July 4, 2006: A Fun, Festive and Tuneful Fourth

I do not, for a moment, wish to slight other Fourth of July celebrations I have been part of or to imply that this one was the only good one among the many I have celebrated throughout my life. Even so, it probably ranks as the best one, or at least the best one I can remember.

Oddly enough, the day got off to a bad start. I was involved in a show, at the time, which was going to open in the second weekend of July. The show was South Pacific. I had originally signed on to be the rehearsal assistant, figuring that, at 61, I was too old to be a convincing American sailor. Little did I know that the eventual squad would feature two gobs even older than I. After the auditions, the director discovered that the only other fellow (besides me) in the entire cast who could speak French was the one playing Emile de Becque, the leading man. As a result, without an audition or even consultation, I automatically became cast as his French-speaking houseboy, in addition to my rehearsal duties. It was the only show I've done in over twenty years' time where my lines were all in a language other than English.

N ow, this theatrical company always opened its summer show in the second weekend in July, because that was when they had the theater (which the county owned, not the company) available to them. It was (and is) a nice space, so nobody was looking to change anything in that regard. As a result, the issue of what to do about the Fourth of July was always a factor. In the recent past, the holiday was just that, a holiday, which meant no rehearsal, no matter how close to opening night they were. Of course, there was often a price we had to pay for that little luxury. In my first show with that company, Guys and Dolls, July 3^rd fell on a Sunday, so the director had us run the show three times. Three times! By the time we left the theater, late that night, I was so tired and footsore, I thought for a moment about driving all the way home in first gear, to at least give my left foot a rest. I had the following day off for the Fourth, all right, but I was too pooped to leave the house.

This year, though, the director determined he wanted to rehearse on the morning of July 4^th. He must have sensed that the cast was none-too-thrilled about getting put through their paces, yet again, on what was supposed to be a day off. As a result, he became very defensive and ill-tempered, even to a greater extent than we were. It was not a productive rehearsal, and all of us left the place in a lousy mood.

One seemingly small consolation was that we had a Fourth of July party to go to. The lady who was serving as our music director had invited the cast and crew to her parents' place in Olney (Maryland) for a cook-out. It turned out to be just the ticket to completely turn around what had started out to be perhaps our worst Fourth of July ever.

First of all, we had a feed that couldn't be beat. I myself contributed a watermelon I had selected from Trader Joe's the day before, and it was maybe the ripest, tastiest one I had bought in many a year. There were all the burgers and franks you could eat (and then some), and a good many more tasty treats. Properly done, the Fourth of July is a day for unbridled gluttony, second only to Thanksgiving.

Before we got into the more strenuous fun and games, we occupied ourselves in the amateur equivalent of a "bus-driver's holiday" and sang. Yes, we had been singing all morning and resenting it, but that was by order. At the party, we got to sing what we wanted, when we wanted to. This is not meant as a dig at either Rodgers or Hammerstein, who wrote one of the great musicals of the century. But then, we had been over that material enough already and were glad to sing some other stuff.

It being the Fourth of July, we did not slight the patriotic music in our songfest. We sang "God Bless America" and "You're a Grand Old Flag," among others. There were a number of popular songs and show tunes in the mix. Then, somehow, we got on a kick of our college alma maters.

When it came my turn, I sang the first verse to Kenyon's great song about its founder, Philander Chase. Bishop Chase (and what an inappropriate name for a bishop, you might think) founded the school in 1827, with the backing of the Anglican Church. The song about his quest begins:

The first of Kenyon's goodly race

Was that great man Philander Chase.

He climbed the hill and said a prayer,

And founded Kenyon College there.

I then added a lampoon verse:

The first of Kenyon's goodly race

Was that great man Philander Chase.

He climbed the hill and said

HUFF! HUFF! WUPH! GASP! HUFF! HUFF! HUFF!

As there were young ladies present, I left the most common variant of the song alone, even if it is undoubtedly well-known to every student who ever went to the school:

The first of Kenyon's goodly race

Was that great man Philander Chase.

He climbed the hill and let a fart,

And that's how Kenyon got its start.

After the songfest, we got into the more physical games, until we were tired enough to adjourn inside for some mental games and other related nonsense. By nonsense, I mean I got to recite two of my favorite Glub Dzmc poems, "Captain Biscotti" and "The Lady and the Emperor." The former was about a mythical operatic pirate, while the latter featured a meeting between the two most famous naked people in folklore.

Glub's poetry aside, it was one of the most fun and stimulating parties I had been to in a while, Fourth of July or not. It served not only show us all a good time, it bound up the feelings of anger and resentment that had accompanied our preparation for the upcoming show. As a result, we opened with a bang and never looked back for the entire run.

Happy this Fourth of July to one and all!

Sources

Actual experience