On Anxiety, Angel(a)s and the Magical, Mystical Healing Power of Community Theater

This morning I was driving my mom on an errand and she asked me, "Escuchaste mi mensaje que te deje el viernes?" I replied to her, "No, amá, no lo he escuchado por que ni cuenta me di que me dejo un mensaje," letting her know that I had not listened to the message because I was unaware she had left me one. But she wasn't going to let it go. She explained to me that she was watching a local Los Angeles station (she wanted me to know it wasn't a cable channel because no one has taught her how to use the cable remote control in her living room) and a man who owns a theater in DTLA was celebrating World Theater Day. She called me to congratulate me because in some part of my mom's beautiful and smart brain, she is convinced that I'm an actor. 

In the interest of full transparency, I am not an actor. I will likely reiterate this point several times throughout this blog post, but I really need to get this out in the beginning so it may help you understand what happened to me on Saturday, March 14th. 

Our children had just gotten word the day before that the school year had come to a halt while our nation's leader tried to figure out the COVID-19 pandemict. Since Saturday mornings were already reserved for the youth acting classes at CASA 0101 theater, we decided to take the littles to class so we could discuss concerns and the future of the classes with the rest of the parents. The adults stood around in a circle while the youth went to begin their rehearsal in the big theater. We collectively made the decision to keep bringing our children to classes until it wasn't safe to do so, and continued our discussion by talking about our fears, anxieties, and hopes. I really think a lot of us needed this; we listened as each parent took a turn talking about the measures they were already taking to keep their families safe and take tips from each other. We needed each other in that moment and in that space to stave off anxiety and it was the most beautiful talking circle I had been part of in a long time. 

Parents from the Saturday morning theater class at CASA 0101 Theater,
along with our facilitator, Maria G. Martinez. 

Talking circle for parents to provide support for each other.
Each parent had the opportunity for their voice to be heard in this circle. 

The time came for our break and I walked over to the counter of the theater as Maria was listening to her voicemail message. I watched her face go from confused to more confused, and when she put her phone down, I asked her if she was ok. She said, "One of my actors backed out the Metcalf because of the scare." I understood her look of concern, because the big day of her staged reading of her full-length play had arrived and she was short one actor. 

Now, I am a solution-driven person. I know that when you ask someone what they are going to do in a situation like this, the first solution they throw out is going to be the most viable one. I said to Maria, "Ok, well, now you know. What are you going to do about this?" In that moment I wished it was anyone other than me who asked her that question. She replied, "Well, do you think you can do the reading?" And with that, friends, I signed myself up to be a character in a staged reading of a script I had never laid eyes on...it gets better from here!

Maria handed me a script right after class and I panicked when I saw how thick it was. I asked her which character I was assigned, and she said, "Tia Sol, you're going to be replacing Tia Sol." I grabbed my highlighter I always carry in my bag and began looking through the first few pages for Tia Sol's lines. I was so excited to see that Tia Sol wasn't even listed in the first few pages. I don't know when the shift in realization occurred, but a light bulb went off in my head when I saw the name SOLEDAD written on one of the pages. 

Sol is short for Tia Sol. It was this precise moment I lost my mind while driving to Teatro Frida Kahlo for rehearsals. Each time I scraped my highlighter across SOLEDAD, page after page, added to the uncertainty and anxiety that was building up. 

Why did I agree to do this? 

Who do I have to warn that I'm a fraud? 

Am I going to let down Maria? 

How badly will it hurt if I just jump out of the car?

What should I eat to suddenly get food poisoning?

We arrived to the theater and my legs were wobbly. There were other actors already there going through lines in the dressing room. I wanted to cry...and throw up...and run away. I saw a familiar face in Angela Estela Moore. She took one look at me and said, "I knew you were going to be here! I had a feeling you would be the one to stand in after I read your Facebook post that you were on your way to CASA this morning." We couldn't hug each other because of the social distancing rules, but we elbow bumped and she told me to go ahead and go to the dressing room to get ready.  

Get ready for what? I'm not an actor. Remember I stated that up above, well not only am I not an actor, but now I was in a position where I had to act like an actor and I had to convince the rest of the actors that I wasn't there to let them down. 

