I was born into a military family, which meant that I relocated frequently from state to state and around the world. I attended nine schools before graduating from high school.
Encountering all these new cultures in the United Kingdom, the Philippine Islands, and the American South gave me a deep interest in human beings. Why do we behave the way we do? What makes people kind or cruel? Why are some of us poor, and some rich? And why are we fools in love?
I sought answers to these questions first in the pages of books. I plowed through hundreds of novels, learning, feeling, and admiring the work of great authors. I memorized poetry and wrote my own.
Abruptly transplanted to a small southern town as a lonely teenager, I discovered theater. I was bowled over by the communal nature of live drama and its power to connect us in one physical place where we all gather together. My aching heart found hope in this art form that we could know each other and be known, and through better understanding, promote more love and peace. I had seen enough even then to know how much human beings needed more connection.
Though I have learned so much since then, both in my artistic training and personally, my deepest creative beliefs are unchanged. Life may teach us that people can be cruel, but art teaches us how to rise above it. Art can show us the way to wisdom, and help us accept and embrace one another. And in this time of increasing loneliness and digital isolation, there is no more powerful way to reach out than with live, physical presence. The community created by every theatrical event reminds us that our small human lives still matter, that this hour we’re living in matters, and that our words and our fragile bodies matter.