Showing posts with label plays. Show all posts
Showing posts with label plays. Show all posts

Sunday, November 25, 2012

Memory Lane


I accompanied my partner, Cat Dancing, to an appointment in Georgetown this morning. Afterward, she had another appointment in Round Rock. It's been awhile since I've been around the area. I was born in Georgetown back in 1950, grew up not too far away in Liberty Hill, and lived and raised children in Round Rock from 1979 till about 1998 when I moved back to Liberty Hill for several years. So, aside from a few years in Austin, I lived in Williamson County all my life until I moved to McDade and Bastrop in 2007.

Oddly enough I was already thinking about Round Rock because of a dream I had last night. Several of my friends from Sam Bass Community Theater featured in my dream, so I awoke thinking of those days. Coming back into town today pulled a lot of memories to the surface.

In 1981 we had been living in Round Rock for two years. My son Bill was 5, my daughter Melanie was just born or nearly so. I read an ad in the Round Rock Leader about casting for the Sam Bass Shootout, a reenactment of an historical event, the shooting of Sam Bass (duh). The group was looking for new members to put on the production. It sounded interesting, so I showed up and joined in. The shootout was a lot of fun. The directors, Betty Porter and Zettie Vogler encouraged us all to also join the Sam Bass Community Theater group that sponsored the shootout group. I went on to participate in the shootout reenactment for 22 years.

I took them up on the offer to join the Sam Bass Community Theater as well. I had had no real exposure to theater previously. My high school didn't have a drama class when I was there. The Junior and Senior classes did put on a play each (called, respectively, the Junior and Senior Plays of course), we also participated in Theater for UIL competition. I enjoyed doing those in school but in thinking of getting involved in Sam Bass Theater I was actually looking for something my then wife, Linda, might be interested in doing. She decided it wasn't her thing, though, but I stayed with it.

At that time the Sam Bass Community Theater was housed in the old railroad depot building in downtown Round Rock. Later on the building was moved about a mile away to the Lions Club Veteran's Park and all of us pitched in to remodel it and build outbuildings.
 
The photo is from "Picnic" which was the play that was casting when I first joined Sam Bass Community Theater. Shown are my friends B.J. Machalicek and Doug Pope. 


  
In 1986 the Sesquicentennial of Texas was going on and Round Rock put on a large historical musical pageant named "We're All Texans Now!" Betty Porter was directing and asked me to join in. I played several roles and enjoyed it a lot.


I also started acting and writing in plays to benefit the Round Rock Public Library and the Friends of the Library. Betty Porter, again, was picked to direct the first "Library Mystery", which later became called "Mystery Night". Betty invited me to join in as an actor. The first production was one evening of an audience participation play, "Murder at the Library" and it was a success. We did it annually. The second year it was "Death in Berlin". When the third year (1991) rolled around, Betty called me and asked if I could help her find a western themed mystery play that we could "localize" easily for Round Rock. I had the bright idea of writing one. I brought her a very short first draft of "Murder at the TP Ranch." Betty read it and liked it but suggested I collaborate with Barbara Vance, Assistant Children's Librarian at the library. We had a great collaboration and developed a successful play. We went on to write several more as Mystery Night became a larger and larger production. Several of the plays we wrote have been performed in several states in the U.S. as well as Canada, Great Britain, Scotland, and Germany. Those yearly productions also included Reunion With Death('92); Play Dead ('93); and Death of the Party ('94)

Cast/set shot from Murder At The TP Ranch. Standing L to R: Wiley Gilmore, John West, Jerry (lost his last name), Jeanette Crabb, Barbara Vance, Betty Porter (Dir.). Seated from left: Patti Bowers, Chip Hadley (stage crew), Billie Blankenship, Bill Seward, Lisa Bilbrey (Friends Pres.)

Meanwhile with SBCT I auditioned for plays, got turned down, showed up to help with concessions and other helpful things. Eventually in 1990 I was cast in a play. My first one with SBCT was "First Monday in October". I was cast as Supreme Court Justice Richard Carey.

