The Grit

Working with one hand as a worker, online student and actor has been an interesting experience. Attempting to work in a scene shop with table saws and ladders, painting and carpentry, it was finally decided that I just go home until the finger was healed. Last week, a 200 mph piece of balsa wood kicking back out of a table saw had tried to take off my left index finger, creating several hairlines fractures and a lot of lifted skin. 

Entering the theatre that night for a dress rehearsal, a few days before opening a very physical comedy, my costumer rolled her eyes and threw her hands in the air screaming in a very squeaky Pennsylvania Dutch accent, “Oh shit! I was expecting a little splint, but that’s ridiculous!” “It’s coming off for the show,” was my only reply and I began to slowly undress. Being onstage does not give you much time to really focus on one finger, not if you plan on holding a convincing character and performance. The moments are fast and the mind must be completely focused to keep with the scene. Knowing that there is a finger on the outside of your hand, swinging out there in the breeze, broken and jangled on the inside, swollen and puffy on the outside, just waiting to be mangled in a slammed door or caught in a passing actors’ dress or coat, or maybe jammed by the slightly miscalculated thrust during a scuffle, there it hangs, slightly taped to your middle finger, hoping for the best, that was my abhorrent state of mind just before going onstage for opening night. 

But strangely, the other thought was of my father. Remembering how he had played half of a college football season with a broken hand, performed tremendously at that and won awards for his amazing will and “true grit.” Awaiting my entrance in the dark wings, listening to the laughter roaring on the other side of the door, I thought of him and his mangled hand, healed now years later and doing its’ daily work  now with no problems, and distinctly thought I felt the throbbing go down just a little bit. I thought about his tenacity in life, present today as he reinvents himself as the world turns, the crowds which had cheered for him in years before and it seemed to hurt even less. 

Before I even knew it, I was on stage, performing in front of an ever  critical audience, shifting myself ever so slightly to protect the wounded paw, creating new physical bits due to these wounds wherever they presented themselves. Listening to the laughter and applause upon my exits assured me of my own tenacity and will, proving that even actors and all their misconceptions, for all that might not be understood by that laughing audience , we can have “true grit” as well.