A Most Brilliant Day!

What a fantastic day, Ms J! I took the whole day off work to do the play, so I allowed myself the luxury of sleeping later. The alarm sounded at 4:15, but I hit the snooze button twice and hugged my pillow until after 4:30. It was, as Scout would say, "sweet."

I rode the train downtown to the Metro Toronto Convention Centre, a HUGE building near our main train station. The building was designed to be a place to hold corporate meetings and large conventions. This morning, dozens of buses arrived bringing more than 1600 employees of Toronto Hydro. Apparently, they were expecting a series of long, boring speeches given by both union and management to outline a new policy against harrassment in the work place. Instead, they were treated to some very cleverly done live theatre.

(Um, ... That'd be me, Ms J. Dale Pringle. Actor par excellence!)

There were five of us in the cast: three men and two women. I was the least experienced in the group. The others were all professional actors. At first, I was a bit intimidated, especially by Roger. Roger has boundless energy, a keen wit, and enough self-confidence for five people. Luciano ("Call me Looch") was the other male. He not only acted, but also wrote both plays. Looch was very nice to me. Very supportive. So were the women, Debra and Heather. At first, I struggled with feelings of inferiority, but in the end, I discovered I can hold my own against these seasoned pros. I missed a few lines, but so did the pros. I was nervous before the show, but they were too. Roger, of course, oozed confidence throughout the entire process. But I admit, Ms J, the man's good. He was clearly the audience favourite.

There were two plays. The first was an office scene depicting sexual harrassment via e-mail images and suggestive messages. My character was implicated, but not guilty. He did, however, send a pornographic image to his wife, Nancy who works in a different department. I offer an embarrassed confession.

"Me and Nancy, we ... She's probably already ... I knew she wouldn't ..."

The second piece had more substance, I think. I was Phil, the principle character. Phil was recently transfered from "Coastal Hydro" to a different yard and was faced with not only being the "newbie", but was also forced to endure rejection and abuse by other yard employees.

"I always knew you Coastal guys were a buncha fuckin' faggots."

Phil is shocked by their behaviour. Hurt. And angry. His supervisor doesn't care. His union steward offers no help. Phil is left with a conundrum: either sort it out himself, or quit the company where he's worked for twenty-two years. He screams in frustration at his supervisor: "Yeah? Well, if you want me to deal with it myself, somebody's gonna get their fuckin' head smashed in!"

The audience was comprised of office workers and storage yard employees. Men and women. All were surprised by the language. A few were shocked. I spoke with many of them after the show, and they told me they were really impressed with the authenticity. The set. The costumes and situations. The dialogue. They loved us! And Toronto Hydro (our local electricity provider) was more than satisfied with our presentation.

"It was really well done," the CEO told me afterward, pumping my arm. "You really got the message across and showed how damaging harrassment and abuse can be. Thank you so much."

I am proud of what I did today. I believe strongly in the anti-harrassment message we delivered. And I came away with a clearer understanding of the way careless remarks can hurt. I received a year's worth of acting experience in less than a week. I learned a lot from the pros. I have a cheque for a thousand dollars.

I spoke privately with Simon, the director.

"I think I've been paid too much, Simon," I suggested. "You told me I'd get six fifty."

"Well it worked out to seven hundred," he told me. "The extra three hundred was because it was video taped. Toronto Hydro plans to use the video for in house training. Could be you'll become a celebrity among Hydro employees."

Then he smiled and hugged my shoulder.

"Good job, Dale. I'm really pleased with what you brought to this production."

Imagine it, Ms Journal. Me. A paid actor! I was absolutely glowing as I walked along Front St. in the afternoon sunshine. But the day wasn't over yet. There were more wonderful surprises in store for me.

As I crossed University Avenue, I spied a beggar sitting on the sidewalk. He held a dirty baseball cap out in hopes of receiving alms. The cap was empty. I reached in my pocket but I had no coins to offer. There was only a fiver, so I pulled it out and placed it in his filthy hat.

"Good luck, friend," I said as I walked away.

I hope he used the money to buy some food. He was dreadfully thin. But he'll most likely buy drugs or wine. I'm sure he'll do what he thinks he must in order to feel better, poor bastard. I looked up to see the bright sun glinting off the mirrored glass on the downtown bank towers. There's enough money in this town to build elegant skyscrapers, I thought, but not enough to help a beggar get back on his feet. Why must so much wealth belong to so few people?

I entered Union Station and passed through the Grand Hall on the departure level. I always marvel at the magnificent vaulted ceiling and grand space there in the place built in the time of steam trains and Model "T" Fords. It was officially opened by HRH King Edward, Prince of Wales in 1927. Union Station is Canada's busiest train station serving 130,000 commuter train passengers and 30,000 bus passengers every business day. I began to descend the stairs to the commuter concourse.

On the third step, something caught my eye. I glanced down and froze. There was money on the step. A lot of money. Folding money. Folded. I bent and scooped it up and came face to face with Sir Robert Borden.


One Hundred Dollars!

Four Sir Robert Bordens. Four one hundred dollar bills, Ms J. Four hundred dollars! On the stairs at Union Station.

I looked around. Who could have dropped this, I wondered? Would they return here to look for it? Maybe it was all the money they had in the world. Maybe this would be a terrible loss for someone. What was I to do? After pondering my options for five minutes or so, I decided to pocket the money. But I knew it was not mine. The Universe had given me four hundred dollars. I knew I could not, in good conscience, keep it. But to whom should it go?

I fingered the crisp, new paper in my pocket as I rode the GO train back to Mimico. For a moment, I wished I'd left it where it was. But someone else would have found it, I reasoned. And simply kept it. I couldn't do that. It would nearly pay for our Father/Daughter Conference this weekend. But I couldn't spend that money. It wasn't mine. Maybe it was counterfeit. I vowed to take it to the bank to have them check its authenticity. A part of me hoped it was phony. Then there'd be no dilemma, would there?

The girl at the bank checked each bill with a black light and one by one, she declared them legal tender.

"I can't keep it," I told her. "I found this money at Union Station this aft'."

She looked confused.

"Union Station? Why can't you keep it?"

She had really pretty eyes. Brown. And shiny black hair.

"It's not mine, is it?" I told her.

She still didn't get it.

"Yeah, but 'Finders keepers' ...," she said and smiled.

But I had made up my mind.

"No. The Universe has given me this money," I said. "It's not mine. I have to give it back."

She was bewildered, I think.

"To who?"

I shook my head.

"I dunno. Someone who needs it, I guess. Someone who needs it worse than you or I. Any suggestions?"


Easy come. Easy go.

When you come across something good, the best thing to do is give it away. That way the good spreads out. There's no telling how far it'll go.

Tomorrow afternoon, Meagan and I will drive to Teen Ranch to begin our weekend together. Friday is father/daughter "date night." Gosh I love my Life! Have a good weekend, Ms J. See you Monday.

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