. And tried to halt the inevitable: “You’re
too close to the sign! Stop! Stop!! Stop!!!”
Crunch.
Oops.
The 104 Street sign, to this day, sports an impressive dent.
Every time we see it (And it happens often because we are, after all, theatre people.)
we point it out to whoever may be with us.
Our daughter’s handiwork.
We’re so proud.
P.S. Sometime, remind me to tell you about the Zebra.
This week's words?
deleterious, ambidextrous, anomaly, forklift, impound and zebra.
I'm gonna call you on the 'zebra thing'.....let's hear it.
ReplyDeleteComing soon . . .
DeleteYou handled Delores' words very well!
ReplyDeleteThanks you, Susan! :)
DeleteThose are some difficult words; Delores is outdoing herself! And so are you!
ReplyDeleteAnd your working-in of the word zebra is ingenious :)
Zebra! I mean . . . yikes! :)
DeleteTheatre people certainly know how to leave their mark!
ReplyDeleteI'm curious about the zebra now.
When a Zebra and a small car . . .
DeleteComing soon . . .
At least she wasn't afraid to give it a try! My husband drives those plus varied other machines of this nature and it can be harrowing at times but then so is his driving of average automobiles too!
ReplyDeleteHeehee! Yikes!
Delete