BETWEEN THE LINES: 'Reports of my death are greatly exaggerated'

One of the best things about reviewing theatre in Nashville is renewing old friendships and running into people you haven't seen in ages. Case in point: On opening night for Tennessee Repertory Theatre's Steel Magnolias a few weeks ago, I reconnected with a number of longtime friends I hadn't seen for a while, basking in renewed affections and reflecting upon all that's happened in our lives since last we met-and that was just in the lobby of TPAC's Andrew Johnson Theatre.

As I entered the theatre itself to find my seat, I came face-to-face for the first time in lord knows how long with Reba Perkins, one of my favorite Nashville actresses, who now works part-time as an usher for TPAC. Reba's genuinely heartfelt response to seeing me was heartwarming and reassuring. Instantly, my mind went back to the first time I had the opportunity to review Reba's onstage work, in the Circle Players production of August Wilson's The Piano Lesson. She gave a wonderfully nuanced performance that garnered rave reviews all around and resulted in her being nominated for a First Night Award that season.

Subsequently, I saw Reba frequently, both onstage and off, but truth be told, I can't remember the last time I saw her before our Steel Magnolias reunion. And her obvious delight in seeing me again made me feel all warm and mushy and, I must admit, sentimental and nostalgic-just the way a reunion should make you feel.

At intermission, I again reconnected with some old friends, sharing war stories and repeating tales of past transgressions and the like. When I went back into the theatre to reclaim my seat for Act Two, Reba once again greeted me warmly and reiterated how glad she was to see me again. "But," she said, "I should probably tell you why I was so excited when you walked in..."

"Oh, do tell," I urged her.

"I was talking to Stella Reed a few weeks ago and I mentioned how much I missed you and wondered how you were doing," Reba explained. "We talked about how much we both miss the First Night Awards and what a great job you did with it and how everyone loved coming there every year and how much we all loved your reviews."
Of course, I was fairly beaming and feeling all wistful and maybe even a little weepy as we shared this tender moment.

Reba continued: "And then Stella said, 'Well, you know Jeff is dead. He died several years ago...that's why you haven't seen him.'"

Yep, that's what she said: Stella Reed (another fine actress whom I've always adored and admired) thinks I'm dead, which is the first I've heard about it. There are people in Nashville who actually think I've bought The Farm, kicked the bucket and am now pushing up daisies (I do love me some Kristin Chenoweth, but please...). It's kind of funny, when you think of it, especially since I'm not dead. I guess it's funny...right? Funny ha-ha, not funny strange. Right?

In some respects, it does seem rather timely, what with this year's celebration of Mark Twain in Music City (see www.TwainandTwang.com for specifics). Get it? One of Twain's most-often repeated quotes is "The reports of my death are greatly exaggerated." I've never intended to purloin another writer's work, but that line certainly seems apt, don't you think?

Here's the deal: In 2002, I decided to take a break from theatre criticism and chose to direct several shows. Then I decided I should take a break from that and change careers completely. So, I did that, too. In July of this year, I started covering theatre again for this website. None of which means that I was dead-nor have I ever been, senator-or that I had moved to California, which some people, oddly enough, think is the worst thing that could have happened to me.

Thankfully, Reba told me she was sincerely happy to see me again, even more so when she realized I wasn't a ghost, a zombie or a vampire (although I know they're all the rage right now). Could someone please forward a link to this column to Stella Reed for me? I don't want the shock to be too much when she sees me sitting in her audience one night.

To post a comment, you must register and login.