I haven't watched the TONY Awards in years. Two people made me watch this year: Neil Patrick Harris and Bruce Norris. Bruce and my husband went to college together and are still good friends. We were rooting for his play, Clybourne Park to win. It did. Last year, after hearing so much buzz about NPH, we watched his opening number on YouTube, his hilarious number with Hugh Jackman, and his closing wrap up song. He's awesome. So, we were forced to watch this year. I was not disappointed by Neil or Bruce.
My attempt to watch the awards show with detachment failed. At one moment I started crying. That was my dream! The scenes and musical numbers did not deter me, in fact, I'm convinced that my singing and acting days are not behind me. I act in regional theatre, soaps, and industrials, but there's got to be more. I'm grateful to to my husband for his endless support in my endeavors and for giving me the best little son in the world (he's 4), and I wouldn't trade them for a TONY award. Yet, my tears were for the goal I haven't accomplished. I came to New York to be on Broadway. I got sidetracked, but in doing so, ultimately got a terrific family. But now that my son is going to kindergarten in the fall, and yes, a lot of my time will be consumed with fundraisers, PTA meetings, and hoe downs, I'm still an actress and there's no reason not to continue pursuing what I love doing. Actor Kathryn Joosten is an inspiring story, she started acting in her 40s.
But all is not bleak. I have an audition this Thursday for D'Jamin Bartlett's new musical and my old show, "Rendezvous: An Evening with Piaf, Brel, Aznavour and Friends" is getting a rehearsal resurrection for a possible upcoming show. So, tomorrow, I start the day with yoga, go to a vocal coaching with the wonderful Steven Silverstein, and put myself out there. What's the worse that could happen?
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