ira david wood iii's blog

if only they could see

 abuse

Sitting backstage in our dressing rooms. Make-up spread on the small counter in front of us. Wigs on blocks. Costumes hung neatly on nearby racks. Silent. Waiting.

The other actors begin to arrive. Small groups gather. Smiles, laughter, the usual banter. Technicians going about their pre-show duties. Gearing up for another performance of A Christmas Carol.

But before the make-up, wigs and costumes... there comes another ritual - the one not many people see - and thankfully so.

I'm talking about the Ben-Gay, the Ace bandages, the ankle braces and back supports. Elastic binds here, Ben-Gay begins to heat a tired and aching muscle. The back support stretches around your middle and connects with snug, reassuring Velcro.

Don't forget the sinus medicine. When the rubber nose goes on, there is nothing more depressing as nasal drip. It collects in the hollow tip of the rubber nose and waits for you to tilt your head back just slightly. If sinus drainage is unpleasant the first time around, just try to imagine a second passage! Not fun - not in a scene where you're trying to show how Scrooge has had his miraculous change of heart and is now full of the happy holiday spirit. Is he coughing from joy or strangulation? Perhaps another sip of hot tea. Did you remember to take your vitamins today and the extra dosage of B-12?

Finally, standing before the mirror ... dressed only in tights, you survey the pitiful scene. You feel like a rubber band pulled almost too tight. A collection of salve and elastic almost ready to burst at the seams.

No need to work at adopting Scrooge's posture and walk tonight. The body is doing it quite naturally, thank you! You feel as old as Scrooge looks! Aches and pains from head to toe. A few band-aids to cover a nick or cut. The knee pads don't come on until the second act when you're on your knees more than once.

Peering into the mirror, you apply the much hated Spirit Gum to the red and raw bridge of your nose. It stings, but you hold the rubber nose in place while the glue begins to dry. Then the make-up. Slow brushstrokes. Highlights and shadows. You smile at the thought that it takes less and less make-up each year. Remember the days when you used to have to paint the wrinkles on? Dear God, man; you're aging into the roll! One day, you'll simply have to walk into the dressing room and merely slip into the costume. A depressing thought - though not entirely.

Slowly, you strap on the wireless microphones and run the cold wire up your back. Then comes the knee pants and vest. Elastic and Velcro hold everything in place. A bulge here and there, but who's going to notice under the layers of costume?

Slip on the period high-heeled shoes - the ones that make the muscles in your legs ache after two hours of moving about in them. (My hat is off to you ladies who wear high heels every day!)

Now the wig. Custom made. Fits well. Hides the mircophone wires that connect to the small mircophones attached to the glasses that sit on the tip of the rubber nose. "Testing. One, two, three."

Finally, powder to fix the makeup and create the final blending of old age and color. Then, the fingerless gloves. Next comes the topcoat and cape. Finally, the tall top hat and cane.

And there he is ... a reflection in the large mirror. An old friend. We've been close for over thirty years. Scrooge.

I open the dressingroom door and make my way down the long corridor and then through another door that leads into the sacred darkness of the backstage world. I take my place as the overture begins. The cast is standing by.

On a music cue, the huge curtain rises. Cheers and applause! Cast members, swaying in the wings to the music, wink and smile at each other. Sounds like a good house tonight.

The first musical number begins. A few last minute adjustments to the cape and top hat. Several coughs to clear the throat. (Too late to use the bathroom again!)

Then, it's time to stride onto the stage for Scrooge's first entrance. I start out.

With each step that brings me more and more into the light, the aches and pains suddenly begin to fade away. Even the sinus drainage puts itself on hold for a few happy minutes. I feel the intense light of the follow spot. I speak my first line. Laughter. Applause.

Now, there is no pain. No fatigue. Only a sense of rising joy. We're about to make Christmas happen for 2500 people. It's the best medicine in the world!