Hello, Hello, Guess Who Has Vertigo!

As some of you know, Seasons had the honor of playing the pre-show, intermission and post-show music for Openstage Theatre's production of "A Christmas Carol." Openstage used the Sunoco Performing Arts Center for the play, and asked us if we could set up in one of the side boxes in the balcony (which would be the box on the highest tier of seating in the above picture). Sadly, Teresa and I did not get to wear phantom of the Opera Masks as we played.

Ever since singing in the children's choir in our church and having to stand practically flush again the rail of the choir loft because I was so short, I have had an odd relationship with heights.

Due to my overactive imagination, the first thing I usually do upon reaching a great height is to wonder what it would be like to fall from it. After I have mulled over how it would feel to fall through the air, how many bones I would break and what gigs and family commitments I would be forced miss during recovery (and of course who would visit me in the hospital), I then imagine what it would be like for various objects to fall from the height, be it a choir hymnal, a bracelet, or the second grader singing next to me.

In this case, I was picturing accidentally brushing against the harp and the dulcimer and sending them gracefully sailing through the air (kind of like operation dumbo drop). Except none of our instruments has a built in parachute, and would end up squashing the unsuspecting play patrons (which of course led to more imagining).

Despise thinking about such things while I am high up, heights don't paralyze me with fear. No, it is more like the sensation of having an itch--unpleasant, yes, but bearable, also yes. If anything, fear of heights provides more of an adrenaline rush for me as opposed to a crushing blow.

When Grace started playing the dulcimer in the upper balcony though, and started looking whiter than Jacob Marley by the second song, I knew we were in for trouble.

"I, just feel really dizzy, and, uh, I have to sit down," Sweating and shaking, Grace retreated from the dulcimer to sit with her head between her knees on the stairs. It was like we had hit her with a dose of kyrptonite.

Like a good sister I said to Grace, "Come on, it's not that bad, pull yourself together!"

Grace refused though (probably because she was barely conscious) which left me in the position of playing hammered dulcimer while Teresa manned the harp. Since Peter and Grace play dulcimer rather well, I have in response become rather remiss in practicing the dulcimer myself, especially because I know that most shows I will end up playing harp anyhow.

While playing with Teresa, I started just playing the melody on songs, but then of course if it was going well I would get cocky and start improvising until I hit some combination of notes that sounded suspiciously like a mistake, which would send me scurrying back to simple melody.

After this shocking discovery of Grace's superhero weakness, Teresa and I realized we had no choice but to play in the balcony ourselves, with Grace playing with us in the lobby after the show. Due to all the lugging of instruments up and down the stairs of the Sunoco Performing Arts Center during Act II, I ended up seeing Act I of "A Christmas Carol" three times, and while Scrooge celebrated his redemption I could be found in the lobby playing a serious game of Scrabble with Clare, our most excellent CD seller.

Despite my somewhat "avant garde" dulcimer playing at times (you all know my inclination towards musical experimentation) Don Alsedek, the director of Openstage gamely introduced us before every show (following which people would look around with this surprised "oh, where are the musicians?" look, and I would wave frantically from our position in the rafters). People actually bought CDs, too, which means that my dulcimer playing must not have been to weird (though Grace's playing at the end of the show as people exited surely helped).

This experience has taught me that one never knows what phobias are lurking right beneath the surface of a person that are just waiting to leap out. Perhaps during some upcoming gig unforeseen events will transform my aversion to cottage cheese into a phobia, and I too will be unable to play...only time will tell.