Take Ten II

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Take Ten II Page 15

by Eric Lane


  MOTHER Sandra Mills Scott

  CHARACTERS

  DAUGHTER: Indian and black, aged late teens to mid-twenties.

  FATHER: Native American, late fifties to mid-sixties.

  MOTHER: Black, late fifties to mid-sixties.

  NOTE: The reference in the script “boom, boom, boom boom!” should be spoken like the John Lee Hooker song “Boom, Boom!” The other reference, “Gonna shoot it right down,” also should be spoken/performed in the spirit of the song. Note that “sport high-heeled shoes” and “sporting high-heeled shoes” are references to Chuck Berry's song “Sweet Little Sixteen.” Please note also that the stage is bare. If there is a need for chairs or musical instruments that is fine, but no more than that.

  DAUGHTER: My hands / red / black

  Dance to Rhythms

  Different / Various / similar rhythms

  My Red Hand it dances to the

  Rhythm of my Father's Blood / His

  Blood Beat / His red

  Man beat

  PURE RED MAN

  FATHER: My father / his mother / Tlingit from Alaska /

  DAUGHTER: Died giving birth to him She died /

  But she still whispered to him /

  My father / his father

  FATHER: Santee Lakota

  DAUGHTER: My father half Tlingit

  Half Lakota dreamer

  FATHER: Transported

  Transported

  to Boston

  He / my Father crying for his

  Father / Drumming up the

  Rhythm of his Father Through

  Pent up Angers

  Wearing Eagle Feathers

  FATHER: Sign of the Eagle

  DAUGHTER: Sign of Scorpio—Nov. 4 /

  His birthday My Father /

  FATHER: Eagle Born

  DAUGHTER: Scorpion

  beat his

  hands to the rhythm of

  his Father's Ghost

  FATHER: His Father / My Grandfather

  Spent Depleted

  American Dreams / Stomped into the

  Dirt of the Res /

  DAUGHTER: His American

  Dream /

  FATHER: to pick up

  a Guitar

  To be a Blues Man

  To be a Red Man / Blues Man—

  DAUGHTER: My Father's Father / My Grandfather

  FATHER: Ghost danced Lakota Style

  DAUGHTER: to

  his father / my Great Grandfather's rhythm

  but he closed his eyes and also

  Ghost dances with

  FATHER: Robert Johnson /

  Mississippi John Hurt

  Blind Lemon Jefferson

  DAUGHTER: He / my Grandfather couldn't leave it /

  FATHER: The Res—

  DAUGHTER: They wouldn't let him leave it/

  The Res /

  FATHER: —” you're not True to

  your own”

  DAUGHTER: —they said

  FATHER: “you're not proud to

  be a red man”

  DAUGHTER: they said—

  FATHER: “If you leave / Don't come back/

  DAUGHTER: Don't come back

  to the Res” —they say

  He / my Grandfather Looked into my Father's Eagle eyes A Child's eyes / knowing eyes / an old child's eyes / His eyes—my Grandfather's eyes Said

  FATHER: “Take the world / make it yours / Rock the world You can Rock

  DAUGHTER: Rock

  FATHER: Rock

  FATHER/DAUGHTER: Rock the World”

  DAUGHTER: My Father Glides Eagle-eyed from the Res and the Tlingit island /

  FATHER: Leather-jacketed /Eagle

  eyed /

  DAUGHTER: Blues and Tlingit / Lakota riffs

  dripping from his fingers /

  FATHER: Chuck Berry/

  DAUGHTER: Tlingit riffs

  dripping from his fingers /

  Leather-jacketed and Guitar ready

  Just like Chuck Berry or

  FATHER: LinkWray

  DAUGHTER: —Link Wray

  FATHER: —a Shawnee

  from North Carolina

  DAUGHTER: —A RED / Blues

  Rock'n'Roll man /

  FATHER: —a cool man

  DAUGHTER: My Father cool—Just like Link Wray

  FATHER: Slick

  DAUGHTER: —Just like Link Wray

  Ghost dances Lakota Style / Tlingit Style

  and Rock 'n'Rolled / a Steady

  Rock 'n'Roll bop

  and Somebody on the Res says

  “How could you do that / Leave /

  us / How could you? /

  You're not proud of your own

  kind” / Somebody on the Res says /

  they say “wanna be a white

  boy? / Wait till they call you a FeatherHead” /

  Someone on the Res says

  My Father stares straight ahead

  Eagle-eyed /

  DAUGHTER: proud and

  Eagle-eyed Outside

  FATHER: —Standing Tall

  Inside—Rumbling

  The voices of the Res rumbled /

  inside of him but he continued to dance /

  FATHER: Ghost dance /

  DAUGHTER: The Res voices Got Louder /

  He continued to Blues dance /

  Blues / Red / Blues /John Lee

  Hooker dance / he had to

  take the voices and shoot them

  down / Vodka

  Tequila

  Bourbon

  Hide himself in a woman's Skirt / to kill the voices Vodka Tequila Bourbon

  Another woman's skirt / gonna shoot it right Down!