At right is a cast/set shot from "First Monday".  In the picture are Jim Grisham, Jan Stuckey, Phillip Robinson, Gene Cagle, Jim Prior, Doyle C. Carter, Mike Groblewski, myself, and Mike Stuckey. (Not in order). Also in the play were Andy Brown, Mark Brauner, Ben Irene Frederick, and Dustin Radabaugh.

 
During my involvement with SBCT the shows I did included: Bless Me Father; Close the Door So It Can't Get in Your Room; Dark of the Moon; Twelve Angry Men; Arsenic and Old Lace; Bleacher Bums; One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest; and many more. I also created an extra character during "Close The Door" we named "Melvin". He was sort of an unrecognizable stoner guy in the persona of a janitor. We had a lot of fun with that, and Melvin appeared in a few other random productions over the years as an add-in. He was uncredited and a mystery to the audience. He finally got a credited appearance as the night attendant in "Cuckoos Nest." 

Along with my acting and concurrent writing efforts, I also directed my first play at SBCT. We had a directing workshop about 1994. I chose Anton Chekhov's one act play "The Proposal". I came across it totally by accident and liked it. With that production I joined the list of Directors at SBCT. I had also moved into co-directing some of the Mystery Night Productions for the Library.

Some of our same group that did the Mystery Night productions staged a slightly different style of fund raising show for the Literacy Council of Williamson County. "The Mystery of Lotta's Boudoir" was another concept and script by Barbara Stopp Vance and myself. It was an audience participation mystery but with more of a "hands on" CSI feel. That was a lot of fun.
 
I believe "Cuckoos Nest" was about my last show with SBCT. Somewhere along that time I moved back to Liberty Hill. I love the theater, but doing a play is a commitment to show up basically every evening for six weeks or so. That's tough if you have to commute after a full time job as well. I did enter SBCT's One Act Play showcase twice and won a first both times. My first one-act, "Spinner", was especially a treat in that so many of my friends chose to act in it as well. The second, "Ghost of a Chance", was good as well, but the production was a bit of a disappointment to me. My son, Bill, however, auditioned and won roles in all but one of the shows in the one-act showcase, including mine. That was pretty cool!

Sam Bass Community Theater was, and I assume still is, a great bunch of people. I counted many as my closest friends. They supported me through many large crises at the time. I still am in contact with several of them. There were so many of them: Jim and Kathy Grisham, Jim Prior, Andy Brown, Jimmy Toungate, Veronica Prior, and on and on.

My involvement in both Mystery Night and SBCT ended when I remarried and moved to Liberty Hill, as I said before. In Liberty Hill I helped to found the Liberty Hill Public Library and the Liberty Hill Community Theater.


As Founder, Director and Resident Playwright of Liberty Hill Community Theater I was trying to start something that hadn't been done before in the town, much as we were doing in founding the Liberty Hill Public Library. We did have a good production of our "Reunion With Death", and tried to field a couple more but ran into problems with venue and casting. We had a lot of public support, but efforts to find a performance space just didn't work out. We quit trying to use the school auditoriums when the school wanted to charge us to put on a fund raiser for the school! A couple of efforts in casting plays met with little response, so I gave up on the idea. We did develop a very nice Youth Theater that kept going for awhile with the guidance and hard work of Laura and Lacey Cannon, their family and friends. They put on several excellent productions in the park and VFW hall that I was honored to end assistance to.

About the time I was giving up on the LHCT, the Public Library was taking off. We were able to pass a Sales Tax issue in Liberty Hill that gave welcome funds to the Library. With lots of volunteer help, labor, and many donated materials we built our first library in part of Foundation Park. I was elected as one of the Board of Trustees, drew up the original plans for the building, and served as Evening Librarian every Thursday evening. 

I also was asked to direct a couple of plays for a theater group in Georgetown. San Gabriel Productions was a small group in an old building called the "Polo Barn". It was a very challenging space. I saw an announcement that they were casting for "The Foreigner", one of my favorite scripts. I called about it and sent my actor resume and they asked if I wanted to direct the play. I jumped at the chance! It was a wonderful production. Later I directed "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof" for them. Again I had a great cast and a fun production. 