I met the rest of the cast (Maricella Ibarra, Angela Estela Moore, Aracely Barreno, Josh Duron, Estefania Bautista, Nathanael Martinez, and Director Minerva Garcia Ortega--no relation to me) and we went right to work on the stage running through our lines. I had no idea what to expect, because the last time I was part of a staged reading was when I read stage direction while sitting in a dark corner of the Curtis Theater stage. We ran lines, movement, and emotions for three hours. The director, Minerva, would say to me, "Ok, so this line you are feeling ______," and I would respond with, "Thank you. So what does that sound like?" That should have been the first hint for everyone that I really had no idea what I was doing. 

When we finished going through the entire script, we took a break to eat before the live audience arrived. When Minerva sat down next to me with her lunch, I swiftly apologized to her for any mishaps and said to her, "I just really want to be transparent here and let you know that I am not an actor. I have never done this before and I will do my best to capture the emotions on the stage and honor Maria's writing." She gave me this look that gave me the impression she didn't believe me. She followed with, "I had no idea, but you have a great stage presence." I smiled for the first time in 4 hours haha. 

The next thing I know I'm in the fitting room putting on lipstick and taking my hair out of the bun. Then it began--that feeling that my world around me was going to come crashing down. You know that feeling, don't you? Like when you're about to jump off the high dive and you're afraid of heights. Or like when you're about to take your driving test and you still haven't mastered merging lanes on the highway. Or wait, wait, here's a better one--like that feeling when you're about to go onstage with seasoned actors and everyone in the audience is going to think YOU'RE A FRAUD! 

That final thought took over all rational thoughts in my brain. I had hit the point of no return and when I looked over at Angela, I blurted out, "I can't do this. I am not going to do this." Have you ever seen an earth angel? Without skipping a beat, Angela told the rest of the actors to circle up and asked us to close our eyes: she began to guide us through a meditation that took us through the practice of seeking the energy underneath our feet and the power of the sun above our head. She asked us to call on our ancestors for their strength and reminded us that we were exactly where we were called to be. Every single doubt, feeling of imposter syndrome, and ounce of anxiety washed away as I slowly opened my eyes to see that I was still in the circle in the dressing room of Teatro Frida Kahlo. 

What happened next was one of the greatest experiences of my adult life. I lifted SOLEDAD's voice off the page. I stood when it was time to stand, walked to hit my non-existent floor markers, and sang when it was time for me to sing. And I didn't die on that stage. I did quite the opposite...I FELT ALIVE! I felt healed from my fear and my anxiety and remain grateful for the opportunity I was given to act like an actor, even if it was for just that afternoon on March 14th. 

There is a list of people to thank for that most wonderful day, but the one I owe the most gratitude to is Angela. I don't know how she did it, or how she just knew that without her intervention, the show would not go on. Thank you, my friend, for being there when I needed you most. I promise to return the favor, tenfold!

Life is good. Find yourself an Angel(a), or become one for someone who needs one. 

Angela Estela Moore, Josh Duran, and Aracely Barreno. PC Manuel Santiago

The magical director, Minerva Garcia Ortega. PC Manuel Santiago

Maricella Ibarra, Josh Duran, and yours truly. PC Manuel Santiago

Aracely Barreno and Estefania Bautista. PC Manuel Santiago

Me, acting like an actor. PC Manuel Santiago

Nathanael Martinez, Aracely Barreno, Maricella Ibarra (kneeling), Maria G. Martinez (writer), Minerva Garcia Ortega (director), Lorena M. Ortega, and Angela Estela Moore. (missing, Estefania Bautista)
PC Emmanuel Deleage

On Pan Dulce, Puerquitos, and the Shape of My Daddy's Eyes

When you look at the title of the blog post it may leave you wondering how any of these things are connected or related to each other. Well, puerquitos are a type of pan dulce, so that's how those two are related...but the shape of my daddy's eyes, well, that will come later.

A few weeks ago it was tech weekend at CASA 0101. It was the final weekend before our plays hit the stage and we ran through all technical aspects until they were perfect. There is a lot of shouting, a ton of revising, and enough food to feed a group of hungry actors and writers. I had signed up to be in charge of pan dulce for Sunday morning because I didn't want to cook or worry about cleaning up. I thought it was the smartest thing to sign up for, until I realized I didn't know the area and had no idea where to buy pan dulce in Boyle Heights.

