gone, but not forgotten

We arrived in Evansville on a Sunday afternoon.  On the drive into town, we stopped by our alma mater, the University of Evansville.  The campus was so quiet.  It’s amazing that Sundays in the Midwest are still a day of rest, everything in “shut down” mode, relatively little traffic on the streets.  That’s why it was surprising that we found the theatre building unlocked; we went in and wandered around. 

Shanklin Theatre is a lovely thrust stage, which in the era in which it was built was very innovative.  The department chair at the time brought the idea for the design from the famed Guthrie Theatre in Minneapolis, one of the country’s most prestigious regional theatres.  Hung around the lobby are photos from past productions, including pictures of some of our most distinguished alums, Oscar and Emmy-winning actor Rami Malik and Emmy-nominated actor Ron Glass who was one of my husband’s contemporaries.  You can imagine my astonishment in finding that my photo still graced these same walls, almost fifty years after I appeared in the Shakespearian play “As You Like It”.  Golly, I looked young! 

A few days later we stayed a night in Columbia, Missouri where I had spent two months in 1973 doing summer theatre.  No photos of me hung on those lobby walls.  In one place I was gone, but not forgotten.  In another I was just gone.

We arrived back in Southern California last week in time to attend two memorial services for dear friends and coworkers.  Fresh from visiting the haunts of my past life in the theatre, and going through two emotional services, I started thinking about how we are remembered.  If we are remembered, what do we want to be remembered for?  

How would you like to be remembered? 

Love, Liz