Xxx

GARFIELD

Stephen, you have no idea what you have given me here.

I love that you feel somewhat unburdened. It makes me think of lines from a favorite Rilke poem: “This is how he grows: by being defeated, decisively, by constantly greater beings.” That’s how I feel about Tony’s play: I’m blessed to be crushed by its demands over and again.

So funny that your body feels like it should be limping. I remember a performance where I was in the wings, and I wasn’t limping, having forgotten to. As soon as I crossed the threshold to the stage the limp came without any thought. My body was saving me from messing up. Miraculous!

That’s what this play, in part, feels like to me. A grief-prayer-song-celebration. Letting those souls lost in the plague know that we remember them, helping them to continue their crossing over the sea of death and into their rightful place in the infinite. Especially that epilogue.

I’ve truly felt lighter since we started this correspondence, Stephen. I’ve felt carried through the play each night. Carried on the wings of all you’ve so generously shared. This will of course make you feel once more like the queen on the Prior float, but please just wave and smile and accept my adulation and gratitude.

The image of you and your husband driving Highway 1 has me thinking of Northern California. It’s where I go to remember myself. When I, as Prior, describe the real San Francisco as being unspeakably beautiful, I’m actually conjuring that glorious dramatic natural coastline through Big Sur.

Sending you and the whole company all my love from the Neil Simon Theater. My hand is at your back as I feel yours on mine.

I can’t wait to meet in person. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Love,

Andrew. X