*</p>
<p>It was hot backstage, and we all were a little sweaty. Actors were busy with heavy period costumes and stage make-up, several spraying gray into their hair to make themselves look older than the students they were. The sounds and smells of preparation tinged the air and added to the excitement of the evening. The young woman playing Petra, daughter of Dr. and Mrs. Stockman in Ibsens An Enemy of the People, came to me, Already in her long brown dress, she was holding a sizable pillow and some safety pins. She held out the pillow - a lumpy mass with a flowered pillowcase - for me to take. “Quick,” she said, with a conspiratorial grin, “help me pin this under my skirt.” I didn’t at first realize what she wanted me to do…</p>
<p>It was the final dress rehearsal before opening night and the cast had the play down pat. The first full dress had gone so well that a series of pranks and minor line changes had been planned as practical jokes on the director.</p>
<p>Even though I was enlisted as a stagehand, this was also my first acting gig. I was an extra in the crowd scene, the one who throws a stone shattering a glass window pane. How had I been convinced to go onto the stage? I thought every eye would focus on my moment, the rock would miss its mark, and reviewers would surely point out that the play would have been a great success “except for one crowd member who singlehandedly sabotaged the night.”</p>
<p>I watched from just off-stage as Petra, wrapped in a cloak and hat and holding a bundle of books, awaited her initial entrance in Act I. On cue, she walked onto the set as her father said the line, “Good evening, Petra. Come along.”</p>
<p>Petra leaned over to settle her books onto a chair. She stood up, placed her hat on a rack, and began to remove her cloak abd recite her lines. “And you have all been sitting here enjoying yourselves,” she said, “while I have been out being very busy.” The cloak dropped to the floor, revealing a very “pregnant” Petra!</p>
<p>The director’s face froze into place, but no one could continue with the play. Laughter overtook us all, cast and crew. And at that moment, all of my nervousness melted away and was replaced by a sheer sense of fun. In a later scene, throwing the rock through the window went perfectly, just an extension of the joy of the evening. Being on stage wasnt so bad after all.</p>
<p>I went on to bigger and better roles, each helping reinforce the fact that I was most at home in the theater, but the feeling was fed by the camaraderie of the people who all work together to get from a first reading to opening night.</p>
<p>That dress rehearsal was the igniting of a passion that grew, flame-like, starting with that lumpy pillow in the flower print pillowcase.*