Stoppard's RockNRoll and 1968

New York

1968.
It was an important year in the history of America. It was an important year for the history of ( the then ) Czechoslovakia.
It was my senior year in college at a small, Roman Catholic women's college in Winona, Minnesota.

And, last night, on my 60 -something birthday ( here's a hint: after today, I qualify for a discount on Amtrak ), there was an intersection between those events--on stage--and, literally, on the street.


I love Tom Stoppard. Ponderous, complex, sometimes esoteric,his plays are always a challenge. The Czech-born, British bred playwright, ( who is rounding his 70th birthday, by the way ), is credited with Rosencranz and Gilderstein, Arcadia, The Invention of Love, and last year's, The Coast of Utopia. But often, after seeing a Stoppard play, I have to go to the local drama bookshop and buy the script. The material is just too dense to absorb in one sitting. And, I have to admit, there is a little too much Shaw ( or Chekov )in his style for my liking--not the topics or the conventions. But Stoppard's characters talk...and talk....and....talk.

So, imagine my surprise last night, on my birthday, when I settled in front and center ( a birthday gift to myself ) at RockNRoll, Stoppard's latest Broadway play scheduled to close on March 9. The first image---1968---appeared, the huge numbers wavey on a transparent curtain; Bob Dylan's gravel voice blarred through the sound system. Now that got my attention. This is MY generation, MY music. Can this be Stoppard?

The play that followed did not disappoint. The plot plays off the effect of rock and roll on culture--as it follows the Czech struggle for democracy throughout the 70s and 80s. The lead goes to Jon, an avowed socialist Czech student studying at Cambridge, who leaves a promising future in academia to return to Prague in 1968 to help his country as the Russian tanks rolled in to quell the roots of a revolution to overthrow Communism. Oh, and Jon LOVES rock and roll--The Stones, Grateful Dead, Dylan, Pink Floyd--so much so that he takes his vinyl collection back to Prague with him.

The counterpoint character, Max, is Jon's crusty professor and Jon's mentor at Cambridge, is an obsessive Communist even though he argues: " I only believe one tenth of the ideology today--but that one tenth is enough for me."

There are subtexts, of course, raising metaphysical questions and rounding out the play with Plutarch's poetry, and the concept of consciousness. There are even illusions to Pan, apparently an homage to Syd Barrett, genius writer for Pink Floyd.

It's funny. It's poignant. Worthy of the standing ovation the cast received. They seemed slow to leave the stage last night, perhaps knowing that they have only two shows left. And this is theater with a big T which must be appreciated by the soon-to-part cast.

After the play, my friend and I decided to have a nightcap in the closest bar we could find to get out of the horribly cold wind.
We literally ran into a little Greek restaurant on 46th and Broadway that looked quiet, and, of course, it had a bar.

Here comes the kicker. Sitting on the edge of the small bar, sipping an absolutely enormous martini ( the bartender found out it was my birthday ), a 50ish woman approached me. "I don't want to intrude, but I really like your jacket. My daughter-in-law was just telling me that that mix of teal and cocoa, was very in."

The conversation continued. Turns out, the stranger, Denise, was born and raised in.....Winona, Minnesota. She and her husband are in New York to visit their MBA candidate son, and enjoying New York theater. They invited us to their table, where we compared notes about my classmates, who graduated from the College of Saint Teresa in 1968 with me, who Denise and her husband knew. About 10% of my classmates were day students, also born and raised in Winona--and they remembered the family names as I racked my memory to put names with the faces from a long ago Teresan yearbook.

Now, what's the likelihood of all this coincidence?

It could be that I'm just getting so old that all those degrees of separation theorized to exist between human beings has been reduced.

Or mabye it's a reminder that when you get out of your room, out of your comfort zone, give possibilities a chance, that all manner of intersections happen. And that's a pretty significant birthday gift, a spiritual message that is not lost on me. It just seems my life continues to be about living "out there" to affirm what insists ( often against my will ) on emerging interiorly.

And, so I say, Rock On.
( Sorry, I couldn't resist. )

M.C.