We Rolled Up the Pants

We performed Pants, The Musical, three times this week at the African-American Arts and Culture Complex. Their facilities are palatial compared to the variety of homes, churches, etc., where we rehearsed - two full dressing rooms and an elegant green room, not to mention lights and sound.

I met lots of charming and talented women, and managed to retain all my lines, songs, costume changes, and stage business. There weren't that many lines, but they were distributed among three different characters.

Our biggest and most energetic audience was on Tuesday night, and it was well provided with women from various arenas of my past - including one that I haven't yet identified.

I didn't panic before or during any of the performances, but the uncontrollable shaking of one hand while holding the mike for one of my solos makes me wonder about the state of my nerves, and whether there's some Parkinsonism in the family.

Anyway, I got compliments from my friends in the audience. One stranger hugged me and said I had broken her heart both nights. At something of a loss to respond, I was trying to apologize and offer her some glue.

Now I need to regather the threads of my life that I left hanging while focusing on the show.