Life would be much easier if we still lived in prehistoric age.
Although human being then did not have all the modern conveniences we
enjoy today, they, well, did not have to worry about organizing Chinese New
Year program, either. I suspect
the biggest show then was the one put out by the Mother Nature where she would
send down tens of thousands of meteors from outer space.
People would just lie down on the sandy beach sipping fresh coconut
juice while watching the fireballs flew across the pitch dark universe and
plunged beyond the horizon. No rehearsal, no scheduling, and yet the show would be
flawless and spectacular. That
was then and this is now….
I wasn’t going to accept the challenge when Duncan first talked to me
about the job of managing the stage for CCCA’s 2001 Chinese New Year
Program. For me to get involved
in an event requiring epic organizational and communication skills--a skill
set I never acquire, it means one and only one thing: a disaster
bound-to-happen. Like many people
who do not want to go through this kind of hassle in their busy lives, I could
come up with fifty excuses not to take on this job.
The only difference is that I could name my excuses faster than anyone
else could.
I
started to formulate the excuses that could be used to turn down Duncan’s
request. Just then, an image
flash right in front of my eyes, an image of June (Duncan’s wife, for those
who do not know her English name) holding up dishes after dishes of delicacy
she prepared for every parties held in their mansion.
I started to get dizzy, confused, and hungry.
I struggled for about five seconds before I heard the word “yes”
slipped out of my already watery mouth.
Thoughtlessly, I accepted the responsibility and the countdown to a
disaster officially began!
Up to this point, life had not changed much.
I still went to work as usual and went through most of the days without
even thinking about the Chinese New Year program. I still enjoyed my Tommy’s chili burger and chili fries
every now and then without worrying too much about my weight. I was more or less able to maintain the blackness and counts
of hairs. The only thing I
did remotely close to the preparation of the program is picking up a book on
stage management from a local bookstore and flipping through it quickly.
Many individuals who mistakenly thought I was the “chosen-one” for
the job tried to guide me to the right path by giving me all kinds of
suggestions, tips, and encouragement. Many times, I attempted to hint the world that I wasn’t the
“chosen-one” but nobody seemed to be listening. [This reminds me of the movie: “Matrix”.]
I
decided to go with the flow and accept the fact of being a stage manager.
I figured that CCCA is an organization packed with talents and capable
individuals. I was so sure that
when the time comes, I would get all the help I need from them.
The first winter storm of 2001 weighed in with several days of heavy
rain. Things at work
started to heat up as they usually do in my line of work.
New management initiatives, outstanding projects, and various statutory
requirements almost filled up all the spaces in my calendar with deadlines.
Suddenly, it dawned on me that the CCCA New Year Program was only weeks
away! I started to grow worry.
The
drizzle had stopped. I gazed from
behind my desk and into the world outside my office windows.
To my amaze, a rainbow appeared directly above Victory and Owensmouth
intersection! I have never been
so close to a rainbow. I can
almost see the pot of gold at the end of rainbow (right behind the Boeing’s
building for those who want to find the gold.)
Its surreal colors dressed up the dismal world so magnificently that I
wished I could frame what I saw into a picture and permanently preserve the
image.
Just
as quickly it appeared the rainbow vanished without a trace.
The show was over with unheard applause in the hearts of many that
stopped what they were doing and looked up the sky that afternoon.
No planning and no rehearsal, yet the rainbow show is elegant and
impressive – a performance only the Mother Nature can give.
We
are only human and in no way can we human put out a show like the rainbow show
I saw in that dreadful afternoon. A
program such as our New Year program is prone to mistakes.
Doesn’t matter how close we are to Hollywood, we are no professionals
when it comes to theatrical production. There
are millions things could go wrong in a production: sound and light don’t
go; kids running around on the stage; performers don’t show up on time;
program producers argue for retakes… just to name a few.
We only have one rehearsal to discover these potential problems and one
rehearsal to fix them, not to mention the second rehearsal is only hours
before the official show time. Neither
do I have the experience to recognize these problems in advance, nor do I have
the ability to resolve them at the spot.
This leaves me only one thing to do: planning.
“In preparing for
battle I have always found that plans are useless, but planning is
indispensable.” ----- Dwight D. Eisenhower
I
couldn’t agree with this more. Planning
is a tedious and time-consuming process.
Most of the time it is useless because things always turn out to be
different from the plan. Nevertheless,
through the process of planning, we learn about the system, understand the
objective, construct the framework, and build up a team.
I
glanced at the outside world again. I
saw the blue sky started to reveal itself from behind patches of dark clouds. I took out a notepad and pen and started to draw out a plan
for the New Year program as the familiar tune played out over the speaker in
the ceiling: “I can see clearly now
that the rain’s gone...”
Sometimes
I wondered if Albert Einstein ever bothered to explain why is that the time
usually slows down as your anxiety level goes up.
It seemed, during this final period of my career as a pseudo-stage
manager, that the clock always went backward every time I looked at it. Nights particularly were stretched out so long that they
provided almost unlimited show time for certain nightmares to recur hundred or
more times each night. The
nightmares usually started with bright lights, singing and dancing of some
sort, and ended with some frantic chases involving some angry teachers and
parents from the Chinese School and myself.
I
was worried primarily about some of the criticism I heard in the past about
our program. More than often the criticism was toward the prolonged
rehearsal and program run time. It’s
one thing to be critical but quite another when it’s your turn to be
responsible for the outcome. I
knew I couldn’t anticipate and solve all programming and production issues,
but I wanted to at least address this criticism.