The breakup of my second marriage was a huge blow to me. I continued with the Liberty Hill Library for a couple of years. I also became involved with the Way Off Broadway Community Players in Leander. I did several plays with WOBCP and made more great friends. I acted in Streetcar Named Desire; The Trip to Bountiful; Daddy's Dying Who's Got the Will; Harvey and lots more. My final production with WOBCP was "It's a Scream". My first lead role, and a fun comedy. During the run of that play I was starting a new relationship (with my partner Cat Dancing) and soon afterward I moved to McDade, Texas (even smaller than Liberty Hill), and now to Bastrop. 

I haven't exactly resumed my theatrical career, as such. The distances necessary to travel and the desire to nurture a new relationship argued against it. Bastrop does have an acting and film group I am looking into. I have been pursuing acting work in movies, TV and commercials with limited success. We also have a friendly relationship with The Vortex Theater in Austin. They do some great shows and we are friends with the director Bonnie Cullum and many of the group.

It's not over. Just entering a new stage, so to speak.

Anyway, this all came to mind in Round Rock yesterday! Cheers!















Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Where Do I Go From Here?

    I'm an omnivorous reader. I literally am one of those who would read a cereal box or any other printed matter in front them at meal times. I have loads of books, most in storage currently. I always have whatever novel I'm reading at bedside along with a bag of books next in line, usually from the library. In my study (read "bathroom") I keep one or two non-fiction books usually, along with current and not so current magazines. The latest book there is "Writing Down The Bones" by Natalie Goldberg, and the magazines run to "Mother Earth News", and "The Backwoodsman". (All of which I heartily recommend, by the way.) I also have quite a few books of many kinds loaded onto my laptop ready to look at should I be trapped somewhere in need of reading matter. I feel quite lost if I stop for lunch somewhere and don't have anything to read.
    
    I've accumulated books for years. I often know the contents of Half Price Books better than some of those who work there. When I was young and living with my grandparents they had a rather high closet, built over a stair space. The floor of the closet was at least four feet above the room floor. This closet had a couple of shelves on each side full of books that were mostly leftover from my father. I often spent hours in the closet, surrounded by books. I had a small light there and I was quite happy among the 1940 Book of Knowledge and the red set of Miss Minerva and William Green Hill books. And, I still have them. I've added quite a few since.
     
    I once donated two library shelf units, three feet wide, six feet tall, I think about five shelves each, and enough theater type books to completely fill them to the community theater I was working with. And, it barely made a dent in my library. (I do miss some of the books now and then.) Much of that was from a purchase I had made some time before at a garage sale of fourteen boxes of theater related books. It completely filled my Chevy Suburban to the roof. 


Can you say "bookaholic"? 


    I'm looking forward to finishing my new office trailer so I can have many of my books around me again. I will, however, still have to weed them out thoroughly in order to fit them in. I do intend to be strict with myself and only keep what will fit. Books in storage are a sad thing. Some of it is a bit silly. I mean, most of my collection is non-fiction reference type stuff. I mean, that's the sort of thing that having the internet makes unnecessary. However, having the printed books does feel good to me.


    For many years I  had the desire to be a writer. About 1993 I got a chance to write a play in collaboration with a friend, Barbara Stopp Vance. We wrote several plays that did pretty well. A couple of them were produced several times and in four countries. I went on to write other plays including a couple of award winning one-acts that were produced at Sam Bass Theater in Round Rock, Tx. 


    For several years following I concentrated more on the acting/directing side of theater and less on writing, although I did have several ideas germinating. A short time ago I returned to the writing with ideas for two projects. One is a series of mystery novels, the other is a stand-alone fantasy. I also have several play projects in working.

    Every single play I worked on previously was developed in different ways. Only one actually began with me knowing the ending, and even that one wound up working out differently than planned. Now I find it easy to come up interesting, if unrelated, scenes, but I often find it difficult to find out what the overall story is, and where it is going. That makes it very difficult. In fact, it's a huge challenge. Sometimes it feels like I'm trying to string together a bunch of improv skits. 


    Oh, well. If it was easy we'd all be authors.

