Author: Matthew Groff

I have been keeping an eye on the Judge Kavanaugh’s hearing, and all the news coverage leading up to it. I know the fear is that he will overturn Roe v Wade, or at least be the 5^th vote to overturn it. And then when you ask other people, the world will come to an end when he is put on the Supreme Court.

Amid the protests, and all the other crazy stuff that was happening in the hearing, I noticed that the judge had brought his kids. I have no issue with that, and I think if I were in his shoes, I would have done the same thing.

What is going through those kid’s minds as people protest their father? When people say that their dad is going to take away rights, and help cause women’s deaths, or when they claim that he is nothing but a tool for big money, what goes through their minds? The judge and his wife must have prepped his kids for what might happen; That people were going to say mean and hateful things about their father.

But still, to be a kid and sit there and have people insult your father must be a weird and hard thing to hear. How does a kid begin to process that?

You can still protest against someone, even if they have children. I’m not advocating that the judge gets a pass because his kids are around.

Just an observation and thought.

One of the great events that happens in the City every year is the exodus and return of the masses around Labor Day. It does slowly build over the Summer, that you slowly begin to notice fewer and fewer people around. Subways are a little less crowed, and the lines are just a little shorter at the grocery store.

Then, like clockwork, or magic, everything changes on the Tuesday morning after Labor Day. People are everywhere again. The subway is packed, lines are long, and the City has returned to frantic full capacity. For me, how naïve I feel, forgetting what that packed feeling is like. This year had a nice bonus; another heat wave with extreme humidity. It’s just gross out.

This year, I did notice something new. I now work in the Financial District, and this is the first Labor Day down here. This morning when I was walking down Wall Street, I was shocked by the lack of tourists. All summer, I had been navigating tour groups, and errant wanders with their cameras, along with clearly distraught people looking at maps. Nothing this morning.

This morning, it was just all of us locals who work down there.

The end of last week, I started rehearsing for another show, and I have been looking forward to working on this production for the past four months. Counting down the days. The best part of this show is that I am working with all of my friends, so rehearsal does feel a little like hanging out. Some of these people I have been working with for 15 years, so we have gone from high energy of our 20’s to mellow confidence of our 40’s.

As I have spent my time in New York, I have come to several understandings about me and theatre. The first of which is that I love rehearsing; it is my favorite part. An audience and performance are pretty awesome, don’t get me wrong. Oh, but to be in a company of players, is there nothing better? Making new friends, or reacquainting old friendships, learning to work together, watching something abstract become physical and real, and working as a team for a goal.

I have also learned how I like to work. I like being early in the space, and taking my time to get ready. I can’t walk in the door and just do it. I need to allow myself to get in the mindset, and in a sense, get my game face on. Focus might be the better way to describe it. Also, I’m an observer and I have to take everything internal first, digest it, before I know what I want to do.

Either way, I have three wonderful weeks of hard work ahead of me, surrounded by my friends.

A long time ago, I used to work at a theatre school. It was a very small company, and everyone wore many hats. On the first day of classes, the faculty would give new students a tour of the classrooms and the studios. Though I wasn’t a member of the faculty, I offered to give tours, and to my surprise, they directors agreed.

I wanted to do it for two main reasons; I wanted to see how funny I could be to a bunch of 18 year olds, and two, I remember how nervous I was on the first day of college and I wanted to help everybody relax.

The staff had a script for the tour, but I never referred to it, except to pick one kid to read the section which suggested that the tour guide should work into the conversation that it is expected for the students to shower each day. (When a student read that out loud, it usually got a nervous laugh, and I would follow up with saying, “Please, don’t stink.”)

The theme of my tour was, “Don’t be a dick.” Such as be respectful to each other, don’t be a dick. The studio spaces are rented by professional theatre companies, so don’t be a dick around them, coz you might have to audition for them, and they’ll remember you were that dick student. By the end of my short tour, I had the students finishing the punchline as I set up the joke, “Don’t be a dick.”

I thought it was sage theatre advice. In fact, good advice all around.

I work down in the Financial District, though I am not in finance, for about a year now. There are some really neat parts about working down here, and for me, I really do like being in the part of the City that used to be to Old Dutch Colony. The narrow streets that all seem to curve to the east, and how this part of the city is was paved over the hills, and wasn’t leveled.

The odd thing about working down here is that I don’t seem the same people each day.

I have worked in different parts of the City, and if you consistently get to work at the same time, after enough time you start seeing the same people, day in day out.

Today, this thought entered my head. I guess so many people all come down here to work, and the masses just all seem to blend together.

The only people I recognize is the crew at the Starbucks that go to each morning. Only recently have they started to acknowledge me as a regular. And that also be the thing about working down here; the only consistency happens to be the shops you visit.

Most mornings as I head down the narrow old streets with the tall buildings, I think about how much has changed in 400 years of colonization of this narrow sliver of land.