Beth Bornstein Dunnington
  • Home
  • Big Island Writers' Workshops/Galleries
    • Write Now Online
    • In-person Workshops
    • Writing Retreats
    • Writers' Portraits
    • Testimonials
  • Theatre
    • Acting Gallery
    • Directing Gallery
    • Class Gallery
  • Waking Up In Hawai'i Blog
  • Bios
    • Writing
    • Theatre
  • Calendar
  • Contact
  • New on Facebook
  • Performing The Story
  • Performing the Story Gallery
Picture
Picture
A Circle Of Women

February 2, 2018

Something extraordinary at LAX today… (writing this on the plane). I was at the gate, waiting to get on my plane to Portland. Flights to two different cities were boarding on either side of the Portland fight. A toddler who looked to be eighteen or so months old was having a total meltdown, running between the seats, kicking and screaming, then lying on the ground, refusing to board the plane (which was not going to Portland). His young mom, who was clearly pregnant and traveling alone with her son, became completely overwhelmed… she couldn’t pick him up because he was so upset, he kept running away from her, then lying down on the ground, kicking and screaming again. The mother finally sat down on the floor and put her head in her hands, with her kid next to her still having a meltdown, and started crying.

Then, this gorgeous thing (I’m crying just writing this)… the women in the terminal, there must have been six or seven of us, not women who knew each other, approached and surrounded her and the little boy and we knelt down and formed a circle around them. I sang “The Itsy Bitsy Spider” to the little boy… one woman had an orange that she peeled, one woman had a little toy in her bag that she let the toddler play with, another woman gave the mom a bottle of water. Someone else helped the mom get the kid’s sippy cup out of her bag and give it to him. It was so gorgeous, there was no discussion and no one knew anyone else, but we were able to calm them both down, and she got her child on the plane.

Only women approached. After they went through the door we all went back to our separate seats and didn’t talk about it… we were strangers, gathering to solve something. It occurred to me that a circle of women, with a mission, can save the world.

I will never forget that moment.

West Side Story in the Uber

10/20/2019

 
Picture
When you get into a conversation with your Uber driver in LA about his life and he ends up telling you his story.

His brother was a member of the Grape Street Watts Crips and was killed by a rival gang, the Bounty Hunter Bloods, and he, the driver, I'll call him J, was a member of the Compton Front Hood Crips.

His story takes you deep into the gang wars of LA and the violence he witnessed, the young people, including his friends, who lost their lives to the rivalry between the Crips and the Bloods, and how if you grew up in Compton you had to be a member of one of the gangs for protection.

And then your contribution to the conversation is that you directed "West Side Story" in Hawaii last summer.

As soon as this comes out of your mouth, you realize it's the lamest thing you've ever said, basically telling this former gang member that you directed the musical theater version of what he actually lived, and then, to make it worse, THIS comes out of your mouth:

"People died in West Side Story too, Bernardo and Riff, in the Rumble. Of course, that's a dance..."

And as you trail off (before you tell him that Tony was also killed, by Chino, at the end of the musical, which is what you were about to say next), you're aware that you've dug the deepest possible conversation grave for yourself, maybe saying the most inappropriate thing you could say.

But he surprises you by laughing a big, full-bodied laugh (because he realizes that comparing the musical theatre version to what really happened is ridiculous) and then he tells you that West Side Story is his favorite musical. He "saw the movie a whole bunch of times." 

And you ask him if he knows this one and you start to sing the Jets Song:

"When you're a Jet you're a Jet all the way from your first cigarette to your last dyin' day..." and he does know it and he JOINS YOU in the song.

And you sing the whole thing together, acapella. 

And you realize that musical theater is the great gift because you're singing a number from West Side Story with someone who actually lived the gang story in LA but got out, and he knows almost all the lyrics. And he has a decent voice.
 
You don't suggest he take voice lessons with the really good voice teacher you know in LA, even though you consider it for a second.
​
And it was your best Uber ride, ever.

Comments are closed.
  • Home
  • Big Island Writers' Workshops/Galleries
    • Write Now Online
    • In-person Workshops
    • Writing Retreats
    • Writers' Portraits
    • Testimonials
  • Theatre
    • Acting Gallery
    • Directing Gallery
    • Class Gallery
  • Waking Up In Hawai'i Blog
  • Bios
    • Writing
    • Theatre
  • Calendar
  • Contact
  • New on Facebook
  • Performing The Story
  • Performing the Story Gallery