A Star Danced

I’ve always wanted to be an inspiration.

I’ve always wanted to be someone who makes people see themselves in a different light. It’s one of the reasons I’m an actor. In the last three months I have lost two influential people in my life, both college professors.

My Shakespeare professor, Dr. Gordon Lell, died in April. Thanks to this man, I now have an uncanny ability to rattle off Shakespearean facts and the need to purchase every Shakespeare Bobble Head I see.

A STORY:
I invited Dr. Lell to my college graduation. I told him in an email that he didn’t have to bring a gift unless he was going to bring that black BMW I had always wanted (aren’t I clever…) He showed up to my reception wearing his classic tweed suit and handed me a magazine page on which was a picture of a beautiful black BMW. Scribbled across the top he had written, “It’s the thought that counts, right?” Indeed. He then handed me a card and when I protested (No gifts!!) he just smiled and said it was nothing. As I opened the card I noticed a yellow post-it stuck to the top. He had written, in his scribbled hand,

“…but then there was a star danced, and under that was I born.”
Much Ado About Nothing 2.1 319-20

It wasn’t nothing to me, Dr. Lell. I still have that yellow post-it.

*********************************

Helen Cermak, my theatre professor, director, and fellow feminist ended her battle with cancer yesterday.

She taught one of the most influential classes I took at Concordia: Women in Theatre. This class changed the way I felt about being a woman. Helen taught me that I don’t have to apologize for having an opinion, that I should be proud and not ashamed of my body, and to constantly strive for equality in big things (like wages) to smaller things (like way we speak to each other.)

A STORY:
During every class, Helen would ask a question that called for a bold, risky answer. She would call on us to give our opinions about books, plays, or our place in the world. And every single day she would say,

”Jessica, Jessica….what do you think?”

Despite my downcast eyes and the fact that I made a habit of trying to sit out of her eye line, she would always ask me first. It became a class joke and it would drive me crazy.

As I think about that now, I think Helen was trying to make a point. She knew the thing I struggled with most was giving my opinion regardless of what other people thought. I wanted to be the sweet, nice, Midwest girl! Heaven forbid I be a woman with an idea different from someone else!! Everyday she forced me to own up to the fact that I – much to my surprise – have an opinion.

When I heard that Helen had passed away so quickly after Dr. Lell, I didn’t quite know what to do. I couldn’t fly back for the memorial service because I am the poor struggling artist she always wanted me to be.

Death always confuses me. What do you do when you hear someone has died? Do you pause? Do you stop your day? Do you cry? Do you laugh?

Or do you keep on going?

Keep on living the way they taught you to live. Keep on striving to make art and to seek knowledge. Keep on trying to make them proud. Their legacy lives on through the beauty they taught their students to create. I guess you can never really lose someone if you keep giving back what they gave you.

I have taken with what they have taught me to my life here in Hollywood. Every time I feel that I’m not good enough, I remember Dr. Lell and that yellow post-it. I remember Helen every time I sit down to write this blog and remind myself that I am a brilliant, smart woman with my own opinions…and I don’t have to apologize for that.

Thank you.

Thank you Gordon and Helen for reminding me that I am an artist and I have something beautiful to contribute to the world.