Rehearsals for the play, Little Women, were condensed because of the pandemic. Usually a rigorous and meticulous schedule begins in January, such that each scene gets its share of attention. Blocking, musical numbers, dialogue, and entrances are all pounded into place in anticipation of two weekends of multiple audiences. But social distancing made everything harder. 

 

Eventually permission came down the pipeline for a single, modest collection of fans. Families of the cast were spread out across the theater, eager to see the result of shuttling their kids back and forth for weeks, and listening to solos over breakfast. 

 

It was marvelous. I am always surprised by the culmination of lights, costumes, voices, and incredible sets. This year the effect was magnified by the uncertainty that hovered over the entire process. The crew in charge of schlepping bulky structures that transformed the stage into an attic, a parlor, a ballroom, and a boarding house worked hard. I knew this in theory. But because of other restraints there was no effort to hide their labors in the dark. We watched the dance of half a dozen students leaning into the heft of a rolling staircase, a piano, a bed, and armchairs. They knew the puzzle of making everything fit behind the scrim, and in what sequence they should move them. My appreciation grew from the chance to witness it. 

 

Then there were the songs. When Mr. Brooks proposes to Meg, he feels unworthy. He has enlisted in the army and is hesitant to ask for her promise just as he is about to leave. But her eagerness encourages him to speak his heart.

 

"If you will say you love me... I will be more than I am."

 

By stepping into the surety of commitment they can both weather the swirling circumstances around them. 

 

Rather like us.