 

Thursday, April 15, 2010

Parting - One Act Play














PARTING

A Play in One Act
by William C. Seward

           













                                                                                                                                      April 15, 2010






Copyright   © 1999 by Bill Seward
Characters:
RAY – a man.
JEN – a woman
OLD JEFF – eccentric beach bum.


(SETTING: The beach, a seascape *backdrop. 1975. Sounds of gulls, waves, wind.)

            Scene 1
                        AT RISE:
(‘70’s radio music comes up with lights. Morning light. JEN  is lying on beach towel face down, sunning her back. She is wearing an appropriate swim suit for the young, attractive girl that she is. The music is coming from a small radio near her. Something light is finishing, maybe Barry Manilow. The next song is Elvis. JEFF enters in his shades, his towel is around his neck like Elvis’s scarf. JEFF wears the same Hawaiian shirt, cut-offs and sandals throughout. He is holding a short stick he uses like a microphone, mimes Elvis gestures, crouch. JEN is oblivious to him but abruptly turns the radio off mid song, stopping him mid-crouch. RAY enters, catches this scene. JEFF straightens, exits. RAY moves closer to JEN, a bit shyly. Ray wears swim trunks.)

                        JEN
            (not looking up)
You’re blocking my sun.

                        RAY
Oh, sorry.
            (starts to turn away, stops)
Don’t burn.

                        JEN
It’s still early. Who was that over there?

                        RAY
            (relieved to change the subject)
Old Jeff. He’s sort of a beach bum. He’s harmless. Walks around doing impressions.

                        JEN
Let’s see, judging by the song . . .

                        RAY
Elvis. In Vegas.

                        JEN
Of course. And you?

                        RAY
I don’t do Elvis.

                        JEN
Not even in the shower?

                        RAY
Well . . . sometimes.

                        JEN
            (Rolls over and looks at RAY for the first time)
You’re honest. Hi, I’m Jennifer.

                        RAY
            (quotes old commercial)
Raymond, “You can call me . .

                        RAY and JEN
            (together)
Ray!”

                        JEN
            (continues)
I hate that commercial. Good to meet you Ray.

                        RAY
Do your friends call you . . .

                        JEN
Anything but Jenny. My mom calls me Jennifer. . .  Jen?

                        RAY
Jen. Will you be around awhile?

                        JEN
Sure.


                        RAY
            (Awkwardly)
They show Elvis movies down the beach. “Clambake” is tonight, I think. Have you seen it?

                        JEN
I don’t think so.

                        RAY
Well . . . would you like to . . . you know . . . go with me? I mean . . . it’s okay if you don’t.

                        JEN
Sure.

                        RAY
Oh well, I understand. Maybe some other . . . . did you say yes?

                        JEN
Yes.

                        RAY
Really? You’ll go with me?

                        JEN
Who else? Elvis has left the building.

                        RAY
That’s great. Meet me here, about sundown?

                        JEN
Okay.
(she lies back down, RAY stands there a moment, awkwardly, JEFF enters again, arm outstretched, cap in hand, stiff vaudeville walk as Jimmy Durante. Walks across, then exits.)

                        JEN
            (Not looking up)
Who?

                        RAY
Jimmy Durante, I think . . . later.


                        JEN
Later.
            (lights fade to blackout.)


            Scene 2
(Time: 1975, six months later than Scene 1.
Setting: Same as Scene 1. Added party music, limbo? )

                        AT RISE:
(It is noon. RAY and JEN are sitting on blanket/towel with picnic basket. They are finishing glasses of champagne. Used picnic dishes are stacked nearby. Both are dressed like before, but with t-shirts or other cover-ups on. They are watching JEFF who has just found a coconut and is miming a bowler making a strike. JEFF exits.)

                        JEN
            (putting down glass and flopping back onto blanket.)
Oh, God!

                        RAY
How do you feel, Mrs. Allen?

                        JEN
Why don’t you feel me and see, Mr. Allen?

                        RAY
Don’t mind if I do.
(he grabs her and starts to tickle her. It escalates to both tickling each other, then evolves into a long kiss. JEN finally breaks it.)

                        JEN
I beg your pardon sir, do you often do this to women you meet on the beach?

