On Closing Day

(AKA, How to Say Goodbye to Your Show... For Now.)

(photo by Lou Schneider)

We closed our musical on Sunday (May 17, 2026).

I was never much for goodbyes when it came to shows I was in or shows I’ve written. I don’t know if it’s because I’m not sentimental, or because I’m always looking forward, or just because I’m a heartless bastard. (Maybe all three?)

But this one “hit different” as the kids say and I don’t know why.

Maybe because it was the first MUSICAL I’d ever co-written. Maybe because it felt new and different that way.

Maybe because this was a story my wife wanted to tell for over 20 years, and we’ve been thinking about it for 10 and actually writing it for the last 5 years.

Maybe because this one felt so collaborative. Working alongside my wife who was the co-book writer. She was also the DIRECTOR of this first production. And working with our brilliant composer/lyricist Christian Douglas. And our choreographer, Esther Winter. Working with the Artistic Director of JCC CenterStage Ralph Meranto who gave one of the best notes during tech ever (and others throughout — not all Artistic Director give good notes!). Plus all the incredible designers, the Music Director, musicians, stage crew.

And the cast.

This cast was special.

Many were on the younger side because that’s what the story calls for, so we had four current college students and two recent college grads along with five adults. It felt like a real family. Everyone was so nice and ready to try anything.

And we threw a LOT at them. Changes throughout and even DURING the run which is unheard of… but this was technically a “workshop” production and that was the deal going in. And it was so helpful to us. We learned in real time what worked… and we could and did make changes throughout. Up to a point! I mean, we were not throwing full scenes and songs at them… but we cut small scenes, added an intermission, added and changed several lines throughout, trimmed a song and added a reprise. There might be more changes I can’t remember off-hand.

But the thing I will ALWAYS remember, is how ready to try anything this cast was. And how happy they seemed to be all the time. Like they were just psyched be doing a musical… a NEW musical… and helping us figure it out.

I should mention… these were all non-equity actors working in a non-equity theatre.

And maybe THAT’S what was different.

This was a job, don’t get me wrong, we all got paid. But it didn’t feel like people were doing BECAUSE it was their job. It felt like everyone was there because they LOVED doing theatre. They had the joy we all had once (maybe still do, but harder to remember to access it all the time). That joy that made us all want to do this weird thing where we sit in a dark theatre and play pretend in front of strangers.

I think we found that joy again.

And this is not to say this process was not without challenges. Putting on a musical is hard, grueling work. It fries your brain. It makes you question your talent and taste at every turn. But even through all that, the fact that everyone involved was so nice and happy to be there and kind to each other… (at a time when kindness and empathy are lacking worldwide)… that felt rare and special.

And maybe that’s why this one felt hard to say goodbye to.

Also, there’s the tiny voice in the back of my mind that says, “Maybe this was it. Maybe this musical will never be staged again. Maybe no one else will want to do it. Maybe I will move on to other things. Maybe this was lightning in a bottle.”

With other plays I’ve worked on, I knew they would have a life or not pretty soon after seeing it staged for the first time. Sometimes it just works and you know others will agree.

This musical seemed to work beautifully! The audiences went nuts every night. The word of mouth was spectacular. It felt like it’s working…

And yet.

Getting a musical produced is (seems? since I don’t know for sure) so much harder than getting a play produced. I just don’t know what the future holds for this magical, beautiful show we created. I think the world will love as much as we did, as much as the folks in Rochester did. But you never know.

And that’s the feeling I have this week.

Maybe it’s just normal, postpartum feelings. Which I’ve never really had before, so it all feels new. Maybe it feels hard because I know what it will take to travel the long road ahead. The changes we need to make, the next steps, the grind. It seems impossible.

But we did it once. We can do it again.

And I hope we get to do it again.

Man, I really hope we get to do this one again and again and again.

Because it feels special. And magical.

I saw the audiences in the lobby after. Most didn’t know who I was, so their reactions were raw and real. People of all ages with happy tears on their face. This show gives people hope. It talks about kindness and empathy. And it does that in song!! With gorgeous melodies and lyrics! (I can say that because I didn’t write that part!!)

So maybe this feels different because it IS different. This one was really special. And it’s okay to miss it. But I’m trying to tell myself it’s not goodbye.

It’s… until next time.

Thanks for reading. And Happy Writing!