Enjoy an Amy Brooks’ original poem … found only at the FAC BLOG. A Christmas Carol (Dec. 5–21, 2008).
‘Twas the night of the op’ning, and all through the house
Every creature was stirring, even SaGaJi’s mouse.
The publicity team had been cranking the word
They did not want a cluster, they wanted a herd!
The box-office beauties were prepping with care
In the hopes that an audience soon would be there.
The ushers were grouping, programs at the ready
To escort the patrons, both strong and unsteady.
The stitchers were hemming and sewing and basting:
With some sixty-five costumes, no time could be wasting.
All for them that remained were the finishing touches
Like shoes, hats, gloves, aprons, scarves, trousers, and crutches.
The techies were scurrying with last-minute chores
To shore up all problems and seal up the pores.
They had sweated and labored and worked ‘round the clock
Like the finest of troops: they were ready to rock!
The prop team had gathered or made quite a stable
Of garlands and dishes and turkeys and tables
And bundles and chalkboards and Christmas trees, too:
They re-checked and pre-set and made sure to review.
The actors were scanning their lines and their lyrics
Some calm as a Buddha, others wrought with hysterics.
They were drinking their Throat Coat and donning their layers,
Singing scales, doing stretches, and saying their prayers.
The sound guys were checking all microphone switches
Reviewing their sound cues to head off all hitches.
The set-design team had hung flats from great heights
Every scrim, fly, and set piece just had to be right.
The lighting-design team was checking their cues
Would the spotlights be working? Had some lights blown a fuse?
From the wings all the fog machines stood at the ready
To be switched on on cue with hands sure-fire and steady.
The music director, with her baton in hand,
Was tuning and practicing songs with the band.
Whether tenor or alto or base or soprano
Roberta was hoping we’d hear the piano.
Choreographer goddess, our empress of movement,
Ms. Mary was hoping for signs of improvement.
We’d worked all the dances innumerable times
It was too late for fudging or falling or mimes.
Stage Manager Brantley, our resident deity
Had busted his back to mix order with gaiety.
He was tired and worn out and just a bit dazed
But he’d kept things together, and so BRANTLEY BE PRAISED.
The Artistic Director, with notebooks in hand
Was prepared for the worst but always in command:
With the firm hand of order, efficiency, reason
Alan helped lead the way to this Show of the Season.
And last but not least, Susan Dawn, the director
Our herder and helper, and tireless corrector
Was ready to sit back and watch this great beast
And with luck it would be for her eyes a great feast.
We have one common goal: to create local history
And when asked how it works we respond, “It’s a mystery!”
Mystery it may be but there’s one thing I know:
Happy season to all, and to all, a GREAT SHOW!