Saturday Evening Play

Agonizing. Frightening. Tension-filled. White-knuckler. War of nerves.

Possibly, not how play-goers usually describe performances of The Fiddler on the Roof, especially as performed by the local high-school students sporting generous amounts of gray spray-on hair, charming Russian accents, and cleverly-tattered beggar's rags.

It wasn't the performances. It was the 16 (yes, count 'em) set changes, between every act, as black-clad sprites attempted, without success, to move loads 'o things in the dark.

Crashes were heard. Tinkling sounds of breakage. Horrifying collisions by heavy objects. An occasional "ow!" Each time the lights dimmed, dread in the audience grew. Prayers were said. Fingers were crossed, to no apparent avail.

Well, a good time was had by all...except maybe the stagehand crew.

Moo!