NO COMMUNITY IS COMPLETE WITHOUT ITS OWN THEATER COMPANY. THERE'S NOTHING LIKE THE THRILL OF WATCHING LIVE THEATER, ESPECIALLY WHEN THE PEOPLE ON STAGE ARE YOUR OWN FRIENDS AND RELATIVES. I'M NOT DENYING IT TAKES A CERTAIN CALIBER OF PERSON TO MAKE A COMMUNITY THEATER WORK (CREATIVITY AND STRONG OPINIONS SEEM TO BE REQUIRED), BUT THE REST OF US GET TO BENEFIT FROM THEIR ARTISTIC OUTLET.

Nubbins is no exception. Our little theater group has been presenting plays in the upstairs auditorium/fellowship hall of the Nubbins United Methodist Church for almost fifty years, which is why someone had the bright idea to call them the Nubbins Upstairs Theater Troupe. Most of us just call them NUTTs, and we love them.

I've loved quite a few of them in my time, seeing as half my relatives have been NUTTs - both my brothers, one sister, several cousins, and most especially my Momma. Believe it or not, she was once the dame of the Nubbins little theater, performing in everything from "Bell, Book, and Candle" to "Driving Miss Daisy." I loved watching her on stage.

I, however, did not get the theater gene. I tried it once in my youth. I was in the chorus of "The Music Man" and had to speak one line by myself, a line that just about killed me. I fretted over that line for weeks, and when the time came for me to speak, my knees knocked, my palms sweated, and my tongue swelled up in my mouth like a wad of cotton. I managed to choke out the line, but after that I stuck to my preferred role as audience member.

One of my favorite things about watching live theater is seeing how the actors deal with the unexpected. I watched a performance of "Anne of Green Gables" once when the actress playing Anne reached into a cupboard for a bottle of cordial. Only the cordial wasn't there. After looking through the whole cupboard the actress said, "Oh dear, I guess the cordial's out back," and walked off the stage. Eventually she showed up again with the forgotten prop in hand, and the play went right on.

Another time my brother was playing a part in which he was holding a gun on another actor standing by some drapes. The actor reached for the gun but grabbed the drapes, accidentally pulling them down on his head. Without missing a beat, my brother said, "It's curtains for you," which of course the audience loved.

I thought I might keep up my role as audience member to the end of my days until an opportunity landed in my lap. Danny Lyons, who was directing "The Man Who Came to Dinner," called me out of the blue and asked if I would be willing to do a small part in the play.

"You'd be perfect as Mrs. Stanley, Ida Mae," he said. Obviously, someone had forgotten to tell him about my botched acting debut 40 years earlier.

"I don't think so, Danny," I told him. "I just don't have the acting gene."

But the more I thought about it, the more I realized I was thinking of myself as the same Ida Mae I was 40 years ago. But I no longer get nervous when I stand up in front of groups to talk, so maybe I could actually do this. An opportunity like this might never come along again, so I decide to try it. I called Danny back.

"I'm in," I said.

It was an exciting ride to be on the other side of the stage lights - the rehearsals, the costumes, the makeup, all those creative and strongly opinionated souls spending almost every evening together. And when opening night came along, I was nervous, but it wasn't debilitating. It was fun.

I did have one heart-stopping moment when the telephone on stage was supposed to ring and I answer it. But at one performance it didn't ring. I waited and waited for what seemed like an eternity. I felt my knees start to shake and my palms get damp, but no ring. Then inspiration hit. I simply turned and said to no one in particular "Was that the phone?" and walked over and picked it up.

By the time the play closed, I was exhausted and glad to return to normal life. But I kept running into people at church or the grocery store who said "I saw you in 'The Man Who Came to Dinner' - you were wonderful Ida Mae." That felt pretty good. And when they asked me, "Do you think you'll be in another one?" well - I didn't say no.

Maybe I'm wrong about that acting gene, or maybe it is possible to grow a new gene or two later in life. Or maybe I'm just a NUTT.

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