I flew cross country for a 15 minute self penned performance by Sassafrass of a journey through her life. I started off laughing and ended up crying.
At the opening of her piece, she was me, her insane mother. Thus, the guffaws. Every word she spoke originally fell from my uncensored and scattered brain. From the ridiculous, she progressed to the divine, which is herself. With bravery and honesty she portrayed her deepest dilemmas and wishes. She sat beside a pile of raw pork chops topped with the sign “Sex” and spoke of her fears and wonders about sex. She confessed to her dream of a daughter of her own, and closed singing the lullaby “Baby Mine” to her imaginary cherub. And this merely hints at the courageous, artful exposure of her humanity. Even the strangers in the audience were rapt.
Not for nothing, she looked gorgeous onstage. All curly hair, curves, and a hell of a beautiful face.
Jeanne, my mother, Sassy’s grandmother, pronounced, “She’s an actress.” As a classically trained, accomplished pianist, Jeanne oughta know art when she sees it.
As a high school junior, our child told us she knew she’d go much further in life than we have. I, for one, have chosen to take a teensy tiny bite out of life, though I chew it thoroughly. Clearly, Sassafrass has succeeded in achieving her goal, and she’s just getting started. We, her parents, joke that we’re proof that two wrongs made a right. But I think all the credit is all hers.
She is an artist.