Racecar Racecar Racecar Audio Review

I’ve been sitting with grief a lot recently. I feel a bit stuck. No one really teaches us how to grieve. Just that it’s supposed to happen, that we are supposed to move through it, incorporate it, move forward. I feel frustrated that I don’t really know what grief actually feels like. Even after losing my grandma in 2024, I still don’t entirely understand the emotions other people are feeling around death.

Walking into “Apple Hunters” by E.M. Lewis, I did not anticipate I would start to move closer to the understanding I sought. I honestly didn’t know much about the show. The description really lured me into a false sense of security. I thought the show would be a “feel-good” story about some men on an apple hunt, a show I probably wouldn’t watch if it wasn’t required for the Pathways program. However, I hadn’t expected that the show would expose my discomfort with grief, and push me to reopen a feeling I had avoided after my grandmas passing.

This show has grief intricately woven into all the relationships it represents. After Paul (Andrés Alcalá) and Eddie (Phillip Ray Guevara) lose their mom, both men navigate their loss in very different ways. Paul is stuck at home, friendless and depressed, sleeping and avoiding contact with any support. In stark contrast, Eddie seems avoidant, instead focusing all his energy on pursuing a mythic apple. After much coaxing, Eddie convinces Paul to join him and his friends Don (Henry Noble) and Stan (Fiely Matias) to get out of the house and find the golden eagle apple. While searching, the men connect with people in town, all of whom are played by the same actors in a variety of minimal costume changes (aprons, hats, and scarfs). The play felt like one big game, like the characters were playing make believe and the audience got a glimpse into their childhood.

I found Stan’s character particularly interesting. His complex portrayal of a grown man navigating his relationship with parental abuse through humor really felt like it encapsulated the show. He represents this overarching desire to find joy in despair. This is especially apparent after Pauls attempted suicide half way through the show. The men all band together to support their friend, but I feel that Stan brings a level of levity to an incredibly depressing situation. Stan is a reminder that, sometimes, the only way to navigate the overwhelming feeling of loss is to laugh through the pain.

Weeks after seeing this show, I still can’t get the scene of the men sitting around the campfire out of my head. After finally finding Paul, who had left the house without saying a word weeks after his aforementioned suicide attempt, they all choose to sit around a campfire and finally express their emotions (*gasp*). Don shares that his wife has breast cancer, Stan shares that his dad got out of prison, and Paul and Eddie talk about their fears of losing each other. Something about fire and some whiskey really gets these men motivated to talk about their feelings. While the scene felt a bit cheesy to me, with lines like “rocks shatter” and “I would follow you into the woods”, the scene did feel like an earnest moment of connection that the play had been leading to. It was refreshing to see an honest and heartfelt depiction of emotion in a play featuring an entirely BIPOC men cast.

At the end of the show, they find the apple and are put in the newspaper as local celebrities who brought back this once prized fruit to their little town in Oregon. Nothing makes me feel more like a pessimist than a happy ending.  I have a hard time with “feel-good” shows. I just found this uncomplicated ending a little boring. I generally would consider myself an optimist, but when it comes to grief, I have a really hard time feeling space for joy. This ending made me realize that grief feels uncomfortable and complicated. It feels like love and despair. In seeking an understanding of my relationship to grief, I have just been left with more questions. Is love enough to hold us? How can I ask my community for help in the grieving process? Where can I find joy in my own journey?

This play reminded me how uncomfortable it feels to move forward after a major loss. I want to feel healed, and yet real grief isn’t something you heal from, just something you incorporate until it becomes manageable. It doesn’t end, just blends. At the end of the journey, you will forever be changed. Change isn’t good or bad, just different, and difference is uncomfortable and necessary.