I might not be able to divert the looming disaster but if I could make
our show conclude on a relatively timely basis, I could, perhaps, earn a
pardon from Duncan much like the one Marc Rich got from Bill Clinton.
I
pondered on the issue whenever I could and as hard as my underdeveloped brain
could think. As the clock ticking away towards the first scheduled
rehearsal, I still didn’t come up with any meaningful strategy. I decided to do what I do best: keep my fingers crossed.
I got up that morning with severe hangover caused by numerous bad
dreams I had had the night before. I
didn’t remember how many times in those dreams I was chased by performers
who had turned into vicious monsters; stage lights turned in to fireballs and
started to rain down on me… This
was the day for our first rehearsal and I wasn’t sure if I could go through
it under that kind of physical condition.
Fortunately, after a cup of Grande-drip from Starbucks, I was able to
regain my strength to the most part.
About 4:30 p.m., I abandoned my work and nervously headed toward the
Arts Plaza. I had no clue as to
exactly what would happen that night but I did have some idea: there would be
people screaming at me and arguing with me.
I knew that by the time the night was over, I would break some
friendships and gain a lot of resentments.
These things were anticipated and I was ready for that.
But I wasn’t ready for the much bigger and difficult challenges: all
those technical issues related to stage lights and sound, props, curtains,
timing… So, as I was driving
down the freeway 101, I couldn’t help but keep checking my hands to make
sure my fingers were still crossed.
The
evening started out slow but it shifted to high gear quickly.
The so many things going on around me all at the same time overwhelmed
me. The color lights shot out
from the lighting instruments in every direction only served to further
confuse me. While my left ear,
muffled under a heavy and awkward headset, clogged with conversation conducted
in highly technical terms in English, my right ear was interjected with
suggestions, complaints, questions, and requests in Chinese.
Oh, God! How I wish I had
a duel-processors brain that could help me decipher all the information I was
taking in that night.
Not
surprisingly, the evening ended at a flat note.
I made some conscious decisions to allow certain programs to rehearse
more than once and that alone resulted in a rehearsal lasting more than four
hours. Sure enough, I heard the same criticism that I had been
warned about. The way the
rehearsal was conducted that night seemed to suggest that pending disaster
would soon become reality!
While
I was driving home on the T.O. Boulevard after the rehearsal that night, an
unusual tranquility started ascending from nowhere.
That feeling maybe attributable to the quietness in the street or the
coldness and darkness of the night. Or
it could be the tune from Jimmy Buffett’s “Frenchman for Tonight.”
I wasn’t sure and I didn’t bother to explain either.
As I directed my car into Lindero Canyon, the moon appeared over the
hillside to my right. For the first time, I swear, I saw the moon smiled at me with
her pale but kind moonlight. “Perhaps,
this won’t be a disaster after all,” I murmured as I smiled back at the
moon.
“This is it! Don’t get
scared.” This is a phrase
spoken by young Kevin in the original “Home Alone” movie as he was getting
ready to fend off the two crooks coming to rob his house.
I wasn’t going to fight any criminals that night but those words did
provide the last minute encouragement I needed to start the long night.
The relatively smooth rehearsal we had that afternoon gave me the
additional confidence I was looking for.
All team members were in their assigned positions by 6:30 p.m.
We were ready to work like a well-oiled lean-mean machine.
Soon the curtains were up, color lights lit up the stage, and the music
filled the air with fragrant of joy. We
were able to move group after group of performers in and out of the stage in a
rather orderly fashion. All
programs were executed according to the production plan with only minor
hiccups.
As
the night progressed, it became clear to me that what we had been working so
hard for wasn’t simply to put this one-night only show on the stage.
For every story that was told and every dance that was danced, there
was a group of parents, teachers, and students who invested enormous amount of
energy and efforts to make it all happened.
What displayed on the stage in front of the audience was more than meet
the eyes. It’s the passion to
our culture; the sense to our community; and most of all, our love to our
children that were under those glamour costumes and behind those innocent
smiling faces.
By
the time the last program was over, the emotion inside the theater had reached
its climax. I couldn’t see the
facial expression of the audience from where I stood on the back stage but
their excitement and emotion were so compelling that their generous applause
continued for as long as I could recall.
Now
that we have harvested the fruits of our labor, life begins to go back to
normal. To some this maybe the
time to start thinking about next year’s program.
To me, however, this means I can once again enjoy my weekend afternoon
nap in the family room sofa in front of some disappointing Lakers’ games on
TV. I am not too worried about
those gray hairs that crept up my scalp in the last few weeks because I know
one of these nights Teri will pluck them all out one-by-one.
I
have to admit that I had a great time playing the role of a stage manager.
The program did not turn out to be the disaster that I thought it would
be. Will I do it again?
Probably not! Remember: I haven’t given my fifty excuses to Duncan for
not taking on the job, yet. Trust
me, these are all genuine, no-nonsense excuses.
If I could give my two cents worth, however, I think it’s about time
we pass the baton to the next generation.
That’s right, to the children who have demonstrated to us their
abilities to take over this kind of responsibility. Look at the choreography they have put together over the
years, the plays they have helped perfect, and the new ideas they have brought
to the programs. It is time
to share with them not only the front stage, but also the back stage and off
stage. Personally, I’m tired of
being a stereotypical Chinese parent who always plans everything for his
children. Let’s get them
involved in every aspects of the theatrical production!
This will be a very rewarding experience to them and could have a
profound and long-lasting impact on their lives.