Overcoming H(Sav)annah
There it was—literally in black and
white: my name. I scanned the other
black scribbles to see who my new family would be for the next months of my
life—they were all Seniors—and I was the only Sophomore. Great, they’re going to love me… Even my thoughts had a sour taste of
sarcasm. I desperately scanned once more pleading with the paper to have a
least one more familiar name, but when the crisp, mid-December breeze reminded
me of the lateness of the evening as Jack Frost was clearly “nipping at [my]
nose” I was brought back to what my new reality was. No matter how many times I
would check, my name wouldn’t change so I skated my way over the slick cement
to the heated oasis of my family’s average Utah mini-van.
“Well, I’m Hannah Ferguson!” I excitedly shared, not
realizing the true honor it was.
“Hey hey!!” Dad beamed at me as if I
had already won my first Tony Award, “Don’t you know how great that is?!”
“Kinda, I mean I’m the only
sophomore in the cast so that’s really cool. I just don’t really know who
Hannah is!” I was on the verge of sounding ungrateful so I quickly added, “But
I’m so excited to find out! Do you know who Hannah is?”
“Oh I dunno, only the leading role
practically!” He continued to beam as if he could see me collecting my awards
now.
The leading role? As a sophomore? The Only sophomore? OH no… The seniors are going to have my
head for this… My thoughts of worry and dread must have shown so much I
might as well have been a clown with the giant frown of its face.
“That’s just great,” I mumbled
hoping my father’s superman hearing was deactivated for the night.
“What was that? Do you not think
this is great?!” clearly it was active.
“Dad, of course I’m excited! I’m
just the only Sophomore and it’s only a cast of six. They’re going to hate me!”
my true fear was out and my dad clearly did not appreciate its child-like
attitude.
“Did you not work hard? Did you give
it your all? Do you have the talent to perform this role?” All of this
questions rang true as I remembered the hours spent to searching, rehearsing,
and performing those mere 30 seconds of words and 16 bars of music.
“Yes, but—“
“No but’s!” My father interrupted,
“You are going to do this and you’re gonna rock it! I know it. Now, let’s go
tell your mom.”
Mom was just as thrilled as dad was
and with her warm embrace I could feel the chill of my fear wash away like
spring’s thawing of winter. I could do
this, they’re right I have worked hard. I’ve worked so hard for this! My
excitement started to grow as leaned on the potential my parents saw shining
through me. After all, I had just received a leading role as a Sophomore I must
have been somewhat talented.
. . .
"STOP! Try it again!" This had been going on
for hours, Mr. Randall looked at me as if I had destroyed his most prized
possession a thousand times. "People. We open in two weeks, I can't let
this cast perform if Ms. Hess cannot portray this correctly then Megan will
have to perform in both casts.”
No! This was my
role, I thought as the blaring lights
highlighted my blush more than I was comfortable with I can do this, I just need more time... ha
more time, I've got two weeks. Rehearsals had followed the same
pattern for what felt like years, aging me, and my confidence was wearing thin.
Each run I would progressively receive cutting notes—more than anyone else in
the two casts. I knew my lines more than I knew what I was mastering in math,
my songs more than I knew my childhood best friend, but those were not what was
holding my progression back. It was my youth—who knew being 16 would be such a bad thing I thought as I left
rehearsal every night.
"Mr. Randall, I can do this! Just tell me what
more you want, I don't know what you want!" My pleading voice struck
something in him, and I wasn't sure if I liked it.
"I need you to be 72 not 16. We've talked about
Hannah, you know her. Now, be her.
When you walk on that stage do you know what I see? I see Savannah Hess, not Hannah Ferguson, and if I see
Savannah one more time then Megan will be playing both casts. Do you
understand?" With his beady blue eyes piercing into my already weak
self-esteem I did understand.
"Yes, I understand." with my voice cracking
I knew I was heading into a dangerous road, "You'll never see Savannah
again, I promise. May I excuse myself for a moment?" With his approval I
ran off the newly painted scene and to the only place I knew Mr. Randall
wouldn't find me: the seminary building across the street.
I had often found refuge in this warm, red brick
building, but the real refuge was in the giant arms of my dad. As I entered his
office the tears were already past my cheeks and down my neck. My green eyes
glistened with sadness as I sat in the best seat in the world, next to my Papa.
"Vannah! What's wrong? I thought you were at rehearsal."
His voice was knowing as he inquired why I was clearly not where I was meant to
be.
"Dad, I can't do this anymore. He wants me to be
72 when I'm only 16! I don't know how to be old!" I often vented to my dad
but this was a whole new load I was carrying.
"Oh sweet girl" my dad's soothing tone
enveloped me as his arms wrapped around me, "you don't have to know how to
be old, you just need to know how to be Hannah. How are you going to be
Hannah?"
"I don't know what you mean!" I sniffled as
the tears continued to travel down my soaking face, "She's a grouch and I
don't know how to be a grouch!"
"You're missing the point!" a new sharpness
entered into his voice, "What's her story, why is she a grouch?!"
"... She's hurt." a new realization entered
into my heart. The tears stopped and a new warmth filled my heart. I kissed my
dad’s shiny head and off I went. Of
course! I thought, Hannah isn’t a
grouch for no reason, she’s hurt from her past and is seeking out forgiveness,
but she’s too prideful to just ask for it! Why didn’t I see this before! Hurt
would age anybody a few years. I think I just broke Hannah! As I ran back
to the school I felt as though feet could not carry me fast enough back onto
that glowing world that The Spitfire Grill had offered me.
As I entered the stage the once blaring lights took a
new tone as I walked into the world of Hannah; they weren't lights anymore- they
were the sun. And I was home.
"Ah! There she is! Welcome back Savannah"
Mr. Randall seemed surprised that I had returned.
“You're wrong Mr. Randall. I'm Hannah, Hannah
Ferguson." and rehearsal continued.
The next two weeks were grueling as we polished and
perfected each scene. With each day I could feel myself morphing into the world
of Hannah. My confidence grew stronger as my bones grew weak and voice aged as
quickly as a 12 year-old boy. Not only was confidence growing but each time I
would come out of the world of Hannah Ferguson I would learn something new
about myself.
. . .
“Now, Ms. Hess. Your portfolio and
resume are quite impressive, but where did your passion for theater begin?” my
interviewer looked up squinty-eyed, tired from looking at hundreds of
portfolios.
That’s
the easiest yet hardest thing he could’ve asked me! My thoughts had been on
edge all throughout my interview for Sterling Scholar, but I soon was at ease
when images of that 72 year-old woman entered into my mind Thank you Hannah I thought as I began to tell the story of a young
sophomore girl who didn’t know how to
be old but she did learn how to
become someone new. When the interview was over I shook my interviewer’s hand
and walked out passing the old picture display—I looked at my old memories,
being fond of each one, but I couldn’t find Savannah Hess anywhere. And that’s
just the way I liked it.
My fantastic "family"
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