Be the Hero!

Apr 15
5 min read

As you may remember, KVTA has decided to make this season of shows horribly emotional for me. And Big Fish is really the icing on the cake. I hope that I am not pulling the curtain back too far, but this show marks the first time that I've been at a rehearsal where the cast could not perform because they were all crying!

KVTA's production of Big Fish, directed by Sharla Ronchetto, completes the '25-26' fatherhood trilogy started with My Son Pinocchio and continued in Christmas Schooner. I again apologize for being unable to share my original thoughts about Christmas Schooner, but those who saw it know exactly how fatherhood shaped that story. In the finale to both the trilogy and KVTA's 25'/26' season, Edward Bloom's life is recounted through the implausible stories that he tells his son, Will. However, Will is afraid that he will never know the real man behind the larger-than-life caricature. Is there truth to the stories of his life, or is he trying to hide something?

I think, to some extent, every father enjoys telling stories about their life. They may not be as fantastical as the stories that Edward Bloom tells, but they all have some element of exaggeration. This may not even be intentional. It may be a function of our memories failing us as we get older and our brains replacing the mundane details we can't remember with something that keeps our attention! Or maybe we just like to impress people. I don't know, I'm not a...guy who does...brain...stuff!

I can remember a number of stories that my father told me when I was growing up. Similar to Edward, he was an outgoing man who lived to be the life of the party. He also lived his life on the road and met lots of interesting characters. I remember each version of each story too. When I was younger, I remember being enamored of his story of falling off the second story roof and breaking all of his bones. He so vividly described being in traction for months, missing school, and coming back so much stronger. Years later, we found a newspaper clipping he saved with a picture of my ten year old father in traction in the Akron hospital. He was telling the truth! Well, at least a version of the truth. He fell off a ladder when he tried to hang a basketball hoop on the garage. He broke his leg and was in traction for a few weeks. And in reality, he wasn't stronger after that. For the rest of his life, his left leg was 3/4" shorter than the right. This accident created enough physical problems that he wasn't approved for the draft during the Vietnam War. Nonetheless, even through the fantasy and hyperbole, my real father was hiding somewhere in that story.

I also remember the stories he told about his adventures with his little brother, David. They were both scouts, went to summer camp, went through high school together, but then didn't see each other much after my dad moved away from Ohio once he graduated. It sounded to me like a similar childhood that I had with my sisters. Then, one day, just a normal day, I came home from school. I came in through the garage door like I usually did and there, in the kitchen, sat my father. He would occasionally sit in the kitchen, but it was infrequently enough that it made me pause. My father looked up at me and I couldn't see anything but the tears streaming from his eyes. My dad was crying! My dad! I had never seen that before. Choking back the tears, he told me that David had died at 40 years old from a heart attack, at a young age just like his mother and father had. I had never met David. Up to that point in my life, I had never been to Ohio and his family had never visited us. He was just a character in my dad's stories. My dad took hours that day and showed me pictures, told me stories, some old, some new, even talked more about his sisters, father, and mother. Now Uncle David was real and not just part of the story. The larger than life image I had of my father was gone as I learned he was just like me! He loved the special people in his life so much that his life stopped for them when they were gone. Again, my father and the people in his life were there in his stories, waiting to be discovered.

I've now had three blog posts to use as exercises in considering fatherhood. One was about my memories of my father, the second made me spend a lot of time thinking about the loss of my father, and the third is now about his legacy. I appreciate that this has been an incredibly cathartic experience for me. For a unfortunately long part of my life, my dad was just a guy who I would talk to occasionally. We had our silly inside jokes. We both liked to barbecue. But generally we didn't have much in common, so our time together was limited to holidays or when I stopped to see someone else in the house. I loved my dad, but that's how we existed for many years. Even after he died, that's how our relationship was. Theater has been such an amazing gift to me. Every show I'm a part of or experience gives me insight into another part of my life. I hope this is true for you too. This season of productions has shown me the truth about my father. I have said before that my dad was most likely not the best dad, but he was my dad. Edward Bloom is my dad. And in some way, he is probably your dad too. And because of his stories, I'll be able to remember him better than he ever could have imagined.

My best hope is that some of the stories that I tell can hold the attention of my children, their children, and their children. And make me bigger than I could ever be in life but still keep me alive in the hearts of the people that I care about. Maybe they'll remember my tale of sneaking into the maze-like steam tunnels below the University of Illinois campus and our encounter with the mole people! Or our trip to Mountain Rushmore (sic) and the adventure with the prairie dogs at Devil's Tower. Or even the terrifying storm during our camping trip that threatened to wash us all into Lake Michigan. Of course, these stories can't all be completely true, but where does the fantastic end and the real Dana begin? Come experience Big Fish and you can be the hero of your own story. Join us at LCC on April 24, 25, and 26. Thanks to KVTA for another great season! Edward and company say it best: "Be the hero, and the world will soon be yours!"