Carol Mitchell-Leon was one of the first people I met, back in 1985, when I became a member of the company of actors at the original Academy Theatre on Peachtree Street in Atlanta. Actually, she was still Carol Mitchell at that moment, as she had not yet become close with, and gotten married to, the incredibly talented Kenny Leon(That marriage ended in 1998).
Carol would beam that soon-to-be-famous-smile every day that I was fortunate enough to see her. She was always helpful, from pointing me in the correct direction for great food, to offering her help when I was working as an apprentice with Academy.
And although I knew her through the Academy Theatre, I would, over the course of the next nearly 24 years, see her in countless plays, and watch her on-screen. And I would marvel.I marveled at her ability to completely inhabit a role; Carol dove into the roles she was cast into, with the gusto of an Olympic athlete.
Never afraid of challenges, a few of her roles have included characters such as a cruel mother, a dysfunctional one-half of a scary married couple, and even one of the Delaney sisters in the real-life eldery duo's play based on their best-selling book, "The Delaney Sisters: Having Our Say."
Even with all the attention(well-deserved) she received, Carol remained always, flawlessly, grateful. She lived and breathed, gratefulness.
A few nights ago, a "Bon Voyage" party was held for Carol, at Atlanta's 7 Stages' Theatre. And although I'm certain it would be the kind of upbeat, fitting tribute("Let's celebrate her life")that Carol would have preferred, I could not bear to attend, because although I appreciated her skills as an actress, and was always deeply moved by her performances, I regretted--sorrowfully, unenduringly regretted--not becoming closer with her. Not staying-in-touch the way one should, when one is so moved by someone, so special.
And so, on Monday night, I sat at home, rifling through a few trinkets--ticket stubs of plays she performed in, running my hands over programs where her name appears,and making a conscious effort, not to cry.
I recalled how, when I learned she was ill, (my understanding is that she suffered an infection. A 1990 kidney transplant had served her well, but it seems nothing lasts forever),I kept thinking she'd recover quickly, be up and around, and back to doing what she did--performing--so well. I heard she'd regained consciousness, and even spoke.
While she was in the hospital, I knelt in front of candles in Catholic church, and said the rosary for her.I wanted to see Carol Mitchell-Leon, and I selfishly wanted to see her where I best knew her--onstage, thrilling everyone, including me, with her deliberate, nuanced performances.
Carol, I wish I'd had the chance, and made the time, to get to know you as a dear friend. But please know you are a mentor--an acting-mentor, and now, a spiritual-mentor, to me. God Bless You and Yours.
Peace in your journey, beautiful girl, towards home.
To see a list of film and television projects Carol participated in, you may reach her IMDB page at the following address:
http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0593817/
Peace, kids.
Showing posts with label Academy Theatre. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Academy Theatre. Show all posts
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
HARDCORE.
That's how I'd describe the fans of President-elect Barack Obama, and the mood at Manuel's Tavern, last night. Pal Danny M. and I arrived and did a meet-up with a pal from my old Academy Theatre days(1985, 1986), one very fine actor-turned-great-teacher Mack. His wife Debra was lovely, and I was able to meet their friends, a couple from the UK, both of whom pined for the ability to cast a vote for Obama.
The demographic mix at Manuel's was about as reflective of our country as you could get--Latino/Hispanic(I'm never sure which term folks prefer, so I'm using both), Black-American(the new "preferred" term for blacks(African-American is considered "confusing" nowadays) says my pal Coral, who lived in D.C. for many years and is quite active in politics), Asian, South Asian, White, Young, Old, Very Old, Suburban, Intown, Gay, Lesbian, Bi, Straight.It was quite a party, filling up the entire back parking lot, as camera crews buzzed about, and folks began congratulations, long before the announcement would be made. We were enjoying it for a little over an hour, but hunger took over(Manuel's has great food, but there were NO tables left!!), as did my lack of tolerance for beer being spilled on my pretty shoes(by customers,not the staff!). So at approximately 11:00 P.M., we walked to "The Majestic" diner(if you're ever in Atlanta, it's still the most "authentic" diner food, though they've added "healthy" selections to the menu). Danny and I had a nice chat, and he had an omelette, as I chowed down on pancakes.
As we stepped out, it was obvious something had happened. Eerily quiet at first.
I noticed a voice-mail from my dear friend, Coral, on my cell. I played the message and heard only three words:"WE DID IT", and I could hear screaming in the background.
We switched on the car-radio to hear the news. And I called her back and we spoke a few moments, and I'm sure we were both in tears(I know I was--tears of joy!).
