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This Ability

You read it right: this ability. What I can’t do is see.

What I can do is act, write, sing, dance, tell jokes (my best virtue), run a business, listen, observe human behavior, give guidance to my adult children, love, shop for groceries, and water my plants. I can also clean my house (but avoid doing that as much as possible).

I’ve found that most of the world sees my disability first – blindness trumps all my other abilities until people get familiar with me. And then something curious happens – they forget I’m blind.

Often a pal will walk away from me when we’re out and about. We stop to put our plastic bags in the recycling bin in front of the supermarket and my pal takes off without me. Funny stuff. I simply call out, “Hey, did you forget something?”

I’ve always found it curious that folks in our society create an instant opinion of others based on skin color, gender, disability…hey, even clothing, before the first words are uttered between the two parties.

Years ago, when I was selling consumer electronics, an unshaven customer walked into my shop wearing cut-off jeans, flip-flops and a torn sweatshirt. All my salespeople ignored him until he asked for some help. I immediately gave him my full attention. An hour later he was out the door with a $4500 stereo system. Turns out he was an attorney, satisfying his inner slacker on his day off. My sales guys were miffed.

I suppose it’s our nature to judge folks before we get to know them. Must be in our DNA. Where disability is concerned, the ruling seems to be if one part of you is broken, the rest of you must be broken too.

It has occurred to me that Franklin D. Roosevelt might not ever have been elected President if TV sets were abundant in the 1930s. People seeing a man in a wheelchair might have had serious doubts that he could lead this country out of the Great Depression or be a strong Commander-in-Chief as we entered World War II.

Imagine seeing a woman in a wheelchair and instantly becoming interested in her skills rather than her method of ambulating. And then maybe also finding out that she plays basketball and is a med student too. It’s about what we can do, not what we can’t do. It’s about this ability.

By the way, I now only give guidance to my grown children when they ask for it. Unsolicited advice from anyone is unwanted, especially from blind fathers with this ability.

Flying Actor

Actors need to condition themselves, like an athlete, exercising and training to prep their mind and body for the work.

My day starts out at 9 a.m. with a series of exercises that loosen the limbs and voice, employing old school and new school techniques.

Being a blind guy, it becomes challenging to keep up with the various moves and positions being demonstrated by the leader. Thank Thespis for Ana! She is a petite, fit dancer who spots me and corrects my movements. We’ve gotten so good working together that our exercises resemble a choreographed dance.

Octavio, Resident Artist at Miami Theater Center, is the choreographer, movement and voice trainer for “Three Sisters.” With a larger than life presence and a smile to match, the salt and peppered Octi keeps us, the army of actors, in constant motion for 90 minutes, applying the “Sausage” – a mixture of movement, voice, theater and dance methods – yoga, GaGa (not Lady), Meyerhold's Bio Mechanics, FloorBarre, myriad voice techniques from Linklater and Grotowski, and basic composition tools developed by Anne Bogart.

So here I am lying on my back on my yoga mat attempting to strengthen my core and straighten my spine, a real good thing as I always have a tendency to lean a bit forward when I walk. I’m inclined to think this is a blind guy tendency, but my father who could see perfectly well had the same posture. Apparently, so did Abraham Lincoln.

We go from twisting every limb of our body, to crunches, to moving torso, head and  legs like a toy, and then suddenly lying still and moving only one index finger to gather whatever information we can. (It is remarkable how much information you can receive through a finger.) We imagine our hands like feet, breathe in through one nostril and out the other, at times taking dragon breaths (short puffs of air in and out), float through “the lake” and climb up and down “the mountain,” all designed to distract us from our normal frame of consciousness and put us in touch with new feelings and perspectives. At one point I was actually flying, with of course, a little help from my friends.

The music of Tommy Dorsey, Bob Dylan, Petula Clark, Stevie Nicks, Mary Poppins and Madonna provide the soundtrack underscoring the drill. (When Madonna roars “Die b**ch!”, I’m crunching with a vengeance!)

Occasionally in the mix we lie quietly on our backs while Octi takes us on a guided meditation. This is my personal favorite.

Once our bodies are tuned up, we condition the brain with improv. The improvs, led by artistic director Stephanie and Octi, are situations that are set up to inform and help us discover useful things about our characters – it’s putting wood into the fireplace.

Speak and Repeat

One actor faces a second actor, the second speaking with the first actor’s character voice while making a specific movement, the first repeating and copying, and then they switch. I didn’t do so well copying the movements but kicked butt with the voice.

The Ghost

We might create an internal emotion and turn it into an emotionally charged action, then repeat the action without any vocal sounds, then without any facial expressions, finally moving the action into an empty gesture, becoming a ghost, rotating from full out action to ghost and back to action. This helped put us all at once on opposite ends of our characters being.

Swarming

One character sits in the hot seat while all the other dozen actors slowly approach them, speaking lines or thoughts from the play, saying something nice about them and then turning combative, elevating the noise to a fevered pitch until the actor in the hot seat stands and shouts: “Moscow!” which silences the chaos. This helps the actor in the seat to experience a wide range of emotions. (It probably was a bit curious to the UPS guy who showed up at the door during my turn.)

Shared Objects

We each brought in a favorite object and shared a story about it with another actor. Later that actor repeated your story – an excellent listening exercise. Ah, listening! The actors best tool in the toolkit.

Walk and Talk

Before we took the stage to rehearse the play, we all moved around the rehearsal room together, exploring the mock set and prop pieces while speaking our lines out loud. This helped break vocal and body patterns that might be forming prematurely as well as amplify the silence between the lines. Pauses during the play are essential, especially with Chekhov – it’s often what’s not being said that has real impact.

Shoe Training

With a period play, boots are abundant, and loud. We put on our footwear, and walked the stage like cat burglars, our legs absorbing the energy, the women running on the balls of their feet in their heels. This was to reduce any distracting noise we might make as we tripped the boards.

On to the rehearsal and opening night!