After getting tips and directions from our EP, Claudia Elizabeth Duran, I made my way to La Favorita Panaderia to get everything I needed. One of our actors, Lorena Rubio, was outside and asked if she could go with me to pass the time before rehearsals. I am so glad that she went because I can't parallel park my car if my life depended on it. It was so embarrassing to even attempt it, so the third time I failed she offered to jump in and do it for me haha #shestherealMVP.

When we arrived to the front door, a kind older señor held the door open for us. He was wearing a navy puffer vest with a blue and white checkered button-down shirt underneath. His outfit stuck out to me because this was part of my daddy's uniform when leaving the house. I could tell that this man was familiar with the women who worked in the bakery because he began greeting them by first name. It was nice to watch the women's smiles begin to form as they responded to him with "buenos dias" and "que bonito verlo por aca."

My Daddy in all the iterations of his blue and white checkered shirts, plus his navy puffer vest. 

After I grabbed a pair of tongs and a tray to start piling on the pan dulce (I won't even share how it smelled in there because I will make myself hungry and I am trying to act right with my nutrition #RonaDiet2020), I heard the señor shout to the women behind the counter, "Que paso, ya no hay pequitos?" To those who know the Spanish name of this bread, it is obviously "puerquitos," or little pig, but this pronunciation of the word without the 'u' and the 'r' is one that is used to make the sound of the word even more diminutive, or childish--almost as a term of endearment.

The puerquito pan dulce at La Favorita Panaderia (taken on a return visit)

The way he pronounced it stopped me in my tracks. The way he pronounced this word is the exact same way my daddy used to pronounce it when playing with the toes of my children. He would pretend to eat their toes, the little piggies, to make them giggle and he would say, "Me voy a comer este pequito." I looked at Lorena for a sign that I wasn't losing my mind, that I was still in the same panaderia and not in some weird daydream session. She looked at me standing there with my empty tray and asked me what was wrong. Without the ability to explain to her what was going through my head and heart, I told her that they were out of the mini conchas and I would have to get another type of pan dulce. That became my new mission so I could ignore the feelings that were going to cause me to break down crying on Fourth Street at a random panaderia.

After filling up my tray with warm and delicious pan dulce I wasn't even going to be able to enjoy, I stood in line for my bread to be priced and bagged. The older señor took his place in line behind me.

I froze up. I was afraid to look at him so I looked around to see where Lorena was and hoped she would come stand with me. I heard a voice from behind me say, "Tu no eres de por aqui." I wanted to ignore it, but I wondered how he knew that I wasn't from around there, that I wasn't a true Angelena. I answered, "Si, si soy de aqui," I figured that I could tell him that I was from around there because even though Boyle Heights wasn't my hometown, it was the place that held the biggest piece of my heart.

I could tell he wasn't buying into my stretched truth, so he replied with, "Sabes como se que no eres de por aqui?" I didn't know how to answer him when he asked me if I knew why he questioned that I was from around there. I just shook my head left and right, which gave him the go-ahead to tell me his opinion. He said, "Se que no eres de por aqui por que tu eres muy bonita para ser de aqui." It wasn't what he said that threw me off, although I didn't believe that I was too "bonita" to be from around the block. It was his eyes. The almond shape of his eyes and that faraway look as though he was thinking of someone from long, long ago. His bushy black eyebrows contrasted the silver strands of wisdom he had atop his head and it was in that moment, the moment I saw my reflection in his eyes that I pictured myself at El Toro Panaderia in Santa Ana throughout my childhood.

His eyes were the shape of my daddy's and I was momentarily thrown off by the fact that my heart suddenly shattered from nostalgia; his voice is what brought me back to the present. He asked me what I was doing in that area because he visited the panaderia almost every morning and had never seen me. I briefly told him about Chicanas, Cholas, y Chisme and my play. I told him that I spent a lot of time at CASA 0101 Theater and he knew exactly where it was because his pharmacy shares a wall with the theater. After inviting him to watch the plays, I quickly paid the woman behind the counter, found Lorena, and began walking out of the panaderia.

