I know a person in Waukesha
She is my you
We all in a mirror
See our eyes
Know a tear a sword,
A knowledge
That if we could hear the pain
Her pain, his, they, we all feel
We sow the empathy
Even if rather avoid.
Oh her kindness
She is my you
Our us
A people who will look
Each other in the eye
And love.
Oh Kindness.
Oh, Waukesha!
©️ Thom Amundsen 11/2021
Recently walking past a housekeeper with my bags, we left our hotel on the 23rd floor of a room in Manhattan. I nodded good-bye and thank you, and she smiled for a moment but I wondered how long the grin remained the second we went around the corner. I didn’t stop to think about what goes through her mind on a daily basis as she cleans up after me and everyone else that nods to her along the way.
In The Moving Company’s current production of The 4 Seasons, at The Lab Theater, the lives of three human beings caught in the trappings of their own seeming mendacity of hope suggest an essential value we often like to avoid. Like the housekeeper we know exists, yet they are gone when we disappear in our own lives, the three characters in this fictional hotel experience life through the poignancy of summer, fall, winter, & spring, and inside each season, the human condition speaks to the turmoil we all experience no matter our level of responsibility or status in society.
These three clean up after us daily, they unplug our used toilets, gather our soiled linens, and bathe in our afterward when the season wanes and they are left alone with their own simple lives. Each character has a question and while driven by the music of Vivaldi, their actions speak to the pain that exists when hope is just out of reach, when the light disappears, when happiness cannot be attained within the mundane reality of trying to survive. There is a rhythm to their world, and the music allows us to imagine their truths are as complicated as anyone’s own. The everyman is brought to life.
The Moving Company speaks to the reality of a generalized world, while exposing our current political turmoil and the hypocrisy of the haves when measured against the have nots. The judicial system is brought into question, while the seeming confusion of how leadership is chosen by ignorance is explored in the eyes of three normal lives.
We walk past the housekeeper every day, and the spirit of always seeking the beautiful despite the disdainful existence of their lives is played out on stage with a quiet humor. The talents of Heidi Bakke, Joy Dolo, and Steven Epp play out the illusion we choose or do not choose to maintain when carving out our own lives. The balance of live theatre under the direction of Dominique Serrand once again compels and demands an audience to think, rather than simply walk past the reality of our own existence. In a world where hope is easily forgotten, is it still attainable? Will we remember two or three hundred years from today about the purpose of our lives?
The Moving Company raises the question with a blend of delightful humor spread thin by the painful struggle within the human condition. We are left entertained yet in a constant with silent wonder.
‘The 4 Seasons’ performed by The Moving Company
The Lab Theater – November 1 – December 2, 2018.
I noticed a disagreement
two people in a shot
hard to know as an observer
who is right, which wronged
Standing a little closer
listening words bandied
about with an emphasis on
pitch disregard evidence.
My eyes gave cathartic glance
two views in visual contrast
we look like the parties
that in silence divide us.
Such variables in American society
look while influence reaches the street.
I can’t listen anymore,
I’m a citizen of this country,
I believe in my freedom,
the welfare of my neighbor
the peace of mind of a stranger.
I want to understand the peril
that one family has overcome
in order to help another find peace,
find hope,
find their own sense of freedom.
But the circle of deceit
two parties battling one another,
a constant rubrics cube of
smoke and mirrors,
Pollyanna and Slaughterhouse Five,
they’re all the same,
all told before,
all recognized to be contributors,
to our own incessant
Catch – 22
of hit and miss, ugliness.
I suppose I will turn to fiction
once again,
the result of years of twisted reality,
I’d rather just …
Imagine.
Wonder about the rules,
whose design,
what makeup,
howsoever long the game be played,
is their truth in a lacking
understanding
or are we always meant to wonder,
is that the purpose,
does it give our lives a reason
for a constant wander
of the mind
to be the answer
might a patent suggest
we will now end this war,
this examination of a fruitless
endeavor
meant only to pad the walls
of quiet insecurity.
