photograph by jim wilson
The author on stage at age 17.
They say it takes a village to raise a child. But what about a stage? Thanks in large part to Tennessee Shakespeare Company, my wife and I raised our two daughters with access to the most remarkable theater we’ve known in the English language. Young parents set priorities. Upon becoming a father in 1999, I committed myself to spending as much time with my child at a ballpark as I could (a second daughter arrived in 2002). With the arrival of TSC in 2008, my next commitment was sharing as much Shakespeare as we could. We are each profoundly better for these precious hours.
For almost two decades now, attending a TSC production has been a diverse, eclectic experience of the most intimate variety. The stage for Romeo and Juliet (in 2011) was in the backyard of the The Dixon Gallery and Gardens. The stage for The Tempest (in 2012) was tucked into a natural amphitheater, adjacent to the woods at Shelby Farms. We’ve seen Shakespeare performed both outside a church (As You Like It in 2008) and inside a church (Othello in 2010). We’ve seen the whites of Hamlet’s eyes and the sweat on Macbeth’s brow. Perhaps best of all, we audience members have felt a part of these performances, far more grand in impact than they are in scale of production. Shakespeare runs deeper, it turns out, than spectator sports (as glorious as a ballpark may be).
I can’t recall my first experience with live Shakespeare, but it wasn’t before college. As for the craft of acting, my days on the boards peaked in the fall of 1986 with my high school’s production of Cinderella. For two nights as a senior, I pranced the stage as Prince Charming the best I could, petrified that I actually had to sing as part of the role. But it was exhilarating, particularly the shared achievement with my team, the cast. Watching professionals with TSC do this — and on a level as far beyond my reach as a big-league fastball — has been extraordinarily gratifying. To think the same magic we see in A Midsummer Night’s Dream has delighted parents like me for more than 400 years is about as humbling as it gets. But with Tennessee Shakespeare Company, my daughters could just about grab Puck by the hand.
For the Mid-South to have such easy and regular access to the Bard, in the hands of Tennessee Shakespeare Company’s band of masters, is a culture-shifting treasure for this region, and especially for this region’s children.
I’ve come to consider Dan McCleary a friend. A few years ago, TSC’s founder and creative director attended a Memphis Magazine event, and I had the chance to share my fandom for what he and TSC’s other actors do. I told Dan that I marvel at a thespian’s ability to merely memorize a Shakespearean soliloquy, let alone deliver it with proper emotion — proper feel — to an audience, especially a small one, within reach of the stage. The veteran actor and director smiled at me and said, “We could teach you.”
And that’s the TSC hook. Masters of a craft — be it acting or hitting a baseball — tend to believe what they do is easier than the rest of us believe. And it’s just not true. It’s what makes them masters. And for the Mid-South to have such easy and regular access to the Bard, in the hands of Tennessee Shakespeare Company’s band of masters, is a culture-shifting treasure for this region, and especially for this region’s children. Can the actors actually teach us? Maybe, maybe not. But my, how they can show us.
My daughters are now in their twenties. They both live some distance from their hometown, both now establishing how they can impact their communities. But when Shakespeare comes up — and Shakespeare will come up — Sofia and Elena will connect to their childhood evenings with the likes of Dan McCleary. For them, The Taming of the Shrew is familiar. Richard III is a haunting memory they can call upon. Shakespeare’s magnificent world is a part of my adult children, and will be for the rest of their lives. Some are born great, remember. Some achieve greatness. My sweet daughters had greatness thrust upon them.
