Reinventing Ellie

[tedwords]

 "And every one of us has to face that day, do you cross the bridge or do you fade away?" Elton John

One of the things that's been interesting as I've been directing my Elton show is the changing of the guard I am observing. 

I have been working with the Eldredge Players for more than twenty years now, so I've seen my share of changing faces, particularly during the lean pandemic years. In the past few years, however, I have particularly seen some of the stalwarts move into their seventies and start to have age-related issues.

I am far from that age, but a few years ago, I made the decision that we really needed a younger bench of directors, and decided that rather than stubbornly hang on to power, I would turn over the directing duties for our big yearly show to other folks (ironically enough, the person we have used the past two out of three years is actually a few years older than I am, but go figure). Part of it was work related, too. 

I actually haven't missed the stress one bit, but Tony, my long-time music director has missed it, I think (he should. He had a sweet deal and was really pampered.) 

It's worked out well. This past year we won a ton of awards for our work on the big show and I was able to travel to Paris during hell week. This upcoming year I have even more travel planned. 

The only reason I agreed to do this current show is that it's a musical revue. That will be easy and fun, I thought. Then I went about and cast seventy people in the show, made myself co-host and am singing four songs. Because, I guess, I don't like easy.

Anyway, it's not always easy for some to "cross that bridge," and in particular, those who are getting even older than 70. We have one lady who tried out for the Elton show, Ellie, who is in her nineties and has been with the group since the seventies. That's a long time, but she has been growing strong and even had a solo in last year's show!

But this year, life has been harder. At 93, she can't do everything anymore. Her doctor actually reported her to the Registry and both her and her husband lost driving privileges, making it harder for her to get to rehearsal. We've had folks in the cast who have been driving her home at night, which is super nice. 

This past week, though, right before a choreography rehearsal, Ellie came to over to me as I was preparing for the night. "How's it going, Elle?" I asked, absently shuffling through a few papers. 

"Oh, not great," she said. "I had some heart-related surgery this past weekend."

"You did?" I asked, raising an eyebrow and stopping everything. "Are you okay?" 

"Oh, I'm fine," she replied, looking down. "Just not feeling like the old Ellie anymore. Hoping that comes back."

Now mind you, this was right before we were doing two dance numbers that could be considered low impact aerobics. 

And as I watched her attempt the numbers with her cane, I started getting concerned. Later that night, at three in the morning, I woke up in a cold sweat, thinking more fully about the situation. What if Ellie fell during a performance at the theater? 

Fortunately, we had contact information for her granddaughter that my SM had wisely secured, so next morning right away I contacted her, expressing my concern about her involvement in that from a health perspective. I told her I didn't want anything to happen to someone I have known for so long and love and asked for more information about the surgery. I said I know she wants to be involved, and we of course want her to as well, but not if it could be harmful. 

Sure enough, my instincts were correct. We hadn't been getting the whole story. 

Her granddaughter contacted me right away, to tell me that their family was under the impression that the show was singing only and there was no choreographed dancing or movement involved. She said they are doing all that they can for Ellie to continue to do what she loves and to stay engaged, but she is not always the best judge of what her limitations are. And not only that, but she is considered a fall risk and actually had a fall on Saturday before the surgery. 

Ouch. I had no choice. Ellie should not be a part of the show. Her granddaughter said she would talk to her and explain this and I said I would follow up with Ellie in the morning, which I did. 

She was quite gracious about the whole thing. Ellie wrote back to thank me for my love and concern for her well-being and apologized for putting me in this position. She had hoped she could finish the show and announce it as her swan song; however, it is not to be. She said her sense of humor likens it to the athlete who does not know when it is time to hang up the cleats, and that it is so difficult trying to "re-invent Ellie." 

It really is. I have such sympathy for folks like Ellie who want to keep going, as long as they can. These fragile bodies we possess are so much weaker than the vibrant souls inside us.

At least for some things. I know that writing grows stronger with age, and I do hope that is the case. I think unlike taking the car keys away or even hanging up your dancing cleats, taking away the quill pen may take a bit longer. I am hoping to hold on to that one until my dying breath.