The Braid is Producing My Story

Based on the true story of when I couldn’t sing a song about Jesus out loud during a school performance

You read that title correctly, yes you did.

The Braid is producing my story.

The Braid is an award winning live theatre that presents the diverse voices of Jewish people in performances that touch our hearts.

I submitted a short story, “Hawaiian Songbird,” for their consideration. It describes an incident that happened when I was an eleven-year-old newcomer to Hawaii’s famous Punahou School.

“Hawaiian Songbird” was accepted to be the opening segment of their May production, The Rest is History. Nine other wonderful, funny, poignant stories will complete the program.

The show focuses on moments that altered the course of our lives, proving that, unique as they are, these stories are universal in their appeal.

No matter your age or background, you’ll be moved by the life-changing moments described by the writers. You’ll be entertained by the sensitive interpretations of the actors.

And you’ll want to come back for more.

Nope, I haven’t yet scraped myself out of the clouds. Dancing on rainbows at the moment.

The Braid is located in Santa Monica, California. Via Zoom it can be in your home.

Here is the flyer with all the information you need to be able to see the upcoming show, The Rest is History.

 Flyer image courtesy of The Braid Theatre 2021

A Voice in the Woods

Forest in Gmina Jedwabno, Poland by Albert Jankowski [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

A forest in Communist Eastern Poland, 1949

1.     Stop and listen. I have a hard head but my heart is soft and warm. If only you would stay and listen to me. You people, always walking past so quickly and never looking down to see the tiny things of beauty. Someday someone will stop and listen to me. And do I have a story to tell. No, I am not empty headed at all. Take a deep breath. You will need it, because you will suck in and gasp and laugh and be angry but you will not breathe again until this story is complete.

I know about love. Once pressed so close to a heart that it beat for me as well, I was crushed at my waist and bent against the breast of the one who loved me and rocked me to sleep. Of course I am always suspended in that state between sleep and life, but she would sleep, and I would lie in her arms and sing to her, my hair matted into hers. They say I can’t feel pain, but what do they know? I can feel love. Warm and strong, I was pillowed by love, and that love kept me safe. I thought forever, but forever is here. Buried deep, tree roots tangling round.