                        RAY
Only the ones I marry.

                        JEN
Are all your weddings as nice as this one was?

                        RAY
Every single one!

(JEN tickles him again, then more kisses. They both break and lie back.)

                        RAY
Are you happy?

                        JEN
Oh yes! . . . I love you.

                        RAY
Me too!

                        JEN
You love you?

                        RAY
I love you too!

                        JEN
Oh! Are you happy?

                        RAY
Pretty happy.

                        JEN
Only pretty happy?

                        RAY
We could try for ecstatic.

                        JEN
And how do you plan to do that?

                        RAY
Well, . . . our dune is just over there.

                        JEN
How do you know it’s the same one?

                        RAY
See, it has the two . .

                        JEN
Ray!


                        RAY
It reminds me of you, you remind me of it. How could I forget? Remember how we christened it?

                        JEN
You’re impossible. It’s the middle of the day.

                        RAY
So?

                        JEN
So, didn’t your mother ever tell you to wait half an hour after eating?

                        RAY
            (a bit pouty)
That was for swimming and it was an hour.

                        JEN
So who wants to wait an hour?

(they kiss again, are quiet, lost in each other. JEFF crawls across the beach like a dying man in the desert. They ignore him. He sees a conch shell, examines it and replaces it, then exits, still crawling.)

                        RAY
(Lies back on the blanket.)
Why can’t we just stay here?

                        JEN
We still have another day.

                        RAY
It’s not enough.

                        JEN
We have jobs now.

                        RAY
At least you like yours.

                        JEN
You have a good job!


                        RAY
It’s not what I want to do.

                        JEN
It’s a good job. Uncle Ted says you’re doing great.

                        RAY
I wanted to be a writer.

                        JEN
There’s nothing wrong with selling insurance. It pays good!

                        RAY
I wrote good poetry in college!

                        JEN
You can still write.

                        RAY
It’s not the same.

                        JEN
You’ll write if you need to write.
            (she kisses him)

                        RAY
You think so?

                        JEN
            (snuggling closer)
Write me a poem . . . for our honeymoon.

                        RAY
I can’t just . . . write a poem . . . right now!

                        JEN
            (teasingly)
Why not? Don’t I inspire you?

                        RAY
Well, yes, but . . .

                        JEN
Remember the dunes?

                        RAY
Ah, the dunes.

                        JEN
Does that inspire you?

(JEFF re-enters with coconut, he’s added seaweed hair to it, and mimes much of the poem as RAY says it, treating the coconut as his lover. Neither of them notice him. He exits on the last line.)

                        RAY
Come my love and take my hand.
You’ll walk with me across the sand.
I’ll stroke your hair and kiss your lips.
I’ll mold you with my fingertips.

I’ll be the sun, you’ll be my moon.
I’ll be the sand, you’ll be my dune.
You are the music, I am your tune.
You are the lake, I am your loon.

                        JEN
            (after a beat)
My loon?
            (they kiss as lights fade to blackout)

            Scene 3
(Time: 1985, ten years later than Scene 1.
Place: On the beach, mid afternoon.
Setting: Same as Scene 1. Perhaps some pop music and sound of kids playing rises as JEFF finishes his bit.)

                        AT RISE:  
(JEFF finds an old umbrella and goes into a dance ala Gene Kelly “Singing in the Rain.” He is alone on stage. As he strolls off JEN comes on. She drops blanket and beach toys. She is dressed more conservatively now and has a covering with hat.)

                        JEN
            (calling, off)
Mark . . . Amy we’ll be over here. Ray, is this okay?


                        RAY
(enters. He still has his swimsuit but wears an open sport shirt on top. A cloth hat on his head, avoiding sunburn. He puts down his beach items.)
Sure. Looks like the usual spot.
            (he calls, off)
Watch your sister, Mark. Not too deep!

                        JEN
I’m glad Uncle Ted gave us this weekend for our anniversary.

                        RAY
I threatened to quit if he didn’t.

                        JEN
You did not!

                        RAY
Yes, I did.

                        JEN
He knows you wouldn’t.

                        RAY
Maybe, maybe not.

