“I’ll only do it if you’re doing it.”

“I’ll only do it if you’re gonna do it.”

The dialog between Saoirse and Bob has played over and over in our family for the past six weeks, like one of those Instagram boomerang videos.

They’d been trying to decide whether or not to audition for the Community Theater Project’s fall production of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.  

Ula steers clear of the dialog.  She wants to help with lights and behind-the-scenes efforts.  And she wants to have as many evenings as possible home to hang out with me.  She’s not interested in taking to the stage this fall.

“I’ll do it if you do it.”

“Well if you’ll do it, then I’ll do it.”

“But if you’re not doing it, then I’m not gonna do it.”

“Well I’ll only do it if you’re doing it.”

I take a distanced, academic interest in the conversation.  I’ve removed myself from my usual controlling-mother-attempts to sway the outcome in either direction, preferring to watch it play out as a passive sociological observer.

“Americans of all ages, all stations in life, and all types of disposition,” wrote French political scientist Alexis de Tocqueville, “are forever forming associations.  There are not only commercial and industrial associations in which all take part, but others of a thousand different types — religious, moral, serious, futile, very general and very limited, immensely large and very minute…Nothing, in my view, deserves more attention than the intellectual and moral associations in America.”  He penned those words in 1835 when he wrote Democracy in America, and they became the foundation of my graduate school education in Cornell’s Department of Rural Sociology.  

From Democracy in America to Bowling Alone, our coursework centered around the importance of civic engagement for saving rural America’s land, waters, economies and communities. 

Then I took the helm of Sap Bush Hollow Farm, where our mission is to nourish and restore people, land and community.  And with that, I quickly learned the importance of balancing the needs of the individual against the needs of the community.  Tocqueville admired Americans’ penchant for being joiners, because he felt it helped people overcome their selfish streaks.  Participating in these associations helped Americans put the needs of the group over the needs of the person, resulting in a more vibrant society.  I found out, however, that by running a business focused on the needs of society, I would quickly burn out and abandon everything if I didn’t restore my introverted soul with massive hours of alone time.  It takes all my energy to operate a civic business.  That means I don’t join civic organizations.  

“Are you gonna do it?  Cuz I’ll do it if you’ll do it.”

“Well if you’ll do it, then I’ll do it.”

“But I’m not doing it if you won’t do it.”

“Then I’m not gonna do it.”

Saoirse has spent a lot of time this past year pursuing her interest in theater.  I took on extra writing jobs to help pay for season tickets to Proctors Theater, and she saved up her tip money to pay for master classes with the various casts that have come through the area.  She studied special effects stage makeup, took dance classes with the cast from the Book of Mormon, and did dance, monologue and solo singing work with the cast from Hamilton.  It seemed logical to me, after all this outside training, that she’d covet a starring role in this fall’s show.  

Bob claims he’d rather spend his evenings home with me.  He claims he’d only audition because, if he has to drive Saoirse to rehearsals at night, then he might as well have something to do.

But I’ve met the members of the Community Theater Project. I know how kind and fun they are.  Bob’s kidding himself if he seriously believes he doesn’t want to slip away from his wife’s monastic stronghold in favor of cracking jokes and yukking it up with spirited, unabashed theater geeks.  Honestly, I think he should go and have some fun.  But I don’t dare point this out to him.  If I do, then for the next eight weeks as he learns lines and frets about costumes and sets and timing and props during our morning hikes, I’ll endure the little digs:  You made me do this.

I’m not making either of them do anything.  After Labor Day, we start homeschool, and the inane circular dialog continues over lunch.  Over dinner.  In the car on the way to the cafe.  On Saturday mornings at our family breakfast before we open.  We leave for our back-to-school wilderness camping adventure, and I make sure to schedule so that we’re back in time for auditions.  We make it home with only one hour to spare, and neither of them has prepared. 

And they both bomb the audition. (Their words, not mine.  I wasn’t there.)

Nevertheless, they make the cut for call backs the following night.  Saoirse’s heart is now in it.  She downloads the soundtrack and practices the unfamiliar music, belting out female lead numbers along with the car stereo as I drive her to a college visit.  We make it back just in time for the call back.  Bob looks at me apologetically before they pull away and head down to the theater.  

“I’m only doing it because she’s doing it,” he tells me.  I smile as they drive away.  Ula and I wait up until they come home. 

Saoirse comes in sad.  When it came time for her to perform, she choked.  She bombed the audition a second time.  She readily acceded there were folks who fit the parts better.  

“You didn’t tell me I was supposed to know all the music ahead of time!” She lashes out at me.  “You didn’t tell me what the audition required!”

“I didn’t think that was my job,” I keep my voice calm.  I don’t need to lecture her about personal responsibility right now.  Writers are only too aware of the emotional beatings that result from rejection.  Right now she just needs love.  We cuddle together and I hold her.  “Get used to it, kiddo,” I whisper to her.  “If you take risks in life, shit like this happens more often than not.”  

She relaxes in my arms.  “I’m just so mad at myself,” she whimpers.  “And I can’t find anyone else to blame.”

My thoughts flit back to Tocqueville, about the importance of associations in helping individuals overcome selfish desires.  I mentally flip him the bird.  Saoirse may not have prepared for her audition, but she worked hard for the past year to develop her skills.  While I don’t want her to, I completely understand if she wants to pull away from the group and drop out of the show.  I curse Tocqueville for reminding me how important it is not to.  I don’t want to make her go on with it if she doesn’t want to be there.  But I must.  I pull away and meet her gaze.  “Are you thinking about dropping out of the show?”

“What on earth would I do that for?”  Her eyes are suddenly sharp and clear.  Tears of disappointment are gone.  “I love being around those people!  They’re so much fun!  Of course I’ll stay in it! It’s gonna be great!”

Silly me.  Did I really think this kid would put herself ahead of the group?  Tocqueville wins.  One more point for the power of community.

The next day, the cast list comes out.  Saoirse is part of the chorus.  Bob gets one of the lead roles, Grandpa Potts.  She laughs and dances in the kitchen, thinking about how fun it will be to watch her dad on stage once more.  Bob makes a show of slumping his shoulders, as though some enormous burden has been foisted upon him.  

But I know what a good actor he is.  This is all just a show.  He’s going to have a blast.  Nevertheless, we all stay quiet and nod as he grumbles his refrain:

“I was only doing it because she was doing it.” 

 

The Community Theater Project of Schoharie County will present Chitty Chitty Bang Bang on November 8,9, and 10th.  Stay tuned for more pre-theater dramas!!!