Thanksgiving is a day to teach and be reminded that much of our human experience is determined by how we define "abundance" and tomorrow the boys and I will be unveiling our first Thanksgiving play, "The Baker and the Phoenix." It started out as a simple seedling of a story months ago, likely on a chaotic morning car ride when it was too cold for me to stick my head out the window and crank the radio to escape the fighting, potty-talking and horrific noise from the back seat. If you've ever spent time with a 6 or 7 year old, you know that they don't miss much. Every slight note of hypocrisy and unfairness is immediately pounced on and their powers of perception also extend to those around them; who has what, who is taller, faster, reads better, reads at all in my son's case, who gets to have video games, who gets more grapes, for Christ's sake..the list is endless. I may have planted the seed for this story, but I'm convinced that it's my son's observations of the world around him and his need to reconcile those observations with what is in his heart that quickly turned it into something much, much more. Of course, it will likely be carried out like an outtake from "Waiting for Guffman" but the intention is so there and I'm grateful for every moment we spent creating this story.
The Baker and the Phoenix
"The Baker and the Phoenix" is the story of an old baker woman who lives alone high in a remote mountain village. The village was once abundant with trees, animals and gardens but the greedy villagers sold the lumber and watched as it was carted away, counting their shiny new coins. Of course, the money was spent in no time and they were left with dry soil, no wood for cooking or shelter and little food. Despite her age and her few supplies the old baker woman continued to make small loaves of bread for the villagers each day. If they couldn't pay her she simply smiled, shook their hand and sent them on their way, assuring them they would someday pay her back.
The baker woman also had a gift with animals and was always nursing injured or sick animals back to health and feeding little ones who had been abandoned. (This is also how we ended up with a "shop mountain lion" named "Mookie" who I'm sure will tear down our entire set and eat the entire cast). One day she found a great bird deep in the forest and brought him back to her shop. She could see nothing wrong with him and despite all her efforts, he continued to sit in the corner of the shop, watching her with sad eyes as each day another of his shabby feathers fell to the ground. Although she was perplexed and frustrated by his failure to return to health, she kept on trying all she could think of, never giving up hope.
Finally, one day she realized that she had only a small handful of wheat left for bread and just a few splinters of wood left to start her morning fire. Her body ached and her bones creaked as she spent the early hours making as many small loaves as she possibly could from the few ingredients she had left. When the last loaf was handed out, the old baker woman had no choice but to turn away a family in desperate need of food. She boarded up her shop, realizing she now truly had nothing left to give. Then baker woman collapsed into her chair and cried, not for herself in her cold, dark shop, but for those she could no longer feed.
As her tears slowed, she looked up just in time to see the very last feather fall from the great bird (name TBD prior to curtain call). She wept once again for the bird, who was surely too sick to go on. The bird had been quietly watching her all this time and then, he bowed his head and a single tear fell from his eye. When the tear landed, it made a flash of golden smoke and there, before the baker's eyes, the flash turned into a stalk of wheat, growing from her dirt floor. Then suddenly, the bird raised his head and let out a piercing cry. A brilliant blue-green light started to swirl from the bird's claws, up his chest, then turning a blinding yellow and red above the crown of his head. When the light became so bright that the baker woman had to shield her eyes, there was a loud CRACK of thunder and the bird burst (but not in a gross way) into a million shards of light. The baker woman was in shock and jumped back to avoid being burnt by the sparks that had been sent all across her bakery. When the smoke faded, she ran to the spot where the bird had been and fell over the small pile of ashes. She held them in her hands and mourned the lost of this poor animal. She sat there all the rest of that day and deep into the night. When the very first light of dawn started to appear, the old baker realized that her shop was quite bright, and she was not cold at all. She stood on her fragile legs and turned. There, in her oven, burned a fire larger than any she could remember. A single spark from the bird lay in the bottom. She also noticed that the stalk of wheat had grown over night and she quickly got an idea. She worked as quickly as her old bones could carry her, pulling the wheat from the stalk, grinding it and making her dough.
When the villagers woke that morning they were greeted with the strong scent of fresh baked bread. They were sure they were only imagining it but walked towards the bakery anyway. When they arrived, the old baker woman hobbled over to her shop window and opened it to reveal dozens of loaves of bread, enough to feed everyone in the village. She worked all that day, feeling more alive and spry than she could ever remember. When she finally closed her shop window long after dinner, she sank down in her chair, her heart content. Then she remembered her friend, the dear, dear bird. She looked over to the corner where he had stayed for months, and she could hardly believe her eyes; there was a tiny hatchling in it's place. She quickly fed the bird and made it a small nest. Then, the tiny bird bowed it's head and began to quickly grow, sprouting brilliant green and blue feathers all over it's thin, gray body. When it finally stopped growing, it raised it's regal head to show a wonderful crown of golden feathers. The woman stepped back in awe and the great bird slowly spread it's enormous feathers to reveal wings so wide and full they stretched from one side of her shop to the other.
After that day, the villagers used the stalk of wheat to start a garden and there were soon saplings growing throughout the forest. Slowly, animals began to return to the forest and the villagers were once again happy and healthy. The great bird, the unnamed Phoenix (we'll call him Lee Majors for now) left the same day he returned to his true glorious state, but he could often be seen flying over the forest, checking in on the old woman who had cared for him so diligently. Every 7 or 8 years, Lee Majors would return to her shop, his feathers listless and tattered and the baker would care for him until he once again burst into ashes (still not ever in a gross way) and became reborn as a Phoenix.
*Snip-snap-snout, this tale's told out*