                        JEN
Well, that would be just about the stupidest thing you ever did.

                        RAY
Maybe.

                        JEN
Just stupid.

                        RAY
That’s me.

                        JEN
            (unpacking picnic basket, handing RAY plates and sandwiches)
Here, help me set out the food.

(JEFF enters with metal detector and earphones, crosses behind RAY. )

                        RAY
            (not looking behind him)
Is that Jeff?

                        JEN
Yes.

(without looking, RAY tosses a sandwich, in bag, over his shoulder, then glances back. JEFF hardly looks up or breaks stride, but catches the sandwich and continues off.)

                        RAY
He’s better than a seagull!

                        JEN
He’s just a bum, you shouldn’t feed him.

                        RAY
He’s part of the beach. Always has been. Remember?

                        JEN
Life goes on, he’s still here, just like always. He hasn’t changed. I think he’s still wearing the same clothes.

                        RAY
Some things shouldn’t change. I think he’s happy, anyway.

                        JEN
            (accusingly)
I think you envy him. You’d be just like him if you could.

                        RAY
In a way I do envy him. People should be happy.

                        JEN
Does that mean you’re not happy?

                        RAY
Not lately, no.

                        JEN
What does it take to make you happy? . . Is it me? . . . Are you tired of me?

                        RAY
I’m tired of me,  of the person I am now. I don’t like this person.

                        JEN
I don’t understand you. You have a family that loves you. You have a job that pays good money. You get up every morning at five to do your precious writing that nobody wants to . . .

                        RAY
I made a sale.

                        JEN
You made a sale?

                        RAY
“Landscape Magazine” bought three articles and a poem.

                        JEN
            (bitingly)
Well, that’s just great. When were you going to tell me?

                        RAY
Today, I thought we could celebrate.

                        JEN
Celebrate!
            (grudgingly)
Well, okay, I’m proud of you.

                        RAY
There’s more. They want to put me under contract. I’ll be on the staff.

                        JEN
You’re not considering it are you?

                        RAY
Yes, I am. It’s what I’ve always wanted to do.

                        JEN
What about us? Me and the kids?

                        RAY
I don’t understand, it’s a good job. The pay’s a little lower but . . .

                        JEN
You have a good job. The pay is great. You’re a good salesman. Uncle Ted says . . .

                        RAY
Uncle Ted’s a petty tyrant.

                        JEN
He’s my mother’s brother. He’s always been good to us.
            (she makes an effort to calm herself)
We’re not going to talk about this any more. I know you’ll do the right thing. You have responsibilities. You’re not the same footloose boy I met here. When you think it over . . .

                        RAY
I have thought it over.

                        JEN
            (continuing)
. . . when you think it over, you’ll see I’m right. Call the kids now.

                        RAY
Jen, I . . .

                        JEN
Call the kids. That’s enough for now.

            (RAY looks at her for a moment, then turns to call off)

                        RAY
Lunch time! Mark, where’s . . . okay. Come on and eat.

(as lights fade, JEFF steps into view at edge of scene. He and RAY look directly into each other’s eyes until blackout.)

            Scene 4
            (Time: Sometime between Scenes 3 and 5.
            Place: Same beach afternoon.
            Setting: Same as before. Only beach sounds.
           
                        AT RISE:
Beach is empty. JEFF enters doing Marcel Marceau, tug of war on both ends of long rope. ( In other words, he pulls one end of long rope onto stage, strains back and forth, then succeeds to pull offstage, re-enters on other end of rope, same pull back and forth.) As he is finally pulled off. Lights fade again.

            Scene 5
(Time: 1990, five years later than Scene 3.
Place: On the beach, near sundown.
Setting: Same as Scene 1. No music. Beach sounds.)


                        AT RISE:
(RAY is sitting on the beach, reading a magazine. JEFF walks aimlessly by muttering to himself; he pauses, sees RAY, shakes his head and walks off. RAY takes no notice, reads on, JEFF returns, stops, sees a conch shell, picks it up, and listens. Disappointed, he replaces it exactly where it was, then moves off again. JEN enters, carrying a beach bag and a book. She sees RAY, looks doubtfully around, makes a decision and sits as far as possible from him.)