Notes

• Show: Apple Hunters
• Characters
  • Phillip Ray Guevara
    • Eddie
  • Henry Noble
    • Don
  • Fiely Matias
    • Stan
  • Andrés Alcalá
    • Paul
• Crew
  • E.M. Lewis
    • Playwright
  • Zeina Salame
    • Director
  • Luan Schooler
    • Dramaturg
  • Alex Meyer
    • Scenic Designer
  • Rodolfo Ortega
    • Sound Designer
  • Ahmad Daniel Santos
    • Costume Designer
  • Abby Jacquin
    • Lighting Designer
  • Olivia Vavroch
    • Props Designer

Fertile Ground Review: Good Grief Dru Rutledge

I have recently been on a personal journey navigating grief. I had the luxury of growing up with very little loss in my life. However, after losing both of my grandmas in the last year, I have realized I am wholly unequipped to navigate the complexities of grief. I first used to describe this as being bad at grief, but after watching “Good Grief, Dru Rutledge” by Dru Rutledge, I discovered that there is more to my relationship with loss than I initially thought.

“Good Grief, Dru Rutledge” is a cabaret style show, where the titular performer performed alongside pianist (name) while sharing her personal relationship with the passing of her own mother after a years long struggle with multiple sclerosis (MS). This show was deeply personal, yet extremely relatable. The way Rutledge wove the narrative of her own life into classic musical theater and opera songs expertly displayed how her art has guided her through the process of discovering what grief means to her. 

I remember crying quite a lot during this show; even looking back, I see tear stains in my notes, accenting the impact it had on me. A particularly poignant moment was when Rutledge expressed challenges with sharing her grief with her community. Her performance of “I Don’t Care Much” from “Cabaret” mashed with “Favorite Things” from “Mary Poppins” pulled the audience back and forth through the turbulent emotions felt by Rutledge. The facade cracked as the energy from each song blended. 

In the end, I was left with a sense of exhaustion, having been pulled back and forth between the challenging realities of hiding your true feelings. The audience erupted into applause, and all I could do was sit there, mouth agape, tears in my eyes. I was at a loss for words. This feeling continued throughout the show, and I found myself feeling emotionally overwhelmed at the end.

This emotional upheaval was made all the more salient with the inclusion of lost loved one’s names written on stars and hung from strings around Rutledge. Seeing the names of the audience member’s loved ones made me remember that while one’s relationship with grief is personal, the experience of grief is communal. We all hold each other in the process of navigating the loss of those we love. As Rutledge says, “Bad grief takes me in instead of opening me up.” Maybe I’m not bad at grief, maybe I am just finding my good grief.

While I don’t believe in the afterlife, I do believe that one’s soul is manifested  in the stories we tell about them. One never truly dies if there are people still around to tell their stories. I believe that Rutledge conjured the spirit of her mother that day, and left the audience changed as a result. She reminded all of us that we must continue to carry on the stories of those we love and have lost, so that they may never die.

Fertile Ground Review: More Naked Than Ever

Old people fuck! That’s what I learned from Charla Hathaway’s “More Naked Than Ever.” To give myself some credit, I did know that our elders have sex. I know they want sex just as much as any other adults. However, this show introduced me to the fact that many elders and older adults are still navigating the same struggles young people face with regards to sex, relationships and desire.

Hathaway is a self proclaimed violin teacher turned “erotic muse”. Having started her sex work career at age 55, she has made a name for herself sharing the various funny and heartwarming stories from herself and her clients at the Body Joy Studio in Austin, Texas. In this piece, she describes her personal experience working with a variety of older clients, each with their own lesson coming from the end. 

Her sense of humor is infused into the entire performance. From her cock sock puppet, to the various voices and outfits of the characters (clients) she inhabits, Hathaway had the audience laughing the entire performance. The jokes and excitement she shared kept the audience engaged throughout the entire production, making me forget she was actually going over the allotted time.

While the performance was full of charm, charisma and wit, the message was clear. Each story was punctuated with a lesson, starting with “it’s never too late.” Hathaway continues to remind the audience, mostly made of elders and older adults, that it is never too late to explore your identity, get your needs met, and try new things. 