In a matter of words
often the purveyor
is left, are left, certainly wondering right
from wrong,
in a calming manner,
the world lives on,
even after the shadows
drift along the avenue
following another serene
universal sunset.
Today I remember then,
only when
I cannot quite comprehend.
I know it was with intrigue
I wondered about time,
was this perhaps the proper sign.
I would look to wonder
each new design
a telling of a simple future.
Seems we all have a memory
whereby we might all recall
sweet passion was most kind.
We walked together as one,
hoping for the same,
a recognition of love.
Seemed rather simple at the time,
we all wanted it,
we all shouted the words.
Freedom seemed attractive,
easily attainable,
put a smile on all of our –
insecurities stepped in the way,
began to sway
the intelligent soul
toward shutting their door
no one allowed inside
any more, none anymore
we cannot help put pity
upon those we left behind.
Words are different now,
they speak quickly,
loud,
their tone misunderstood
or simply not concerned.
Sharply stated.
Rude consequences,
never really apply.
Today
instead of a polite retort,
we rather quickly
use a firearm …
the natural way they say
if a conceal and carry
is the way to go.
When once we stood together,
now we elude society
steady in the drum,
the lasting hypocrisy.
When thoughts of rocks,
come to play,
the mind is alluring,
easily left to sway
the doubts,
the indecisions,
the valued circumstance,
of shared precisions.
The cut of a diamond,
meant to draw blood,
perhaps never seen,
never heard,
yet known
by the fractured elements
of delight in an eye,
the beholder,
the judgment,
the reality of one,
becomes the circumstance
of another.
We stood inside a mini-mall
watched the world evolve,
we laughed
qualified are sanity
that lasts.
We knew our world
didn’t need the blood of a diamond,
for it is a world far beyond
the material norm.
Yet today, sitting in offices,
there seems aplenty,
of ignorance and entitlement.
The crush of a diamond,
the cut of a purity in glass,
the reality in the mirror,
won’t ever extinguish the glare.
I’m sitting in my local coffee shop,
listening to Bjork shout angst toward
human behavior,
and I have to pause, listen to the words,
watch the lips move,
‘same as it ever was’
a lyric David Byrne gave us years ago,
and yet,
the conversations are still the same,
people trying to make each other,
make each other believe,
a promise, an idea, an ideal, a plea,
a necessary tool toward their own
imminent survival.
It is this human condition,
causes all of us,
well most,
to somehow indicate we can communicate,
participate, challenge, inform, suggest,
repeal,
what a God-awful reality,
when our luxuries of communications,
fall into the trappings,
the attitude, the ugly, the incomprehensible nature,
of human hypocrisy.
We are a sad face
To listen to our squeal
We can never erase
Such a psychotic wheel
~
They play their stupid games
Each one cruel as another
Doesn’t matter their aims
Just a hypocritical bother.
~
I wonder what they imagine
when fear is a constant knock
Across the pond the whine
of wives in superficial frock.
~
Is this a nation that truly leads
Or are we only as callous
As the earth we cultivate weeds
That such a freedom is us.
~
People die yet they don’t listen
What can they possibly think
A nation that whose only mission
To weigh in such juvenile ink.
~
Perhaps in time we cannot allow to forget
The natural pain and angst they beget.
Seems we’ve whittled ourselves down,
there’s a bit of sadness in the air,
the pundits are introducing nameless figures,
afraid to give any more attention to hypocrisy.
~
I woke up today with a bit of a frown,
though I did always think Jeb! a dare,
He held to his principles always ahead of fixtures,
This man not a conservative republican simple heresy.
~
He was the man that represented our office,
his values steadfast, his demeanor grim,
yet a certain panache of integrity he always shows
I am saddened even though his direction I shant go.
~
Instead, we’re forced to hear words in orifice,
the sort we laughed at in a year of whim,
now the world in all its bigotry has begun a glow,
seems the monster wakes the dead this we truly know.
~
I’m torn to understand what is best for our country
Faced with a national crisis we hear candidates paltry.
A Theatre Website 