As a history teacher, I have always
been fascinated by seminal moments in history, those indelible
moments that remain with you long after they occurred. For my
parents, their first such moment was the bombing of Pearl Harbor on
December 7, 1941. Over two decades later, a new generation
experienced that same searing feeling with the assassination of
President John F. Kennedy on November 22, 1963. Having been born in
1968, I cannot recall any such events that stood out in the 70s, 80s,
or 90s with such fierce prominence, but I can recall as if it were
yesterday where I was that Tuesday morning of September 11, 2001.
While teaching World History in room 101 at Catholic High in New
Iberia, a fellow teacher, Mrs. Karen Ladmirault, rushed into my room
to inform me that a plane had struck one of the Twin Towers. We
promptly turned on the Channel One TV to catch those stark images of
endless smoke and then watched with startling clarity what gravity
can do, and for one brief moment, we wished it could not. Our nation
had been wounded just as it had been in 1941 and 1963, and those
wounds have become part of the American psyche.
That psyche was exposed tonight in a
play called The Guys by Anne
Nelson. Tammy Lamonte has directed a powerful, short play at the
Delta Grand Theatre in Opelousas in honor on the approaching tenth
anniversary of the horrific event which scarred the nation but
ultimately stitched together its composite character. The
Guys will perform Friday and
Saturday night at 7:00 pm and Sunday at 3:00 pm, and tickets are
$10.00. The play focuses on Nick, a veteran firefighter who has to
deliver several eulogies to his fallen comrades, but as he is not a
writer, he calls upon Joan, an editor, to help him craft these
delicate deliveries. Completely aware of his inability to summarize
these men's lives, he finds himself lost, but Joan simply asks him to
talk about his firefighters, and from his loving observations and
touching stories, Joan molds the words which he will eventually
speak.
Even though the
play technically has only two “live” characters on stage, the
strength of the play comes from the picture the audience receives of
the firefighters Nick is eulogizing. Dave, Patrick, Barney, Jimmy and
Bill are rich characters that we get to know, from the church
picnics, to the welded benches, to the orange cones. You leave the
theatre knowing these men, or someone just like them. Perhaps the
saddest part to see and hear was watching Nick struggle with the fact
that he knew so little about one of the firefighters, Jimmy, who had
only worked with Nick for two weeks. The fire from the Towers was
actually Jimmy's first fire, something he'd trained for and which
turned out to be his one and only. It is all the more amazing, and a
tribute to Anne Nelson, that Joan was able to forge such a vivid
picture of a life cut so brutally short. It's a poignant reminder of
so many lives that were cut short that day.
This production
has two talented leads in Cody Daigle as Nick and Jody Powell as
Joan. As the humbled firefighter left alive by the mere chance of who
took the morning shift, Daigle manages to bring pathos to Nick
without drowning him in maudlin. Having visited New York City six
times in the last two years, I could easily picture Daigle blending
in perfectly with that accent and the awkwardness at being a hero, or
worse, being a survivor. Jody has the harder role in some ways,
having to represent all the rest of America and how they felt about
this tragic day. Her opening monologue seemed a little rushed and
could benefit from some judicious pauses, but once she met Nick and
started to help him, she displayed how beautifully they were actually
helping each other deal with the unspeakable. Both leads were
assisted by several actual firefighters who have volunteered to play
the eulogized men, and there will be different firefighters each
night. They have no lines, but they are as much a part of the play as
the leads, though the humor from the bra tended to be a little
overplayed.
But
no matter. This is a soul-searching play that needs to be performed
and seen. As I sat in the Delta Grand, I turned to see a large
poster of the Twin Towers hanging on the wall and I was vividly
returned to December 1987 when I first visited the Big Apple as a
19-year old college student. Though I don't remember the exact day, I
stood on the roof of one of those towers, marveling at the
breathtaking view in the late evening, freezing my bones off but
loving every chilling, thrilling moment. I am proud of having been
able to stand there, and I will forever cherish that memory, but what
I would give to turn back time's incessant clock to be able to stand
on that rooftop again.
---Vincent P. Barras