I have returned several times to La Favorita hoping to find the señor with my daddy's eyes, but I haven't had any luck. I believe that when I stop looking for him I just may run into him somewhere else. Until our paths cross again, I hope that the señor finds his "pequitos" every time he's at La Favorita.

Life is good, even when I'm missing my daddy.

On Kindness Amidst the Chaos: We Need to do Better

Yesterday I spent the better part of my evening going from one store to another to buy some basic staples for the house. We have about 9 rolls of toilet paper left between both bathrooms, and although that doesn't constitute an emergency situation, I wanted to prevent running out and not being able to find any. 

Before leaving the house I sat down with my amazing and falsely calm husband to make a list of the things we really need. We didn't want to buy more than we needed because we simply don't have the space in our home to store a year's worth of toilet paper--we just needed enough to get through the next two weeks. 

I started the conversation by asking him, "Is my fear a legitimate fear?" I know what you may be thinking--all fears are legitimate because fear is subjective. Well, although this may be true on the surface, folks who have anxiety (points at self) and/or depression or are not neurotypical often experience fear(s) that can be quelled by kind and rational logic (points at husband). He responded to me, "It's ok to be afraid, but we are going to be just fine. But we may need toilet paper." So toilet paper became the first item on my list. 

As we began to start building our shopping list, we realized it was going to be short because we have the privilege of being able to keep a well-stocked pantry. We had what we needed in our basic staples of beans and rice, pastas and sauces, grains, spices, condiments, and paper products. What we did not have an abundance of was dishwashing liquid, laundry detergent, and bleach. So those also went on the list. But then the realization hit us that they may shut down schools in our area and our kids will then be home while the two of us are at work. 

This is when my panic began. I took a mental inventory of what I thought was in the refrigerator and what we had in the freezer. My mind shifted into quarantine mode and wondered what we would do if we were stuck together in a house for a week, two weeks, a month, even. For the record, nobody in our house is sick. No one has a sniffle. Not a single member of my family has any symptoms of any illness or pain, not even a stubbed toe. I, a rational 48-year-old woman with an advanced degree in education, temporarily lost my mind and visualized the apocalypse. I felt the onset of tears coming on and when I turned to look at my husband, he was casually scrolling through his phone--a clear indication that my vision of the apocalypse was not a legitimate fear. I quickly gathered my mental marbles and returned to my list. 

"Bleach? Do we need bleach?" I asked, hoping my voice would bring him back to MY reality. 

"I guess we can use a few bottles," he casually responded, as though he had been in the stores and somehow knew "a few bottles" would just be sitting on the shelves. 

"But what happens if I don't find bleach on the shelves? What are we going to do?" I asked him, knowing full well that my fear wasn't about bleach not being on the shelves, but really it was about finding a myriad of empty shelves. 

"We're still going to be ok. Babe, we have most everything we need. Just get basic stuff and then we will go and find other stuff another time," and with that sentence I left the house on a mission to check off everything on my short list. 

The first store I arrived at was Target on Seal Beach Blvd., where I found parking pretty quickly. I grabbed a wipe from the dispenser and quickly cleaned my shopping cart before making my way to the paper goods department. 

EMPTY SHELVES

I had been to stores in the last week where there are shelves that are sparse, but I have never in my life seen four aisles of shelves bare in an otherwise full store. I inched closer to two people who were talking to each other in the empty aisle and they were arguing. One lady who was probably in her late 60s was saying that all she wanted was toilet paper and she couldn't understand why she can't just go to her local store to buy what she needs. The man who was arguing with her, presumably in his late 30s early 40s, was telling her that people are losing their minds over fake news. "Everyone is overreacting. No one is going to die of this in the U.S. and this is just far-left propaganda." 

I WAS HOOKED AND COULDN'T WALK AWAY

They went back and forth on who was allowed to be concerned enough to buy out all the shelves. She became so flustered with his apathy that she finally said, "I live in Leisure World. I can't take this lightly because I'm not as young as you." That's when my breath stopped. The fact that this man was deliberately being unkind to an elder because he could not empathize with her LEGITIMATE fear broke me. I could not understand how a grown-ass man-child could think it was acceptable to look a distressed human in the eye and tell her that she was overreacting. What a huge privilege to be so untouched, unphased, and out-of-touch with the reality some folks are facing. 

