Fog

The fog comes
on little cat feet.

It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.

Carl Sandburg

This past week Northern Indiana has been shrouded with fog...deep and heavy
and silent. I was caught in it most evenings driving home from rehearsal. By
Friday night I sat in Rachael's coffee shop and watched the fog out her
windows swooping and swirling and spinning around folks street walking. The fog
actually defined our lives this week with school delays and closings and driving
conditions and something to talk about in the dead of winter..."What about
this fog"..."When do you think it will lift"...."I was just driving home
from...."...."Couldn't go out last night because of the fog".........

Rehearsals, part 1. The first night I became Shy...yes, I did. It was an odd
feeling and one that I don't have very often, but actually a very good
feeling to remember what it feels like. It brought back so many feelings for
me...that shy feeling in the pit of your stomach when you don't know anyone and
wonder if anyone will like you. The first day of a new school...the last one
picked for kickball....girls laughing because your eyes were too big or your dress
too short...yes, the feeling of shyness.

Rehearsals, part 2. It was exciting to wait patiently as the parts were
handed out...hoping, hoping to get the one I auditioned for. I did not. But
disappointment gave way to thoughts of stretching my talents..yes, yes, I can do
that.

Rehearsals, part 3. Looking around at all of the women in the show...tall,
short, skinny, plumb...old, young...I guess I kind of fit somewhere in the
middle. They are from all walks of life...teachers, directors, professors,
retired, college students. In all of the women, I admire the college women most of
all. I wish I could or would have been brave enough to be in this show when I
was 18. My college roommate, Sally, reminds me that I have come along way!
She taught me how to shave my legs without an electric razor...how to shorten
my skirts..how to use a charge card...how to be more worldly. Sally is coming
to the show with her daughter. We have both come a long way.

Rehearsals, part 4. I am overwhelmed by the buzz this has stirred among my
friends. I am ordering such a huge block of seats. The list is still
growing...if anyone out there wants to attend, tickets are $30 dollars (I get an
actresses break!) My friends are bringing their moms and daughters...and I am
overjoyed with friendships.

Rehearsals, part 5. My parts aren't long...we are inter-woven throughout the
entire production...but they are fiercely important to me. I want to Please
my director. He is wonderful. He tells us stories every night and tells us
how wonderful we are. I sit quietly in my chair with my script in a black
notebook and listen to his every word. I want to be good. I want the show to be
good. I want this experience.

Between fog and rehearsals, there are stories...there are always stories...

As the fog rolls in one more time at the House at White Picket Gardens, I
will clear my head with a long walk...read the words of the script and try to
think of the women behind the words...light my candle for peace and go to bed
ready for another week.

Love to all, Lou Ann

Pearl Fog

Open the door now.
Go roll up the collar of your coat
To walk in the changing scarf of mist

Tell your sins here to the pearl fog
And know for once a deepening night
Strange as the half meanings
Alurk in a wise woman's mousey eyes.

Yes, tell your sins
And know how careless a pearl fog is
Of the laws you have broken.

Carl Sandburg