Mr. Philately has a cold. The door knob fell off the Paroo house. The July 4th bunting fell off the wall because the hook did not hold. Middle schoolers cannot seem to grasp the principle of last in, first out. But Mr. Philately is happy as a clam. He loves playing around.

Last night was dress rehearsal for the middle school production of Music Man. I have no children in the play. Kat is in high school and Day-Hay is only in 6th grade and you must be in 7th grade to be in the school musical. But Mr. Philately is in the play although, if he is doing his job correctly, you never see him. He�s the man in black directing the stage crew backstage.

Last year, he was very involved with the play. This year, he has been living the play. This play has more sets, more elaborate settings, more props, and more problems. He and the other stage crew dad, Mr. K., had to re-make the wings because the stage wings had disappeared. I did my part. I made an emergency run for eleven yards of black felt, all in one piece. I had to. It was the only way I was going to connect with the man all week.

By rights, he should be exhausted. If he�d stop for ten minutes, I think he�d discover he is exhausted. Last night, the play�s director asked him if he had a life. He does. For now, the stage is his life. Sometimes I wonder if, like the kids, he does it so he can get to wear a headset.

And then I listen to him talk. I hear about his delight that the props mistress, the head of the stage crew, and a third kid whose official title I forget, have divided up and assigned the jobs and are making things run with only a little troubleshooting from him. I hear the excitement in his voice when he explains that his props mistress kept running around feeling panicky and he reassured her that �it will be okay� only to have her return the favor as he shook his head when the door knob fell off the house on stage and Mama Paroo had to step around the outside of the house to get to her own porch.

He has compared the play as the closest he will ever get to school again. For some people, school is an unpleasant memory. For him, school was always a place of success. It was the place you learned interesting skills and were social because, even though you are a bit of a loner, there were always people around. It was the place where you worked and worked and worked and then, in relatively short order, you took the final and watched the work pay off.

Today�s performance will be more than okay. I expect it will be terrific. I just don�t know what I�ll do to keep the man busy next week.

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