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It’s been several months since I last took off my top hat, but I still often reflect on my time as Mayor Shinn in Community On Stage’s production of The Music Man. It was one of my favourite theatre experiences, and personally, I think it was my best performance yet. More importantly, it gave me another chance to make cherished memories with my family, feel proud of their terrific work, and expand my theatre community.
It also left me with a few valuable lessons I can carry into theatre, creativity, and life. Here are seven things I learned while being the mayor of River City:
1. The real joy of theatre is watching loved ones grow and shine.
I’ll never forget Everett fully embodying Winthrop, Emily adding nuance and expressive facials to her performance, or Danika radiating with natural charisma. Beyond my own family, I loved seeing fellow performers refine their craft night after night. One of the great treasures in the arts is sharing passion with other creators who strive to make storytelling stronger together.
Jake Parr excelled as Marcellus in his stage debut, and Catherine Seifried Weddell nailed the humour and presence of Eulalie (my stage wife) in her first speaking role. Theatre is about creating something magical together — and the joy multiplies when you see everyone grow along the way.
2. Fulfillment often comes from taking BIG chances.
Before rehearsals, I watched several versions of The Music Man, and every portrayal of Shinn felt different from what I envisioned. To me, he was larger-than-life: performative, blustery, a carnival-barker type who loved to hear himself speak — but who also genuinely loved River City. I wanted him loud, physical, and over-the-top. But he also needed tender moments so his short redemptive turn at the end would land. He always had to believe he was the hero.
The night before rehearsing my first Shinn scene, doubt crept in: What if this is too much? What if I embarrass myself? But I went big anyway. The director loved my take, castmates told me they couldn’t picture anyone else in the role, and some even said Shinn was a highlight of the show. That never would have happened if I’d played it safe. It’s a moment I need to remember for future performances — and for all my creative work.
3. Supporting roles can be the most rewarding.
Mayor Shinn isn’t a lead role like Harold Hill or Marian, but he was one of my most substantial parts. He drove scenes, set the tone, and carried the entire finale. If I dropped the ball, the ending would have fallen flat.
Some of the most memorable characters in entertainment are supporting roles — Hannibal Lecter, Tommy DeVito, and Orin Scrivello. For me, theatre fulfillment comes from memorable, challenging, and fun characters, not necessarily leads. Shinn proved that for me. He’s the best role I’ve had so far, and it’s the kind of role I’ll keep chasing.
4. My inner critic is an idiot.
I poured my heart into Shinn, but that nasty voice inside constantly whispered: You’re missing the mark. You’re dragging everyone down. After every performance, I thought of what I could’ve done better. I believe there is something about always striving to improve on each past work, but that doesn't mean beating myself down on my current efforts.
But audiences laughed, applauded, and praised the role. My director often praised my finale. Clearly, my inner critic doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He should take up a new hobby instead of reviewing my work.
5. Theatre is a safe place.
I started The Music Man rehearsals while reconciling with my neurodivergence diagnosis — unmasking after 47 years of trying to be “normal.” I still felt awkward at times, but in the theatre community, I was accepted and supported. Incredible people like Jessey Morgan, John “Moji” Logo, and Liv McQueen made me feel safe to be myself.
I still have much to learn in this next phase of my life, but theatre gave me a place to begin that process with confidence.
6. My neurodivergence shines on stage.
In daily life, executive dysfunction, overwhelm, and time blindness trip me up. But in theatre? Everything clicks. I memorize lines quickly, track props without notes, don't need references to know my scenes, and thrive in the organized chaos of performances.
A dishwasher may defeat me, but on stage, I can handle surprises, adlib, and keep a scene on track. Theatre gives me the mix of routine and variety that both my autism and ADHD crave. It’s a space where my neurodivergence isn’t a hurdle, but instead, it’s a superpower.
7. I need opportunities to be silly and playful.
My happiest moments in life have come when silliness and imagination were required — from campfire skits to kids’ games to over-the-top theatre roles. Mayor Shinn reminded me that my awkwardness and oddness are actually strengths.
For too long, I tried to fit into what was expected of an adult. But I’m wired to thrive in play, goofiness, and creativity. That’s who I am. And life is far more joyful when I embrace it.
Final Bow
Playing Mayor Shinn was more than just a role. It was a reminder of the kind of theatre I love, the kind of person I am, and the kind of life I want to keep creating.
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