Four years ago, I had just finished up a play at the Children’s Theatre of Charlotte, when the assistant director of my show, Jen Band, sent out an email wanting to have a big meeting at Freedom Park about a group she was interested in starting. The group would be called Playing For Others. The name was familiar; I recalled Jen talking to some of my castmates and I about her plan to launch a group by this name. Of course, we immediately showed our approval. I was very curious to get a deeper look into this group she’d been talking about. Plus, she has also invited a large number of my castmates from my show. Woohoo! Reunion!
Once everyone had arrived, our meeting began, and Jen explained the details of Playing For Others to us. We’re going to do a musical as a benefit for an organization in Charlotte that impacts children with disabilities. We’ll serve on committees, perform the show, send out partnership letters, and approach corporate sponsors. At that moment, I’m sure there were others who were thinking the very same thing I was: “This is so much bigger than I am. I don’t know if I can do it.” I’m only 14. What if I mess something up? What if I can’t live up to the commitment? I will admit I was very nervous about getting started in Playing For Others…but my friends around me seemed so excited and ready to get started. They were already talking about their audition for the benefit show, “You’re A Good Man, Charlie Brown.” I was worried, but everyone’s excitement, their support, their encouragement…contagious, to say the least. That day, I made one of the best decisions I have yet to make in this life: I’m staying. And I’ve stayed ever since.
Over four years, I’ve performed in 3 of PFO’s benefit shows, approached corporate sponsors, set up meetings, created and strengthened bonds with my friends, spend valuable time with the children we’ve buddied with, and allowed myself to be painted head-to-toe in my least favorite color. These things that once intimidated me are now things I consider to be just another day at work for PFO. They don’t bother me or scare me; in fact, I can’t get enough. If you had told me four years ago at that meeting that I’d be doing all of those things, I would have said, “Uh-huh, yeah right. And I’m an X-Man.”
I can’t imagine my life without PFO. This is an organization that never leaves you. You can be in it one year or four years, but it definitely sticks with you. I don’t think I’ll ever encounter another organization that initiates you into membership by painting you or warms you up early in the morning by cranking up the volume on the music player (kinda makes a person not want to graduate, ya know?). When this year is over, there will certainly be pieces of me left behind in PFO. Memories of my time in my past committees [Poster/Program, Ticket Sales, Historians, Set], memories of the amazing time I’d spend with my buddies [Avery, Hannah, Gabriel], the memories of how nervous I’d get when I’d approach corporate sponsors, and the memory of how hard my heart was pumping as I laid underneath a tarp right before I got coated in pink paint (blindfolded, if you please!). Anyone not in PFO would say, “Wow! That’s cool!”, and it is, but it’s more than that. Those things become a part of you. The things I’ve done, the people I’ve met, everything I’ve learned…nothing could ever replace that. Those things are something you can only fully realize if you’ve experienced it first-hand, as a member, which I’m proud and honored to have done.
In a way, I guess that does sort of make me an X-Man, huh? That’s kinda cool.
