Yesterday, we went to go see Broadway Rose‘s production of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Cats. Broadway Rose does a great job scaling large, Broadway productions for their smaller stage. I saw their production of Les Miserables, and I was very impressed and enjoyed myself immensely. Their version of Cats was also quite good. Not flawless, but good enough to make it a great show.
This is the 3rd time I had seen Cats. The first was on Broadway and the second was in London. All 3 times, the portrayal of Grizabella, the frail, aged cat has given me pause. I saw the Broadway and London productions when I was about 16 years old. At the time, I was taking care of an frail, elderly woman named Gwenda. Gwenda had been a beautiful and talented actress in her heyday. The Gwenda I knew was a shadow of her former self. By the time I met her she had suffered two heart attacks and was struggling with emphysema. She was homebound and tethered to an oxygen tank.
One of my responsibilities was caring for her 4 cats. She had somehow managed to teach them all proper manners and they would sit at the table, each in front on his or her bowl, before I was allowed to feed them. They were so well behaved that they would go to their places as soon as they heard me open the drawer to get the can opener. At that time I had never had cats of my own, so I didn’t realize the magnitude of her accomplishment. Ten cats later, I still have no idea how she managed to get the cats to bow to her will.
I was not at all surprised when Cats brought back memories of Gwenda. But this time Grizabella’s story felt much more personal. In part, because I am aging and see the world very differently than I did when I was 16 (for which I am duly grateful). But mostly because this time the frail person I know, who is but a shadow of his former self, is my father.
My father was never glamorous or famous. Nor has he ever expressed to me a longing for the good old days. But I remember a time when he was young and active. And now I am watching him struggle as he tries to do the most mundane of daily tasks. It is painful to watch a man who used to be an active hiker and cyclist struggle to walk across the room to go to the bathroom.
Part of Grizabella’s story is that she is alone, having been abandoned by all those around her when she lost her beauty. Gwenda too, was alone. Which is the reason she needed me as a caretaker. My father sometime feels abandoned when he forgets that he has just seen his son and grandchildren a couple of days before. But, I know that my father has people in his life that love him. My mother is there for him, as is my brother who makes a point of seeing him weekly. And in a little more than a week. I will be there too.