The story of her uncle left me feeling particularly moved. At 86,Hathaway’s aunt had died, leaving her husband at a trailer park alone. After his wife’s passing, the uncle began wearing dresses, earrings and makeup. While many in her family were concerned, Hathaway approached the situation with curiosity, asking the uncle about his new choices in fashion. He mentioned that he wanted to see how “the other half lives” and he didn’t go back. While he continues to identify as a man, Hathaway’s uncle still chooses to explore his gender, even into his late 80s. Hathaway mentioned he had given up on trying to appease those who had told him to fit into a particular box, and was happier for it. She reminds us that it’s never too late to explore who you are.

I loved this story. So many elders believe that gender exploration is for young people only. That at a certain point, you are too old to try something new. This sentiment leaves many elders in a position where they never truly get to explore their identity. I was happy to see that her uncle can still be fabulous, and I hope this inspires many other older adults to put on that dress and strut around their own retirement home.

In other stories, she mentions helping machismo men find intimacy, older women take charge and virgin adults learn how to explore a vulva. In all of this, I was reminded of the importance of sex work. Her work helping elders navigate the challenges and pitfalls of sexuality is social work. In practice, she is functioning as a more hands-on therapist. In performing these stories, Hathaway demystifies sex work and intimacy for elders. This piece reminds me that I should never stop working to better understand my own sexuality and body.

I will leave you with the game she offered the audience. It’s called “the kissing game”. It takes two (or more) consenting participants. First, both participants should discuss their boundaries. Say “don’t kiss my neck” or “don’t bite me” for example. A timer is a set. One person gets to be the “kisser,” the other the “kissed.” The “kisser” will kiss the “kissed” for exactly the amount of time allotted however they would like. Then they switch. They both share back how it felt to be the receiver and giver. This is meant to get participants more comfortable with being desired and showing desire. Try it at home, I know I will.

Fertile Ground Review: Saying Goodbye in Elder World

Amid healthcare rollbacks and medicaid/medicare defunding, elders are left with fewer resources than ever. As these elders are left behind, their caretakers are handed the extra burden of working within a broken system. “Saying Goodbye in Elder World”  by Darlene Zimbari is the final chapter in the Elder World Production series. In this piece, Darla (Zimbari) discusses her challenges with being a remote caretaker, the constant strain it puts on her and her family, and the way the medical system fails to support the most vulnerable in our society.

Her counterpart in this production is Ruthie (Jeanette Williams), a charismatic ghost of Darla’s mother. Ruthie was oftentimes the comedic relief in this dense show. She was blunt and crass, constantly getting a laugh out of the audience and making light of an objectively terrible situation. I remember busting out laughing when they were talking about medicaid, and Ruthie referred to Luigi Mangione as the “Italian Stallion.” Stories of her escapades evading the caretakers at her retirement home in order to sneak in her own snacks and drinks reminded me of a rebellious teenager, showing that we may never truly grow out of those habits.

Zimbari clearly held a lot of reverence for her mother, as this performance was a direct retelling of her own experience. Ruthie was often quick witted and no-nonsense, which balanced out the pragmatic and logical Darla. Darla was often the person dispensing facts about the elder healthcare system, and the experience of being a medical advocate for her mother. 

Darla mentions the differences between self-paid and medicaid funded rooms in the retirement home. How those who can’t afford their own room in the retirement home without medicaid assistance don’t get their own mini fridge, or laundry machines. How her mother had to lose agency because they couldn’t afford a car that could carry her motorized wheel chair, forcing them to use a self-propelled one. 

Darla laid out all the ways this country gives up on its elders and their caretakers. She said “when you’re most vulnerable, the ones in power won’t come to help.” She outlines how the systems are broken, and her frustrations that there seems to be no effort to fix them.

This piece is a call to action. It asks the audience to witness the challenges of elders and their caretakers, and do something about it. They end the show with an actual action plan. They ask the audience to volunteer at elder serving organizations, become a death doula, or become an ombudsman at your local retirement home. 

In the end, I had wished this show had a younger audience, nearly everyone there were elders. This definitely wasn’t helped by the fact the show was held at a retirement home. This show reminds the audience that it is important to look out for the most vulnerable, as the systems we build now will inevitably be the systems we look towards in our future. So take this as your call to action, look out for the elders in your life, so that one day people may look out for you.