Sometimes there are some events in my life that makes me think that Hashem enjoys giving His children gifts, just for the pleasure of it. For me, one of those gifts is theatre. Or perhaps I should amend that and say the Arts is a gift. I love listening to music, going to art galleries and gazing at paintings and sculptures, and I love Opera, dancing, especially ballet. I love the creative process of writing and am amazed at the outcome of it - a novel, novella, short story, or screenplay...or a theatrical play.
One of my all time favourite pastimes is going to the theatre. I'd go every week if I could. We have had season tickets for years for the Fisher Theatre in Detroit and I thoroughly enjoy those plays.
But more than all of that I absolutely adore going to the Stratford Shakespeare Festival. I've gone to Stratford since I was fifteen years old. And I hate to admit it but that was back in the sixties.
I had an amazing English teacher back then, Mr. Walton. To say he was an odd duck would be putting it mildly. He stood about six feet tall, but seemed shorter because his shoulders were hunched. His nose was bulbous. (Now I understand that nose is often owned by an alcoholic) And he always wore a tweed suit that reeked of mothballs,a crisp white shirt, and a brown tie. Every day. His breath was stale and often smelled of onions so most of the kids fought over the seats at the back of the room.
But not me. I sat in the front row so I could watch his every move and see his eyes. The reason? Mr. Walton loved, loved, loved Shakespeare and he acted out scenes from whatever play we were studying. I've still to see a Richard the third that matched his.
"A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse!" he bellowed with an intensity and ferocity one could only imagine seeing on a battlefield. The funny thing about that? We weren't even studying Richard. We were reading Julius Caesar at the time, but Mr. Walton had digressed a bit and was describing Shakespeare's villains. He had gone from monologues of Brutus, to MacBeth, to Richard to Hamlet, one right after the other to show us how the rhythm of each monologue emphasized the emotion of the character.
The character, John Falstaff, appeared in several of Shakespeare's plays. Mr. Walton stood before us and described why the Bard had used him so many times. But he did that by actually becoming Falstaff and going into monologue after monologue from every play he was in. It was actually kinda creepy to see him do that, but I have never forgotten John Falstaff!
Mr. Walton truly believed that the play was indeed the thing. He'd bring recordings of the plays and have us close our eyes and imagine what was happening, but still that wasn't enough for him. We students just weren't getting the 'feel' of the Bard. For Mr. Walton, Shakespeare was as close to the Holy Grail as we humans could get. So he battled the School Board and got them to agree to allow us to go to Stratford and see two plays in one day.
My first time there I saw Julius Caesar and Romeo and Juliet. I was hooked.
During the course of my high school years we went back several times. The Merry Wives of Windsor, Twelfth Night, MacBeth all came to life for me on the Stratford Stage.
Like I said, that was in the sixties. I've never stopped going. When my boys were ten I began taking them with me. Miriam was seven.
Though Joshua is like his father and claims he does not enjoy theatre or Shakespeare, he is quite passionate about movies like The Apartment, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof...oh and Hamlet with Mel, Looking For Richard with Al Pacino, Othello, The Merchant of Venice with Al, even Romeo and Juliet with Leonardo.
But Ben and Miriam are like me. We can't get enough of the Stratford Shakespeare Festival. Every year for the past twelve years, we've gone to Stratford for a week and watch eight plays in four days! We become immersed in theatre and let the thrill of it wash over us and envelop us. We cannot get enough of it! Many members of the audience are doing the same thing as us and it is such a joy to discuss what is happening on stage with fellow patrons who are so knowledgeable and who are as excited as we are.
And to my husband's dismay, we go again later in the season and do another four or five plays. The three of us have vowed to continue this tradition for as long as we can.
Many people have questioned my sanity about taking my kids to Stratford. They believe that nothing can be gained from kids watching 'old' plays. Well, I disagree. My children have learned about love and the importance of trust in a relationship. They've learned that one must communicate and make their feelings and opinions known. They have learned that one needs morals and to lead a good life. That a person has to be just and merciful and respectful. That slavery and prejudice are wrong. That war is bad. That one must be true to himself and follow his dreams. That one should live his life to the fullest and achieve many things so there are no regrets when one becomes older.
And they have learned that the play is the thing. Sitting and reading Shakespeare is not like being in the theatre and seeing his characters come to life before your eyes. The difference is remarkable. Both Ben and Miriam understand that. They also understand that merely observing life from the sidelines is not nearly as exciting and intense as living one's life fully, troubles and heartaches and all. After all - the play of life is the thing.
The Stratford Shakespeare Festival goes from April until November. Do your family a favour and take them to see a play. You won't regret it. And maybe it will become a 'gift' for you.

Can you believe it? June and July are gone and we're into August. My heavens, it's amazing how fast these days have sped by. Just like life is speeding by. I turned around and blinked and then all of a sudden I'm over fifty, getting closer to sixty by the moment. Where did the time go?
