I love Shakespeare. Let me re-phrase: I once LIVED for Shakespeare. The wisdom, the poetry, the visual opulence when enacted on stage. When I was in high school, I won some endowed prize for Shakespeare determined by an exam on the Bard and his work. My name appears on the wall of the college auditorium. I considered that an honor, especially because only so many names can be displayed on the wall: there were eight thousand students (all boys) in the school then and it was built in 1835. I memorized Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18 when I was 13 (Shall I compare thee…), and I still remember word for word. I also remember Viji (my first lit teacher) with awe and fondness unparalleled. He’s no more… gone to “dusty death”… Life is indeed a “poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more. ‘Tis a tale told by an idiot. Full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.”
So many years later, I’m a poor grad student in Normal/Bloomington. I’m poor, and I like it that way. When pastor Knapp invited me to see Complete Works of Shakespeare (abridged) at the Shakespeare festival, I was ecstatic. It was not just the play, but dinner as well. I had dinner with some wonderful people whose goodness touched me very deeply. It’s easier being with people who recognize their minuteness in the greater scheme of things, a truth I’m becoming more aware of at the passing of each day. The resultant empathy towards the fellow human being is “a thing of beauty”, “a joy forever.” As I was recently advised by the doctor that I need to have protein in my system, I eat fish now. Sandy’s salmon dish was a rare gastronomical delight! So soft… so rich… and I loved the crunchy onions on top. The fragrance made my taste-buds scream. Such good food, such good people… Bob, Sandy, Misaka, Harry, Marla. It’s been only a couple of days, and I miss them all dearly. It’s easier, I think, for me to miss people. Another lesson MS has taught me: everything is so transitory, so short-lived. I have Misaka’s smile imprinted in my mind. I rely on it when the going gets tough. I will remember the joy and selfless love with which she offered us many different flavors of ice cream. The ice cream was to die for… Misaka’s smile, a thousand times better. After an amazingly fulfilling dinner, we headed to the Ewing Manor for Complete Works of Shakespeare (abridged). Bob (Pastor Knapp) told me that they brought their wheelchair if I needed it, but I was too mighty. Maybe I was scared that it might spell an end for me, so I decided to walk. Walking to the theater was not too hard, even though coming back was a different story.
The play was an absolute scream!! Such energy and such brilliant comic timing! Wow! This was the first time I had seen Complete Works of Shakespeare (abridged). I am so glad I could see it; the raving reviews I had read about the play made perfect sense. What a HILARIOUS work! The next day, when I thanked pastor Knapp for such a wonderful experience, he emailed me back, saying that he’d let me know if they could get tickets for Romeo and Juliet and The Winter’s Tale as well. The very thought made me smile from ear to ear, and when Pastor Knapp emailed me again to say that they have been able to get tickets for me for both Romeo and Juliet and The Winter’s Tale, I was beside myself. During the two following evenings, I met some more wonderful people (Jim and Helen) and got the chance to experience some wonderful professional theater.
Romeo and Juliet was amazingly well directed and acted. They were professional actors, so they knew exactly what they were doing. The play started with the entire cast delivering the opening lines against a backdrop of the feud between the Capulets and the Montagues. Beautifully done. The very opening of the play sent chills down my spine. I’m not sure whether it was the sheer brilliance of the cast or my own memories of the play that drew such a passionate response from me. I was moved to tears at least five times during the performance. The memories are many: I studied the play for my G.C.E. A/L exam, I acted in the play in 1995, I have seen countless performances, I acted a monologue for a college acting final… They all came back. I enjoyed every single actor; I thought Romeo, Benvolio, Mercutio, and the nurse were phenomenal. At the curtain call, I wanted to stand up to applaud, but my limbs were very week, so I simply clapped as loud as my feeble hands allowed.
The Winter’s Tale was probably my favorite out of the three. The absolute perfection of the leads as well as the supporting cast was simply mind-blowing. The seats we had were so close to the actors that I could easily detect their physical, mental, and emotional investment in the roles they were playing. The actress who played the nurse played Paulina this time. Her versatility as an actress was evident in leaps and bounds. What a drastic and well handled transformation!
After a physically challenging first night of walking back to the car after the performance, I decided to use the wheelchair the second and third nights. It was the first time I had been in a wheelchair. The world looked a lot different, I thought. It looked bigger and insurmountable. I felt little, weak, and insignificant. I was sad to be a dependent, to depend on the kindness of people around me. And then I realized that I would do the same for my fellow man. I wouldn’t have to think twice. This realization came from the compassion and sensitivity of the hands that pushed me in the wheelchair. The helping hand to get in and out, the sincere apologies when going over bumps, the uncomplaining warmth of the labor… made me realize that the world, despite its vastness, can be an easier and manageable place when we are surrounded by goodness and compassion. So if I have to be in a wheelchair one day, I will surrender to the warmth of the heart next to me for I remember 1 Corinthians:
If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast,but do not have love, I gain nothing.
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears. When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.
And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.
