Skip blithely over 50 years, and I'm back at the O'Neill Theater Center, this time picking up tablecloths for the literature and food tables for last Sunday's Performing Arts InterSECT, the showcase of local performing arts groups I was helping to run for the Southeastern Connecticut Cultural Coalition. I returned the tablecloths (after laundering them, of course) the other day, where I found eager interns who stopped running the copy machine to retrieve the heavy boxes of linens from my car (age has some privileges. . .). Proud to say that I restrained myself from telling them the story I just forced upon you, dear LJ readers. Ah well, still the handmaid (or laundrymaid) of the arts.
Last night I volunteered at the Norwich Arts Center, of which I was the founding president 30 years ago. In addition to selling tickets and giving out programs for the play Naked Mole Rats in the World of Darkness (don't ask), to which I had no other connection, I gave the toilets a swipe, emptied some disgusting wastebaskets, and wiped down tables. In 2003, I had my CD release party in that same venue, and had to swamp out the same bathrooms because one of the same toilets had overflowed. At that point, I asked myself--and everyone within earshot--"How many other recording artists and record producers had to clean the toilets at their own CD launches?"
What, and leave show business?