Still Beaming: On Saying Goodbye to The Music Man and Believing There’s More to Come

 

The post-show blues are real. After weeks of pouring my energy, imagination, and heart into The Music Man, it’s hard to sit still in the quiet that follows. The final curtain dropped, the costumes were returned, and the theatre space emptied out. 

And now? I’m left holding the echo of something magical. My time with Community on Stage was magic. From the very first rehearsal, I felt something rare: I was accepted, seen, and genuinely loved. It’s hard to describe what that means if you’ve never stood on a stage with a group of people who are all passionately building something together. But for me, someone who’s often felt out of place or “too much,” it felt like coming home. 

This cast is a beautiful, talented, funny, generous, and wildly creative group of humans who made every rehearsal a joy and every show an adventure. There was a shared language between us, not just in script and song, but in heart. And perhaps most meaningful of all was how quickly they embraced my entire family. Emily, Everett, and Danika were welcomed like they’d always been part of the troupe. 

And the way they shone? I’m still beaming. Everett, in particular, took to the stage as Winthrop like he’d been waiting his whole life for that moment. He already says he misses the show, and honestly, I don’t blame him. If you saw it, you know how incredible he was with his heart, his presence, that sweet lisp he mastered so well. I’ve never felt prouder. 

As for me, getting to play Mayor Shinn was an unexpected gift. It was a role that asked me to stretch, to be bold, loud, ridiculous, and commanding, especially in that chaotic final scene. It was a whirlwind of a part, and I loved every moment. I was deeply moved by the kind words from fellow castmates, directors, and audience members. Some told me I made the role my own. Others said they couldn’t imagine anyone else in it. Those are words I won’t forget because I’ve often struggled to believe I’m enough, especially in artistic spaces. 

To be trusted with a major part and then told I did it justice? That’s fuel for the soul. But while Mayor Shinn gave me a platform, it was the cast who pushed me to rise to the occasion. Their talent made me better. Their passion made me work harder. Their joy reminded me why I love theatre in the first place. I’ll miss the show. I’ll miss the laughter backstage, the whispered encouragement before an entrance, the shared nerves and triumphs. 

I’ll miss being Mayor Shinn. I’ll miss them. And now, with the spotlight dimmed and the stage quiet, I find myself wrestling with that familiar voice in my head, the one that always whispers, “That was it. Your big moment. You peaked. It’s all downhill from here.” It’s such a persistent little gremlin. And for years, I believed it. 

But lately? I’m starting to think that maybe that voice is lying. Maybe The Music Man wasn’t the final chapter of my theatre story. Maybe it was just the latest highlight in a still-growing reel. Maybe there is another great role in me. Another chance to connect, to create, to shine. 

And if not? If the next part I get is Pineapple #3, then you better believe I’ll be the most charismatic, hard-working Pineapple the stage has ever seen. Because the joy isn’t just in the spotlight, it’s in the work. It’s in the community. It’s in being part of something bigger than yourself. 

And I know this: I’m not done yet.