An under- reported form of stage fright

SHERWOOD KIRALY

Last Saturday the Lagunatunes, our town’s own chorus, performed a

concert at the high school entitled “Those Dreaded Holiday Letters,”

a musicale interspersed with special material delivered by four

actors, each portraying a Christmas newsletter writer.

It was an ambitious blend of comedy and carols, mixing readings

and choral numbers, and twice during the program, a member of the

chorus stepped downstage to deliver a solo.

One of these soloists was Lisa Morrice, whose spectacular soprano

has been prominently featured in many local shows, and the other was

a relation of mine by marriage.

Patti Jo used to solo every Sunday in her church, but hasn’t done

so in some years. Her task on Saturday night was to sing “Some

Children See Him,” a piece about the way Jesus is pictured by

different peoples.

Now, a solo is like kicking a field goal -- you have to hit it in

one try.

And in early rehearsals Patti Jo felt she wasn’t hitting it. I’ve

heard her sing, of course, and I told her she’d be fine, but her long

solo hiatus had undermined her confidence. She went through

rehearsals bravely but always came home with a small gray cloud over

her head.

On the night, the chorus and the actors were excellent. Lola

Gillabaard, Nathan Greene, Christian Marriner and Margo Upham played

the four holiday correspondents with warmth and wit under Steve

Josephson’s direction; co-director and pianist Roxanna Ward deftly

accompanied the readings as well as the chorus, which was led by

Christin Cornell. (Pat Kollenda took over for one choral number, “The

Twelve Days After Christmas,” which has now replaced Walt Kelly’s

“Deck Us All with Boston Charlie” as my favorite carol spinoff.)

And there came a moment when Patti Jo walked into the single

spotlight downstage center and smiled at the house, and Roxanna

played the introductory chords to her song. Whereupon there was a

momentary pause.

It was during this pause that paralyzing stage fright struck, not

Patti Jo, but me. I was suddenly sure her first note wasn’t going to

come out. For the benefit of nonsingers I’ll explain that such a

blockage is serious; if the first note doesn’t come out, the other

notes just bunch up in the back of your throat till everyone goes

home.

Stage fright has often been discussed from the point of view of

the performer, but as far I know no one has examined the fear

experienced by family members waiting for a loved one to sing the

first note, dance the first step, say the first line, or juggle the

first three oranges. Hitchcock couldn’t touch it for suspense.

As it turned out, and as another chorus member told her afterward,

Patti Jo nailed her song -- and so did Lisa Morrice, singing “O Holy

Night” later in the show. You may suspect me of logrolling, so I’ll

refer you to the rest of the audience. They hollered louder than I

did; I get self-conscious.

So the show was a hit, the audience left happy, Patti Jo and the

gang went off to Cedar Creek to celebrate and I went home to take my

beta blocker pill.

Your heart can only stop for so long.