By Adam Zurbruegg, Chairman, Board of Directors
I’ve always loved the Fall. It seems like the shortest season: a brief flash of beautiful colors and crisp smells that fades too soon into Winter’s white.
It’s easy to associate Fall with endings. The leaves drop, Summer fades, the harvest must be reaped before it turns to rot. But endings herald beginnings, and the Fall also brings new life: the school year, the football season, flannel jackets and beef stew. New seasons begin in theatre, television, music, and dance. The entertainment industry re-awakens from its fanciful dream of summer stock and blockbuster films and, like kids returning to school, emerges refreshed from its summer jaunts and ready to begin the work again.
Fall is neither a beginning nor an end, but a change. It is a transitory time, like dusk and dawn, or the foggy moments before falling asleep or waking up. In that brief flash of color things are both on and off, here and there, yesterday and tomorrow.
September approaches, and with it comes LITC’s debut performance. Even this is not a beginning. It’s a change. For the members of the collective, it’s the next step in the long walk that’s led us here. This march to September can be traced back to Winter, when we incorporated and began the work in earnest; or ten years ago, when many of us were college theatre students together; or further still, to a small group of childhood friends playing pretend in backyards in Wantagh. So, in a way, the collective has always existed, and this Fall is not a beginning, but the turning of a page in a story that has had many chapters, eras, seasons.
We hope, too, that this marks a time of change for you, our audience. You’ve seen live theatre, but we’d like to show it to you a little differently. You may have been to Rambo Hall, but this Fall it will become a space of stories, a backyard for us all to play pretend.
So, let’s enjoy this Fall. Embrace the transition, the straddling of things, the on and the off. There’s time for a few more cookouts, or for simmering stew. Make one more trip to Jones Beach, even if you need that flannel jacket. Take in the changing leaves, that brief flash of red and yellow that reminds us that we are meant to change, and grow, and begin, and begin again. And make plans to join us on September 26-27 for The Pillowman. Like the colors of the leaves it will come and go quickly before it is on to the next new beginning.