At first, I was upset at not having "witnessed" what I'd come to Manuel's for. I was even considering returning(Danny M.'s suggestion), but it struck me that I had seen what I needed to--I'd seen confirmation of what we've all been feeling these past 20 months. This longing for change was not hyperbole, it was real--IS real, and I felt redeemed in seeing it, via all those faces at Manuel's:
The children in tow, pasted with proud parents' "I VOTED" stickers; the fellows on motorcycles, looking rather like "roughnecks"(mullet-hair, scruffy beards, ripped t-shirts), but behaving like the inclusive, loving people they actually are, doing Obama fist-bumps, toasting to the inevitable victory; two blond girls, no older than 22, diligently studying their red/blue homemade maps, and matching their figures to what was onscreen. One of them commented to me,"Once he wins California, it's[the election] his..."; the ubiquitous "Sarah Palin" lookalikes dotted throughout the pub, who brought forth peals of laughter from all of us who see that caricature of a human being for what she is; the white-haired older gentlemen showing a nephew around, exclaiming, "Yep, this is where we come, son....".
These people made me feel pride in our strength, in our sense of humor, in our sense of ourselves.
I am physically sore, because of all the fist-pumping and "Obama-bumping" I did, dangling my arm outside Danny M.'s vintage Trans Am's car-window. I yelled "Obama, Obama", until I became hoarse. The returned chants of "Obama, Obama" began to sound like a ballad of sorts, or maybe an anthem.
When I arrived back here in the sleepy suburb of Alpharetta, lights were on in only a few homes. I decided to have Danny snap an "After" photo of my Obama sign and me, to contrast with the ones he snapped a couple of weeks ago. In this one(you'll see it at the end of this post), you'll see a very authentically happy Lisa.
I think President-Elect Barack Obama has proven what he set out to prove: that we can do it. We can be the kind of country where everything is possible, for all of us.
Yes, we can!
Peace, kids.
That's how I'd describe the fans of President-elect Barack Obama, and the mood at Manuel's Tavern, last night. Pal Danny M. and I arrived and did a meet-up with a pal from my old Academy Theatre days(1985, 1986), one very fine actor-turned-great-teacher Mack. His wife Debra was lovely, and I was able to meet their friends, a couple from the UK, both of whom pined for the ability to cast a vote for Obama.
The demographic mix at Manuel's was about as reflective of our country as you could get--Latino/Hispanic(I'm never sure which term folks prefer, so I'm using both), Black-American(the new "preferred" term for blacks(African-American is considered "confusing" nowadays) says my pal Coral, who lived in D.C. for many years and is quite active in politics), Asian, South Asian, White, Young, Old, Very Old, Suburban, Intown, Gay, Lesbian, Bi, Straight.It was quite a party, filling up the entire back parking lot, as camera crews buzzed about, and folks began congratulations, long before the announcement would be made. We were enjoying it for a little over an hour, but hunger took over(Manuel's has great food, but there were NO tables left!!), as did my lack of tolerance for beer being spilled on my pretty shoes(by customers,not the staff!). So at approximately 11:00 P.M., we walked to "The Majestic" diner(if you're ever in Atlanta, it's still the most "authentic" diner food, though they've added "healthy" selections to the menu). Danny and I had a nice chat, and he had an omelette, as I chowed down on pancakes.
As we stepped out, it was obvious something had happened. Eerily quiet at first.
I noticed a voice-mail from my dear friend, Coral, on my cell. I played the message and heard only three words:"WE DID IT", and I could hear screaming in the background.
We switched on the car-radio to hear the news. And I called her back and we spoke a few moments, and I'm sure we were both in tears(I know I was--tears of joy!).
At first, I was upset at not having "witnessed" what I'd come to Manuel's for. I was even considering returning(Danny M.'s suggestion), but it struck me that I had seen what I needed to--I'd seen confirmation of what we've all been feeling these past 20 months. This longing for change was not hyperbole, it was real--IS real, and I felt redeemed in seeing it, via all those faces at Manuel's:
The children in tow, pasted with proud parents' "I VOTED" stickers; the fellows on motorcycles, looking rather like "roughnecks"(mullet-hair, scruffy beards, ripped t-shirts), but behaving like the inclusive, loving people they actually are, doing Obama fist-bumps, toasting to the inevitable victory; two blond girls, no older than 22, diligently studying their red/blue homemade maps, and matching their figures to what was onscreen. One of them commented to me,"Once he wins California, it's[the election] his..."; the ubiquitous "Sarah Palin" lookalikes dotted throughout the pub, who brought forth peals of laughter from all of us who see that caricature of a human being for what she is; the white-haired older gentlemen showing a nephew around, exclaiming, "Yep, this is where we come, son....".
These people made me feel pride in our strength, in our sense of humor, in our sense of ourselves.
I am physically sore, because of all the fist-pumping and "Obama-bumping" I did, dangling my arm outside Danny M.'s vintage Trans Am's car-window. I yelled "Obama, Obama", until I became hoarse. The returned chants of "Obama, Obama" began to sound like a ballad of sorts, or maybe an anthem.
When I arrived back here in the sleepy suburb of Alpharetta, lights were on in only a few homes. I decided to have Danny snap an "After" photo of my Obama sign and me, to contrast with the ones he snapped a couple of weeks ago. In this one(you'll see it at the end of this post), you'll see a very authentically happy Lisa.
I think President-Elect Barack Obama has proven what he set out to prove: that we can do it. We can be the kind of country where everything is possible, for all of us.
Yes, we can!
Peace, kids.
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