I found myself looking back with great affection to the time that the acting bug first hit. In 1966-67, a program called "The Workshop" that the NYC Department of Parks offered.  Thousands of youth auditioned, and I was one of 25 that were accepted.  Attached is an article and below an excerpt from the NYC archives: 

"The Workshop, under the direction of Gordon Duffey of the Parks Department will present two full length plays this season. The plays produced will be one musical play and two short operas for children. One play is an original musical   Asterisk on the Moon! (book and lyrics by Gordon Duffey, music by Edward Mannato). This play will be for younger children. There will also be performances of two short operas for older children,. "He Who Says Yes" and "He Who Says No" (librettos by Bertholt Brecht, music by Kurt Weill). In addition, weekly sessions in creative drama, jazz forms and movement, singing and acrobatics for the stage will be held for all children who register for the Workshop. Registration for participation in the Gimbels-Parks Department Theater Workshop will take place in Gimbels 6th Floor  Any school child in New York (from grades 1 through 12) may register for the Workshop and audition for one of the two productions." 

Yes, rehearsal was on the 6th floor of the Gimbels Department store.  My parents did not want me to go, but I made it work--I had to pay for the subway and bus fare. I want to think that their resistance was because rehearsals were on Shabbes, but I am confident that their wish for me to be a doctor was more substantial than their desire to make me Shabbat observant.  In 1966  I was 15 and in my last year of high school.  Most students would have been 17 or 18, so perhaps that was also part of the equation.  Anyway, that is why I support every artistic endeavor that my three sons pursue.  Even when I was on Broadway, to my parents, I was a failure.  It's taken years to wipe that from my memory or at least to deal with it positively.  

Anyway, getting into the NYC Theater Workshop was a fantastic achievement that filled me with pride.   We did Bertholt Brecht's "He Who Says Yes" in the style of Japanese Noh Theater.  I will never forget how we centered our bodies, crouched almost in a sitting position, and moved our legs in a stylized way. I had played Petruchio in Kiss Me Kate in high school, but this was in walking distance with Broadway, just about 20 blocks away--in the big city!   

I started Queens College in 1968 and was hugely disappointed that I was not allowed to even apply for anywhere else (where I could get away from the rents).  Tuition was free, and I lived at home and majored in drama. I got to work with Stacy Keach (who was with La Mama at that time) and director Gene Frankel (director Tony award-winning "Indians"). When I got a part in an off-broadway show, forced to decide-- school or working actor, I left school. The show was called "Heat" and workshopped at the Public Playhouse where "Hair" originated. I got my first review in a show called "Contributions," where the reviewer panned the show but loved the actor who moved the scenery with flair (me).  
In 1969 I was accepted to the  Lake Placid Playhouse Summerstock company, where I played in many shows, including a "Funny Thing Happened on My Way to the Forum" and "Showboat."  The most impressive memory of that summer was watching the moon landing. What a huge step for humankind! Mind-blowing to a kid who watched a NASA representative tell us all about the project at a school assembly in 1964!

For me this year, preparing for Pesach, Passover, is not only about cleaning. It’s also about putting together the finishing touches for the Cantors Assembly "A True Feast of Freedom" Haggadah. Based on the experiences of a Cantors Assembly trip to Uganda to support the Abayudaya and celebrate the community’s 100 years of existence, it tells the story of Idi Amin's overthrow on the 14th of Nisan, the very day that Pesach begins. After eight years of terror and living underground as Jews, the Pesach of 1979 was spent in the open, a true celebration of freedom from the despotic Pharoah, Idi Amin. 

Our trip was in 2019, and it has been a two-year journey to finishing this project, including spoken word and music. Every time I edit the piece, I think of something I might have left out or could improve. Sometimes you just have to let it go! (Now I hear my beautiful grandchildren singing in my head! Thank you, “Frozen.”) 

Still, I worry there will not be matzah or wine at the seder table of the Abayudaya this year. Usually, they are provided by travelers who visit the area, but that is not the case in this pandemic. Flash—just got a message from Gershom that they procured what they need! I also recently heard from one of the Abayudaya’s Stern Synagogue prayer leaders, whom I teach, that he is ill and cannot get the medical care he needs. A COVID test costs 250,000 UGX, which is about $70 USD. The average salary of a Ugandan worker is $17,000 a year, which prices the COVID test at a little over 20 percent of a weekly salary! 

(I keep thinking—what if they had a manufacturing business that made a finished product that could be sold to the world market? It’s done with great success in other developing countries.) 

This Pesach, let us be grateful for the things we have. There is a quote from the Abayudaya’s Rabbi Gershom in our Haggadah that “food is not obvious even on this holiday.” He suggests we put aside food, give to pantries, and understand the process of farm to table. We are encouraged to plant bitter herbs for next year's seder to catch a small glimpse of what it takes to live in an agricultural society. And can you pass a 40-pound jug of water around the table? Imagine what young children and their mothers are asked to carry every day from the borehole well to the table. 

This year, think of what you can give. Not just money (although that’s always helpful), but more importantly, time—the time to take action that will help bring future success to this spiritually thriving but financially struggling Jewish community and others like it that, despite their living circumstances, continue to live Jewish lives. I can't wait for you to hear the music and read our Ugandan brothers and sisters' words.

I am thinking today about when I went to the hospital to get my tonsils out at the age of four, and it seems like the next memory that I had was waking up on my first day of school at PS 133. I can clearly see the gates of the school and feeling my mother’s hand holding mine. She was a kindergarten teacher in NYC, and the very first time I played guitar in public was in her classroom over the summer. She was one of the earliest teachers to participate in the Head Start program in 1965, and she insisted that I come to her classroom to play for the children. Children of all races and economic status. Two things resulted from those trips—a love of teaching and the practice of giving back to the community. My mom worked in that Head Start classroom after an entire year of teaching. There was no money (or very, very little), just the satisfaction of helping kids who needed a “head-start.” In high school, she encouraged me to take my folk music group to play for the patients at Creedmoor Psychiatric Hospital in Queens. Once again, her encouragement led to a love of working with neuro-diverse individuals. I remember very clearly the sights and sounds of that visit, and while a little scary for a young person, I was not discouraged.  It was, in fact, the catalyst for the passion I feel today about advocating for those in need or who do not have a voice.   Thanks, mom—you passed away 43 years ago this summer, but you are still alive in the work that I do. And your grandchildren have taken up the torch!!