                        RAY
            (without looking up, brusque.)
Well?

                        JEN
Well what?

                        RAY
What do you want?

                        JEN
A tan, a few shells, finish reading my book.

                        RAY
Why here?

                        JEN
I like it here. It’s my favorite beach.

                        RAY
I don’t remember you getting custody of it too.

                        JEN
It’s big, we can share it.

                        RAY
            (getting up to go.)
I think we’re through sharing things. I’ll leave.

                        JEN
Don’t be a jerk.

                        RAY
So now I’m a jerk. Was I always?

                        JEN
Hardly ever. Only now. Sit down.

                        RAY
We’re not married now, I can walk away.

                        JEN
It never stopped you before.

                        RAY
            (looks at her, makes a decision, sits again deliberately.)
So?

                        JEN
Tan . . . shells . . . all that.

            (long pause, both try to read.)

                        RAY
Why did you come here . . . now?

                        JEN
It’s a free country. I like it here.

                        RAY
But you had to pick now of all times.

                        JEN
I didn’t know, okay?  I didn’t know you were coming here for the honeymoon. It’s a big beach, we can share it.

(JEFF marches through with military posture, sunglasses, nods to them, inspects the beach.)

                        JEN

I see Old Jeff is still around. Who is he being now?

                        RAY
I think. . . MacArthur. Yes, definitely MacArthur.

            (JEFF salutes, exits)

                        JEN
See, it’s okay with him if I stay.

                        RAY
Old Jeff’s nuttier than a fruitcake. Not exactly Miss Manners.

                        JEN
He’s sweet.

                        RAY
Are you . . . with anyone?

                        JEN
No.

                        RAY
The kids?

                        JEN
My mom.

                        RAY
Oh.

                        JEN
            (sweetly)
Where’s Pam?

                        RAY
Back in the room. She was burning.

                        JEN
Good!

                        RAY
Good?

                        JEN
Well, good that she’s taking care. Can’t have her aging prematurely.

                        RAY
Meow!

                        JEN
Sorry.
            (Pause)

                        RAY

None of it was about her!

                        JEN
I know.

                        RAY
She didn’t break us up!

                        JEN
I know, I said I was sorry.

                        RAY
It doesn’t help, you know. The things you say.  The kids tell me.

                        JEN
Really? I am sorry, I didn’t know that.

                        RAY
Just because she’s younger.

                        JEN
A lot younger.

                        RAY
See there?

                        JEN
You do it to yourself, you know. You show up places with this sweet young thing. You know what people say.

                        RAY
Middle aged crazy, is that what you mean?

                        JEN
Well, yeah.
            (short pause)
Does she know about this place?

                        RAY
What?

                        JEN
That we met here?

                        RAY
No.


                        JEN
Got drunk . . . made love . . . got married . . . here?

                        RAY
No, no, no!

                        JEN
Interesting!

                        RAY
I’m going to go now.
(Starts to gather his things. JEFF enters, beach towel around his head Arabian style. He walks across, picks up same conch shell, listens, nods, replaces it. Wanders back off.)

                        JEN
Who?

                        RAY
Lawrence of Arabia, I think.
            (he pauses, looks after JEFF thoughtfully.)

                        JEN
Wasn’t it that dune just over there?

                        RAY
            (Looks, almost smiles)
I think . . . probably not. Dunes move you know. They’re never the same.

                        JEN
Looks the same. There’s that hollow to the side, and the two peaks beyond. Remember? You even compared them to . . .

                        RAY
            (Interrupting)
No, no. It’s different.
            (A bit sadly)
We’re different.

                        JEN
What happened?

                        RAY
You changed, I changed, the world changed, just like the dunes.

                        JEN
            (Looking down ruefully)
My sand sure shifted!

                        RAY
Mine too! 

                        JEN
I’m sorry I couldn’t stay young for you.

                        RAY
That never mattered to me. You’re still an attractive woman.

                        JEN
It wasn’t age, huh? Then . . . Pam?

                        RAY
I know how it looks, okay? We’ve been through all this, the tears, the talks, the counseling.