I've made lists over the years of things I wanted to achieve in my life. Have I accomplished anything on those lists? Actually, a fair bit, but there is a lot that I have yet to do. Interesting enough, bungie jumping and sky-diving were not on any of those lists. Neither was marriage or having kids, but those two things have ended up being my greatest achievements and they have taken me on my best and most wonderful of adventures.
I clearly remember being twenty-five and totally not in any rush to get married, but then there was this boy, my tennis-pro, William Goldstein. He had a bizarre sense of humour, this boy did. And innocent deer-like eyes, sherry brown in colour, and he was very sweet, innocent. Will also possessed the cutest knees and tuchas I had ever seen!
It started out innocent enough - tennis pro taking his pupil out for a game of tennis. Which turned into an ice-cream after the game. Which turned into a quick bite to eat before we went our separate ways. Which turned into a movie. And before I knew it, we were seeing each other nearly every day.
We discussed movies, politics, books, music, and of course tennis. . .everything except what our families were like and our respective religions.
Being the ever dutiful nurse, I had forgotten his last name as soon as I had heard it. It was common for nurses to date a guy for months without ever knowing his last name. So, it came as quite a shock to me when a year later Will told me he was Jewish and there was a problem with his mother. She was horrified that he was dating someone who was not of the Jewish faith.
We eventually overcame that hurdle and married. June the third, 1979 to be exact. Next year will be our thirtieth wedding anniversary! I had a Reform conversion. Never really liked the Reform weekly service, though. For me there was no substance to it. Deep down I'm a traditionalist and love traditions and rites.
Then, when I was pregnant with our first child, I learned that only Orthodox converts and their offspring have the right of return to Israel. I don't know, maybe because my families had a huge German/ Austrian/ Czech Republic background that none of us descendants knew anything about, but whatever the reason I really needed to know that, should something happen, my children would have the right of return to Israel. So I underwent Orthodox conversion classes and began attending the Orthodox synagogue of our community. It felt right, and it felt good. I loved it. I became an Orthodox Jew three months after our second child, Benjamin was born. I also became Kosher and Shomer Shabbos.
Will's family, especially his mom, were upset by this. Why I don't know. Only Will's father, Moshe, stood by my decision to raise our children in the Orthodox faith. He said one of his biggest regrets was not being more religious and raising his kids to be Orthodox and kosher. And not keeping in touch with his more distant relatives. I didn't even know my distant relatives names! I thought then, that perhaps I should try to find something more about my grandfather's family in Europe. Never did though.
Then an interesting thing happened. When Josh was ten, we had to do a family tree. I called the only distant relative from my grandmother's side that I knew, my great Aunt Lenora, in Texas. Turns out my great-grandmother's father's father had been a Rabbi. Last name Holstein. Hmmm.
And then out of the blue, seventeen years later, my cousin, Donna Dale calls me. She's become obsessed about our mothers' family tree and has been researching it like crazy.
"Hey, Pam, this is your cousin Donna Dale."
"Hi Donna, what's up?"
"Remember how our grandfather always said he never knew if he was Austrian or Czech-Republic?"
I sighed. "No, I don't remember that. I only remember when he became senile he suddenly decided he was Polish and stopped speaking German and would only speak Polish. Why?"
"Well, remember when he said he changed his name?"
"Uhm, what I recall is that when he arrived in the States, the Immigration officer changed his name to Pilch from Pilzig."
"Really? Well, anyway, that doesn't matter. Guess what?"
"Okay, I'll bite. What?"
"I found Grandpa's cousin in Czechoslavakia. He's in his nineties and told me their entire history. He's got it written down. Guess what Grandpa's mother's maiden name was? Rabin!"
I wasn't following why she was so excited. I'd only had one tea that day and the brain wasn't functioning with all cylinders. "Okayyyyyy..."
Donna became exasperated. "Listen, you're the one who married the Jew. Grandpa's mother was the sister of Itzhak Rabin's mother! Look at his face and you can see the family resemblance! Uncle Willie looks exactly like him."
I frowned. "Uncle Willie looks exactly like Prince Phillip."
"I'm telling you they have the same features. Take a closer look. We're Jewish."
"The Jewish lineage comes from the mother's side of the family and that's -"
"Yeah, yeah, but there's nothing to substantiate that. This is for sure, for real! I'll email the details."
As is typical of my extended family, it's been weeks and I'm still waiting for that email. So, I've gone back to pondering where the years have flown and thinking of the lists of all of those things I wanted to achieve in my life and the places I wanted to go. I've written three manuscripts....have to work on getting them published.....Have to plan a trip to China...and I've always wanted to paint watercolors......and ballroom dancing....gotta find some classes.....