I walked over to him and asked him to please leave her alone. He looked at me strangely as though I had spoken in a language foreign to him and that's when I realized that I said, "Dejala en paz," which translates to 'leave her in peace.' I was projecting. I imagined that the woman was my own mother and my brain automatically code switched to Spanish. When I realized this I corrected myself and said, "Her worries are different than yours." Six simple words. True words. That's all it took for him to be broken from his neanderthal spell and walk away from her. 

I watched him walk away shaking his head. The woman stood there looking at me and said, "I wonder if he knows his mom or his grandma may have the same worries I do." I had no words to help her other than apologizing for her experience and telling her that I hope she found what she needed soon. 

I continued shopping the almost-empty shelves for things I still had on my list and left 30 minutes later. 

Next stop, Big Lots. The store was relatively uninhabited compared to Target, but still the shelves were empty. I was able to pick up a few snacks that weren't available at Target in anticipation of the children being out of school for the next few weeks. (At the writing of this post, we have not been given word that our schools are releasing students.) 

Next stop, Target in north Westminster, where shelves were just as bare but the store was bustling with folks buying up all the canned food from the shelves. My first stop was to the feminine hygiene section to stock up on supplies for the family. The Target in Seal Beach had very limited supplies left but the Westminster Target looked as though it had just been replenished with pads and tampons--lucky us!

I made my way over to the meat section to buy lunch meat and packaged meats for the omnivores, and tempeh and tofu for the Wolf. There was plenty to buy there to get us through the next week and I put just enough in my cart to complete the meal calendar I quickly came up with. I bought a few more cans of chickpeas before heading to the cash register. I chose the only human cashier available downstairs even though the person in front of me had a whole cart full of groceries and I only had about 15 items. 

The gentleman continued unloading his groceries while he uncomfortably explained that his wife had given him a list of items that they "absolutely needed to get through the next two weeks of quarantine" in their household. The cashier asked him if they had tested positive for the flu and when he said that they were all healthy, she chuckled and asked him why he was overreacting. HERE WE GO AGAIN. 

I listened as he explained to her that they had an infant at home and his wife really did not want to take any chances because it was their first baby. It meant that he would need to be doing all the shopping because he did not want to take the chance of his wife and child becoming exposed to illness unnecessarily. She said to him, "I think people are overreacting. They don't need to do so much. Again, that's just my opinion, but I really think everyone is overreacting." 

This man just spent seven minutes justifying his purchases. He didn't have to give any reason why he was SPENDING MONEY in Target, as he wasn't asking for a handout. He did not need to be told that his wife's concerns were insignificant. All she needed to do was smile and take his money. 

I was next...she began to ring up my canned chickpeas, pork chops, tempeh, tofu, lentils, and trail mix. She asked me if I was buying for the apocalypse and before I could even answer what I was doing at my third store of the evening, she said, "You know this is all a big conspiracy. People are overreacting and making it worse for everyone. Everyone needs to relax." My mama taught me to be kind. My mama taught me to keep my mouth shut and stay classy in times of adversity. In other words, my mama prepared me to prevent becoming a tempest in register aisle 6 of Target. I simply thanked her with a smile and said, "Your worries are different than mine."

I didn't find toilet paper or paper towels last night or today. I went to a total of 9 stores in 24 hours and I did not find a single roll. What I did find was folks who were willfully unkind who chose to belittle others while they were at their lowest. We share the same space, air, natural and community resources, and yet some still need to be reminded that just because something is not of concern to them does not mean that it is not a concern to someone else. 

I hope you all find what you're looking for on those shelves: I hope you find kindness, empathy, and a few spare rolls of toilet paper to get your family through this period of social distancing. And for those of you with school-aged children, I wish you much success in navigating childcare, school-time meals, and the social needs of your children while school days are suspended. 

For those who have found it easy or fun or natural to be unkind to those who find themselves worried amidst this Covid-19 chaos, be mindful--their worries are different than yours.