Remembering Tina Howe

 

I was so sad to learn this morning of the death of Tina Howe.  I loved Tina and her plays.  She was by far my favorite contemporary playwright, and possibly my favorite ever.  I interviewed her many times, including for my second master's thesis, which was a study of her life and work.  I have wonderful memories of sitting in her West End Avenue apartment talking to her.  She was always generous with her time.

I first encountered her in the mid-1980s when I saw Painting Churches at Baltimore’s Center Stage.  That was the beginning of my love for Tina Howe plays.

A decade later I taught her plays one summer at Brooklyn College and my students, some of whom had never seen or read a play, fell in love with her too.  Although there wasn't a WASP among us -- and Tina was a WASP who wrote about that world -- they understood her plays because she frequently has characters talking at cross purposes in their frustration to be listened to.  My students, many of whom were immigrants, knew about that.  They even volunteered to take parts and read her plays out loud, which students are usually reluctant to do.  I can still hear their thick accents and laughter.

The course had been the dreaded but required English 2, the term paper.  The department chair had told me to mold it around something I liked so I chose four of Tina’s plays – Museum, The Art of Dining, Painting Churches and Coastal Disturbances.  I taught the students how to look for themes and make comparisons.  I sent them to the New York Public Library for the Performing Arts for research, this being in the days before the Internet.  They had never been there and didn’t know where it was until I told them. 

I also required them to read the theatre stories each week in the Arts & Leisure section.  I had talked to them about how Tina loved to use absurdist humor, explaining what that was and getting them to identify it in her work.  One Sunday A&L featured a story on Samuel Beckett and one of the students excitedly said: “He’s like Tina.” Tina laughed when I told her that.  Beckett had been one of her idols since she discovered his work during her year living in Paris, with her best friend Jane Alexander, after college.  I told her she was the students’ point of reference as far as all theatre went.

Our classroom was on the fourth floor of Boylan Hall, right under the roof, making our hot, unairconditioned classroom even hotter.  On our final day as we were summing up I told the students they were now Tina Howe scholars.  They laughed as if I was kidding but I told them many people love Tina’s plays but they hadn’t studied them in depth and made comparisons.  I insisted they were, indeed, Tina Howe scholars.  I could see them sitting up straighter and smiling.  They probably hadn’t thought of themselves as scholars of much of anything, and certainly hadn’t expected to become one from a term paper course.

One of the students said she had been dreading the class but ended up loving it.  The others chimed in with their agreement.  I told them I felt the same way.  When I called Tina to tell her their reaction and how much they loved her plays, she humbly said, “I think it’s because they had a good teacher.”  No, the real reason was Tina and her plays. 

When I interviewed her for my thesis and told her how I adored her endings, she said she always went for an epiphany.  That was Tina, a shimmering light.  I have tears as I write this.  How blessed I was to have known her.  How blessed we all are with what she has left us.

 

https://www.nytimes.com/2023/08/29/theater/tina-howe-dead.html

Dramatizing a Dramatic Diagnosis: A Conversation with Sam Simon

 

Dramatizing a dramatic diagnosis

A Conversation with Sam Simon

 

Trained as a lawyer, Samuel A. (Sam) Simon started his career as a member of Ralph Nader’s first legal advocacy group in Washington, D.C. He went on to start his own consulting firm and became a regular commentator on national news programs. In 2018 he was diagnosed with MCI (Mild Cognitive Impairment). In 2021 he was diagnosed with early Alzheimer’s disease. He is writing a play, Dementia Man: An Existential Journey, about his experience with the disease.

Your background is in the law and public affairs. How did you come to write your first play, The Actual Dance, about being the spouse of someone living with cancer? You became a playwright and performer.

I was taking improv classes with a theatre group in New York in 2000 when my wife was diagnosed with advanced breast cancer. We had been married for 34 years. I had to come to terms with it. She was not supposed to survive. One improv exercise was to stand up and talk for 20 minutes. In that 20 minutes I began talking about something I had not realized was in me. It’s what I call spiritual trauma. I had an experience that I needed to talk about. Theatre enabled me to find an outlet.

Susan did come through her cancer but now you have a different diagnosis to deal with and have again turned to dramatic expression.

Yes, my diagnosis of Alzheimer’s. It never occurred to me that I could write and perform a play with Alzheimer’s. A theatrical friend and colleague, Gail Schickele,  who markets solo artists and who was a fan of my work, encouraged me. She had seen The Actual Dance. I can’t tell you how energizing it is. I have a huge need to change the narrative around and reimagine the use of that dirty word dementia and the stereotypes. This feels like the most important work of my life. My mission is to make it available to everybody who needs it. I believe in the power of the arts.

Theatre discovered me through the role of being a caregiver of the wife I was expected to lose. It’s a privilege to be there for that person. Now the shoes are on the other foot.

The preview portion of Dementia Man that you have finished was showcased in January at the highly selective Association of Performing Arts Professional Conference in New York. What was the reaction?

It had an extraordinary reception. I held the script because I didn’t have it memorized. The playwright Jeffrey Sweet said, “Keep the script. It becomes part of the show. When you got on the stage and talked we heard you. We didn’t notice the script.” It makes sense in the context of the play. I was humbled by the feedback and encouraged to get this out there.

Your character describes your shockingly insensitive treatment by your first neurologist. When you asked, “What’s next?” he replied, “There’s only one future for you, down. Things will get worse.” What do you have to say about that now?

The neurological world is profoundly broken. I experienced Susan going through breast cancer. People were there to help. There were support groups. There was literature. With my diagnosis of dementia  (I prefer neuropsychological disease) it was, “Get your affairs in order.” I wasn’t told about any support groups. It was about as stark a contrast as you can get.

What’s next for you and the play?

I’m delighted to report that Dementia Man, An Existential Journey, was selected for premiere in the Washington, DC. Capitol Fringe Festival in July. I’ve already had one reading at community center, and ANDTheater Company hosted a work-in-progress performance in New York.  We received terrific feedback we will use to keep getting better.

My goal is to show that even with a cognitive disorder it is possible to live with dignity and have a meaningful life. I am so animated. I’m in the early stages and everyday I learn something new. There’s no doubt I’m impaired but only mildly impaired now.

I’m not going to walk away from my disease and feel sorry for myself. I will embrace the life I’m given. Choose life. That’s a bit of my faith. The cardinal rule of Judaism is to choose life. I’ve been made to use my disease to be useful to myself and others.

 

Excerpt from Dementia Man:

I am now at the five-year mark from the initial MCI diagnosis. We have since learned a lot more about Alzheimer’s. And I can sense things getting worse. It raises the stakes on what to do next. What are my choices?

. . .  maybe, I should stick around, and figure out how to live a meaningful life as a deeply forgetful and confused person. Maybe I can cause trouble, and advocate for the world to accommodate me as I will be. I have been a troublemaker most of my life.

I wrote this feature for Alzheimer’s TODAY magazine, published by the Alzheimer’s Foundation of America.