The (ideal) human condition
Remember this post the other day, in which the lovely and incredibly helpful Shanda Clark, project coordinator for the Great Plains Theatre Conference, drives me to a television taping I’m unaware will star myself? In that post, I also mentioned that she picked me just after I’d gotten a promising report on my little boy, who had been briefly hospitalized with a truly upsetting autoimmune deficiency. I shared a little about that with her in the brief car ride.
The next morning when I opened the door, there was a package sitting there in the hallway on the floor. A white gift box tied with an attractive red ribbon bore a card from Shanda and the message, “Hi Lee, Just thinking of your family… and thought your boy would enjoy this when you arrive home. Shanda.” And inside were a rubber dinosaur, some playdoh, and a children’s art kit. I shared something about my son in passing, and she responded in this way for a little boy she’s never met, and for his father who, mere days before, had been a complete stranger. I was moved by this heartfelt gesture.
When I’ve been brought into retreats and conferences like this in the past and been well-treated, I’ve half-joked that “they treated me the way everyone should have to treat me.” This conference has gone one better: They’ve treated everyone the way we should all treat each other. The graciousness shown here has been nothing short of astounding. (Which, tomorrow when I’m not rushing off for final-evening cigars and drinks, will take me to the subject of playwright Doug Wright, perhaps the most gracious highly accomplished person anyone will ever meet.)