                        JEN
I know. I’ve just never understood. Help me understand. We were so good. You said it wasn’t my looks, I don’t think it was sex, was it?

                        RAY
No, that was fine.

                        JEN
It wasn’t another woman, it wasn’t my age . . .

                        RAY
Maybe it was my age.

                        JEN
What?

                        RAY
I hate the term “middle age crazy”. It’s too pat, and I don’t think it’s crazy, not really. It’s just that, you reach a point when you realize the person you married isn’t the one you live with now. Heck, the person she married isn’t around either. Neither of those kids exists anymore. Our personalities, our needs changed. It’s hard to explain.

                        JEN
Oh, I understand.

                        RAY
Really?

                        JEN
Sure.  Your needs changed, yours, not mine. I still needed you. God,  how I needed you!

                        RAY

You hear what you just said? “I”, that’s what I mean. It was both of us. We separated, while we were still together. We stopped thinking “what do you need” and started on “what do I need.” We stopped supporting each other and started cutting each other down. All of a sudden it was all wrong.

                        JEN
Wrong? All those years? How can they be wrong?

                        RAY
They weren’t wrong. We made two wonderful children, had great times. It wasn’t wrong . . . then.

                        JEN
Then what?

                        RAY
I don’t know for sure. It wasn’t any one thing I can think of.  I think it was a lot of things. Just finally it all went from “it’s wonderful in spite of . . .” to  “it’s all wrong because of . . .” Somewhere a dividing line was reached and nothing was ever the same, at least for me.
(JEFF leaps onto stage, poses, hands on hips, the super hero. Neither of them notice him, he leaps off again)

                        JEN
That’s crazy!

                        RAY
Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m crazy. Maybe some of us just have a time limit on our relationships. I don’t know. I just know none of it worked anymore. I had to get out.

                        JEN
And it’ll be different with Pam?

                        RAY
I don’t know. I hope so. Maybe the counseling helped, finally.

                        JEN
Too late for me.

                        RAY
Yeah.

                        JEN
Lucky for Pam.

                        RAY
Is that another . . .?

                        JEN
No, I  mean it, she’s a lucky girl. You really are a good man.

                        RAY
Thanks.

                        JEN
I’m glad our marriage wasn’t a mistake. I wish we could have saved it, for all of us.

(JEFF enters, towel held like a cape over his lower face. He sneaks furtively around, moves as if stalking JEN, is distracted by conch shell, picks it up, chuckles silently, replaces it, suddenly notices sun, cowers, runs off)

                        JEN
Dracula?

                        RAY
Or Bela Lugosi.
            (a long pause)

                        JEN
You really are a good writer, you know. The kids say you’re much happier, too. They’ve noticed. Maybe there’s something in what you said.

                        RAY
You think so?

                        JEN
It wasn’t all a mistake.

                        RAY
I never said that.
                       
            JEN
One thing we learned, got better at.

                        RAY
What?

                        JEN
Hurting each other.

                        RAY
            (a bit ruefully)
Yes.

                        JEN
Do you think we can stop? For the kids’ sake?

                        RAY
I think we have to, for our sake. Neither of us can move on until we do.

                        JEN
Truce?

                        RAY
Truce.

                        JEN
We really were friends once. . . before everything else, I mean.

                        RAY
Yes we were. I think I miss that more than anything.

                        JEN
Is it possible for us to be friends, . . . now? Buy me a drink?

                        RAY
What will people say? We’re divorced. I think there’s some law against friendship.

                        JEN
Would you autograph my book?

(RAY and JEN walk off, talking, JEFF walks on just in time to see them leave. He is striding with a long stick. Towel over his shoulder ala Moses. He looks after them, picks up the shell, listens, nods, puts it in his bag. He turns majestically toward the sea, raps his stick on the sand. The sea parts in the center, JEFF passes through and off. Ocean sounds rise, fade to black.)
           
            End of play

*A critical piece of scenery is a pair of overlapping flats with the waves painted on them, probably at center rear. These flats should be able to be rolled apart or separated enough for someone to pass, exposing ocean bed with water and sky visible beyond.