This summer, my son, Logan will play "Benny" in Seattle's 5th Avenue Theater production of Rent. The show is a new staging of this award-winning play and features an "exciting cast of young Seattle musical theater stars."
What a long and thrilling road it's been.
Now, keep in mind, this is a mother speaking . . . at 6'4", Logan is definitely tall, dark and handsome which works very well when you are, say, 20 years old; not so well, when you are, say, 9 years old.
When Logan was little, he was utterly self-composed. He wasn't shy, but, he was not interested in small talk or useless banter, either. In the spring of third grade, he wanted to try out for the local youth theater production of The Wizard of Oz. (Don't ask me. I don't know why. It's a mystery.) After the preliminary audition, Logan got a call-back. We arrived that Saturday for call-backs and found a gym full of dozens of other children and many "stage" parents (think the owners in Best in Show but parents of kids. Yikes! Terrifying.) At the end of the audition, the director said, "We will let you know by 9:00pm on Monday if you are in the show. If you do not receive a call by 9:00, thank you very much. Please try again next year."
On Monday night, Logan was pacing and pacing around the house. It took me a while to tumble to what was bothering him. Around 8:45pm, he asked me what time it was. Oh, no! I thought. "It's not 9:00 o'clock yet, Dear," I said. Now, I was angst ridden. A while later, he asked for the time again. I turned and looked at the clock. Oh, God, no! "Oh, Logan, I'm so sorry. It's 9:03."
His eyelids fell. His head dropped to his chest. His shoulders rounded and slumped. Desolation. Utter, abject despair. "Good night," he said, softly. Then, slowly he turned and trudged off to bed. Talk about rip-your-heart-out!
The next day, when I picked him up from school, he sat in the front seat, his head turned to the window. "Did you have a good day, Dear?" I asked. His head moved slowly from side to side. "Did something happen?" He put his head back on the headrest and with an anguished, heart-rending wail, he said, "My friend gets to be a monkey!" Then, between gulps of tears ~ "Can I take acting lessons?"
Thus, began the musical theater career of Logan Benedict. For the first seven or so years, he was too tall to play the kid and too young to play the hero. Mostly, he played tall things. Not quite trees, mind you, but definitely an actor looking for his place. I think his first "break" was the Gene Kelley role in Brigadoon. At the end of the first week of rehearsals, he came home in a funk. "I stink. They don't think I can sing." Oh, I thought, thank God, we live in the suburbs. "Don't worry, Dear." I got out the yellow pages (what can I say, it was preInternet.) and called every single voice teacher listed in the Seattle area. My voicemail went something like this: "Hi, this is Heidi Benedict, my son needs to start voice lessons tomorrow morning, say, 10:00? Please call me back if you are available."
Gawd, it's times like this when I love the suburbs. Of course, I got a call back. Of course, Logan started voice lessons at 10:00 that Saturday morning. And, while the rest isn't quite history, it was forward momentum.
Then, my husband died the week before Logan was to start high school. Shattering. Painful. Heartbreaking. Three weeks later, Logan was on stage starring in another youth theater production. He was so brave and luminous. We all sat in the audience weeping through the whole show.
High school was difficult. Logan was grieving and I was urging him to keep his grades up. Yes, he continued to get the leads in the local youth theater productions, but, a lot of the spark had gone out. His clown spirit was broken.
In the middle of his Junior year, I sat down with him and said, "I don't want to be the mother who is constantly on you about school. I think it's affecting our relationship. So, I'll leave your studies to you. You can take care of this yourself."
When Logan puts an plan into action, he is relentless. Obstacles know better than to stand in his way. Even now looking back, it's clear, he worked. And, how! Between rowing practice every day after school, studying for his school classes and participating in the school's elite music group, I hardly saw him.
That fall, when he sent out his college applications, he was accepted at his first choice ~ The Boston Conservatory. The perfect place for this young man to shine. And, he did.
From regional theater to regional theater, he's come up through the ranks. Playing Smudge in Forever Plaid in Boston to Harold Hill in The Music Man, to Gaston in Beauty and the Beast in Seattle, to working at Disney World to Lancelot in Camelot to Frank Butler in Annie Get Your Gun in Portland to Rapunzel's Prince at Seattle's 5th Avenue in Into the Woods and,
now, in Seattle at the 5th Avenue Theater ~ Benny in Rent!
Starting this summer on July 21st,
I, of course, will be sitting in the audience ~
with my box of Kleenex.
I'll keep you posted.
Day 2 Everyday Grateful ~ for my lovely son.
Last week, a friend of mine sent a link to an article in the NY Times (see below). The two things I loved most about the article were summed up in two phrases:
