Friday, November 04, 2005


This probably more rightly belongs over on mindfull, as knitting plays no part in the story, but I'll talk a bit about it here.

"A Piece of My Heart" opened last night. It's tough. I watched my son "die" 3 times --- each time wearing fatigues. Each time painfully. Each time making me realize that one day he might wear fatigues for real.

I was a Tail-End Baby Boomer: born in 1960. Yet I remember Vietnam quite clearly. Remember Huntley and Brinkley giving body counts each night on the news. (There's a scene in the play where Briton plays a news anchor, doing just that. That was also hard / spine-shivering.) I was aware of how divisive the war was, and I was old enough to really, fully comprehend what was happening when the men and women came home and were spat upon. Literally and figuratively. The play deals with that, too.

Most of the audience were high schoolers. They don't know. Can't. Hopefully, they got a taste of it last night. A few people there were my age, and older. We were all visibly shaken.

I had to bring Hannah home before the first act was over. She couldn't watch it anymore.

The play ends at the Vietnam Memorial Wall. Each of the girls' characters has come to see it. Briton hobbles on as a double amputee with a cane, and recognizes the nurse that took care of him in the field. He hooks his cane on his arm and takes a few halting steps on his artificial legs, into her arms. I broke. He was crying, too. I could hear his voice give way.

We aren't there tonight. Too much to see twice in a row. Hannah won't go back tomorrow, for the close, but I will. It will be a little better, I guess, because I know what's coming. But we better never not cry over things like this.


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