A couple of weeks ago I started writing about a high school English teacher of mine and ended up writing about how I got into theatre (pretty much accidentally). That post turned into the story of finding a completely new direction I never knew existed. In one way or another, that new direction has been part of my compass ever since. At first it was an intended career, but it turned out my career followed a direction discovered much later.
In that post, I mentioned that I would write about the intended subject another time.
It is now another time.
This is a companion piece to yesterday’s post about my high school English teacher, Mr. Wilson (which may—or may not—be his real name). This piece concerns something that happened in high school that changed my life. It’s one of those moments when you turn onto a new road that ends up becoming a permanent part of your path. As we say these days, it rebooted my life.
The road turn took place in 1970, but the first real seed was planted the year before. It was my first year of high school, and I went to see a play, Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night, put on by the high school. The play was staged in the school’s auditorium, a 1000-seat genuine theatre complete with fly galleries, lighting positions and a booth at the back for projectors and the main spotlight.