Everything Old is New Again

I think we as a human race just went through some huge phase . . . a phase of not being ourselves, of turning away from something inside us and trying anything else out. I'm noticing it in people I love.

Some random guy I know here at Pole just cut off all his hair that he's been growing for 6 years (I cut it), and is returning to school to get his MBA over the winter.

My sister is all the sudden returning to Philosophy and it is saving her life.

My friend Elaine is returning to improv and it is blooming in every direction.

Here is an excerpt from an email she just sent me:

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"Last night Darrin invited me and Jane and Dave and Jon and Deshawn to talk about the improv plan. Jane and Dave have to think about it, Deshawn, Jon and I are in. It's going to be at The Avenue Theater. The idea is: let's get some really talented people together and have some fun. Darrin's willing to organize, including putting up money for the venue, and we're willing to play. We're going to invite Eric Mather, and you, too.
Speaking of you, Jon and Deshawn went off on a tangent about tracking you down in Antarctica:
Deshawn: She'd be out on the tundra, in a furry suit, ice fishing.
Jon: And she'd see us in the distance, skiing in. She'd just look up and scream, "NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!" because she'd know that we were there to take her back to civilization and back to performing.
Deshawn: She'd say, "How did you find me here?" And I'd hold up the magic, glowing improv stone. She'd gasp, and then pack up her fishing gear in quiet resignation - tears in her eyes - knowing it was time to do a show.
I peed my pants from laughing. Deshawn talked about remembering your beautiful laugh and how fearless you are. Jon agreed, saying that you're George Washington on the Mount Rushmore of improv. We were all quiet a moment, thinking, "what if....."
They make me happy. Jon and Deshawn together are a wonder to behold. We all bring out the best in each other and the mutual adoration in all directions is palpable. I love that chemistry."
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And now, here I sit . . . in Antarctica (not in a furry suit, ice fishing -- but drinking scotch, listening to classical music with the humidifier running and writing my blog) . . . wondering how long it will be before they drag me back in . . . before I start performing again.

This year was the first year I "came out" to people here in a long time. This new little weird girl made a movie for the SPIFF asking 10 Pole folk what they did before they came here and stuff that no one would know about them. I was one of her subjects and I admitted, behind a cardboard question mark, that I used to perform improv comedy and was actually paid to be a mime.

I'm coming out.

I'm admitting it.

The other day I spoke in an accent and made someone laugh.

The bug is crawling out.

What the fuck?

I thought I might have killed this demon.

Oh. Holy. Heavens.

Save. Me.

Upon Aaron

Today I said goodbye to this kid . . . he's 27 . . . and I don't even know when he started coming to the ice. I think he started as a carpenter. Then he worked as a materials person. Then he wintered. Then he came back. And today he left, not thinking he was coming back. He comes from ranchers in South Dakota and his dad has a bad shoulder. He needed to get home for calving season. Holy cow. And it sounds like he and his girlfriend are going back . . . the be ranchers. He's 27. Damn.

When Aaron (Double A-Ron) was a materials person I fell madly in love. He's . . . well . . . gorgeous. Tall, really thin and strong and has the best hair I've ever seen. Curly and thick and black. He's stunning. But then you start talking to him and you realize he's kind and smart and thoughtful and REALLY REALLY funny. He's a treasure and a joy. Damnation. After his winter he got cynical and bitter and wise. Good God damn.

This season, he and his buddies made one of the funniest movies in the world for the SPIFF (South Pole International Film Festival). Aaron plays a bear. I haven't seen this kind of natural physical comedy since Nate was a boy. Brilliant. You can see shining star in this kid. Shining fucking star.

And as I waved and watch Aaron and Susie leave the building I thought of his comments when I was cutting his hair this week. He was sort of bemoaning going back to South Dakota and I said something about family and family is all you've got. And he said but you are my family -- meaning of course the Program folks. And I realized that I loved this kid. I love him. I would travel miles to bail him out of jail. Whatever he needs, whenever, I would give it to him. Because he is my family.

There are a few of these folks . . . people I have met in the Program who I can't believe I have the good fortune to know. Great souls. Ingenious minds. Huge, vibrating hearts. People who KNOW. People who channel grace.

Aaron is one of them.

Good, good bye, young Aaron. May ranching treat you right. May Susie not live up to her reputation and may you continue making fantastically brilliant films . . . where ever you may end up.