Drama Club: HE WORE A DRESS!

Inside my new memoir: Drama Club  

 

In 1982, a 50s theme school dance was embraced whole heartedly by our crew of high school drama kids. Always looking for ways to push the envelope, we did a couple of things off script.  

 

First, Michael Marriott wore a dress. HE WORE A DRESS! I was shocked and confused that his offering was received with sustained enthusiasm. It was triumph over Idaho masculine ideals that taught me a lesson about confronting societal norms.  

 

Second, our group didn’t pair off into couples for the standard school dance photo. We were a unit. We expressed our crew camaraderie by crowding every one of us into the little photo op vignette. It was a bit of performance art to celebrate our common otherness.  

 

Michael is bottom left, my high school prom date Angela is perched in the top right hand corner, Kelly Sanders is top center in the red sweater and I’m bottom center in the white t-shirt. Geeta, our class valedictorian and only person of color that I can remember at either Pocatello High or Highland High (a sum total of all schools in our town) is on Kelly’s left. 

 

Somehow Bart is missing from this photo, but I’m certain he was on my mind.  

 

 

Click here and join me at the book launch on Saturday, September 16, 2017 1:00 p.m. in WeHo.

Click here to buy the book on Amazon.

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Purchased loyalty

The huge cake sits forlorn on a conference room table. 

The few faithful gather near as the room’s negative space grows heavy with expectation. The clock ticks. Phones are pulled from pockets and digital numbers document reality. The farewell party started ten minutes ago. No one speaks.

Until, “At least the weather is good for your last day!” 

Nods all around from the fistful of suits.

A cascade of invitations has preceded this gathering. Another shoots now from the latest in hand held tech! The departing sycophant’s protector in action. Purchased loyalty repaid.

The cheap decorations call out to no one, clinging to the walls, embarrassed by their own vulgarity.

www.mikelgerle.com  

Quality over quantity

Contemporary culture would have us believe that all endings are bad – that a perfect world is one where no one dies, no one ends a relationship, and no club or institution ever closes its doors.

This fantasy places our intentions in the wrong place. Instead of investing in the quality of our own lives, our relationships, and our institutions, we shoot for something far less important – longevity.

Tragic deaths are not the ones that leave grieving friends and family to ponder the rich full life of the deceased. Tragic deaths are the ones of individuals who never had a chance to touch their individual greatness.

Relationships that build up the dignity and joy of the individuals involved do not suddenly become failures when the couple grows in different directions. If both members of the couple have invested in honesty and integrity, their six month relationship may serve its purpose – preparing each for an even better (maybe even longer) relationship with someone else or perhaps living a happy single life.

Clubs and institutions may need to close their doors to allow the energy they have created to be released into the world where it can be transformed into something even better.

Focusing our intentions on quality requires more emotional risk, more introspection, and more creative thought than the mindless trudge towards uninspired longevity.

Quality requires all of that effort for sure, but the returns are high. Focusing our expectations on excellence rather than survival creates lives we actually want to live, relationships we will miss when they are gone, and institutions that are relevant to those that they serve.

MikelGerle.com