  My Black Hand—

  My Mother's hand / A Black Girl

  MOTHER: Girl from Virginia / my mother /

  a Sharecropper Black Girl from Virginia /

  Her mother / my Grandmother Lynched /

  MOTHER: it is Hard Time Virginia /

  DAUGHTER: no

  Different from Hard Time Mississippi

  MOTHER: “Don't walk anywhere

  except in Dark Town”

  DAUGHTER: they told my

  mother

  MOTHER: “Just stay in Dark Town”

  DAUGHTER: —they told

  my mother

  MOTHER: “Dark Town” was where the

  Dark people lived

  DAUGHTER: they

  weren't Black Then They were colored then

  and where they lived was

  “Dark Town”

  My Mother / Sharecropper Black Girl / Big

  Black Girl

  Knew about Trees

  MOTHER: Knew about the Bodies that hung from

  those trees

  DAUGHTER: and the people who wore billowing

  white sheets

  My mother's bare feet

  MOTHER: were blistered

  from Tar and Dirt Roads /

  DAUGHTER: Those feet Shifted themselves

  MOTHER: into high heels /

  DAUGHTER: She wanted to Chuck Berry Bop

  in her high heels / She wanted

  MOTHER: to “Sport high-heeled shoes”

  DAUGHTER: She wanted

  MOTHER: her hair slicked back

  pressed and curled /

  DAUGHTER: She wanted

  MOTHER: to Lip Balm

  her lips—” Ruby” Red Just Like

  The Ray Charles Song /

  DAUGHTER: She wanted

  MOTHER: to snap her fingers /

  Slick headed and curly sporting

  high-heeled Shoes to the

  rhythm of cities /

  DAUGHTER: She wanted to Enter a

  New Rhythm

  Explore

  MOTHER: —not just the

  Rhythm of Southern men

  Clinging to Mojo /

  MOTHER /

  DAUGHTER: She wanted a city

  DAUGHTER: She leaves Dark Town

  Slick / curly headed

  hig
h heels and fingers snapping and

  clicking /

  She goes to Boston /

  sporting high-heeled shoes

  FATHER /

  MOTHER: There are Dances /

  DAUGHTER: yes

  There are Dances

  People will always Dance

  My Father sees her /

  He sees her at a dance /

  His Eagle eyes / connect to her

  Brown / Black Girl Eyes

  FATHER: Eagle-eyed RED man /

  MOTHER: red-lipped high-heeled Black Girl

  DAUGHTER: The Hucklebuck Dance

  meets The Ghost Dance

  And the Colored People / Before

  They were Black / The

  Colored people said

  MOTHER: —” Whachoo doin'

  with him / Some Red Man /

  What do you want with him /

  Some Red Man / That FeatherHead

  dancer /whachoo doin'

  with him”

  DAUGHTER: And the Skins on the Res

  said

  FATHER: —” You didn't get

  an Indian Girl / one of our

  Girls / Got a Dark /

  Darker / NIGGER Girl / not

  a Girl from the Res /

  What are you doing with her /

  Why didn't you Get a Girl

  From the Res! /

  Come back to the Res!” /

  DAUGHTER: They—my Father

  my Mother

  They both hear the voices /

  FATHER: Voices from the Res /

  DAUGHTER: The Tlingit Voice that whispers in his ear

  MOTHER: Voices from the Virginia Fields

  DAUGHTER: They—both—my Mother and Father

  try to Ghost Dance / Blues Dance

  Drink away the

  Voices

  FATHER: —Western / Northern Red voices /

  MOTHER: Southern Black voices

  DAUGHTER: They dance

  Snap their fingers

  Guitar Lick / try to Shoot

  it on Down

  FATHER: Vodka

  MOTHER: Tequila

  DAUGHTER: Bourbon

  They try to shoot the voices down /

  FATHER: Boom

  DAUGHTER: Boom

  MOTHER: Boom

  DAUGHTER: Boom /

  Shoot them all Down—

  A year later—they marry—

  A year after that

  Icrash through amniotic Fluid

  and blood /

  I crash but

  silently my mother says

  MOTHER: —” She's so quiet” /

  DAUGHTER: my Mother says

  FATHER: —” Makes no noise”

  DAUGHTER: my Father says

  I hear his voice but rarely—him / he usually

  Speaks through guitar fingers / his fingers speak

  on his guitar I see him /

  longhaired / this man / red man who just spoke /

  my father—this red man

  this big red man / beautiful man

  I am a part of him

  My Father

  I hear him

  But

  I can't speak

  But I can hear

  I can't explain / I'm a baby

  But I feel it

  I feel them

  Turning on themselves

  Turning on each other

  not always with words

  There's looks

  MOTHER: shrugs

  FATHER: silence

  MOTHER /

  FATHER: more silence /

  DAUGHTER: I feel it /

  I feel them

  Shooting Themselves

  Down—

  FATHER: Boom

  MOTHER: Boom

  FATHER: Boom

  MOTHER: Boom

  DAUGHTER: Later I'm a child

  not a baby / a child

  I see it / smell it

  FATHER: Vodka

  MOTHER: Tequila

  DAUGHTER: Bourbon

  I hear it my Mother's

  Black Southern voice slurry / shot-down voice

  MOTHER: I love

  him / He's my husband /

  my man /I'm

  NEVER Gonna Leave / I love him!

  DAUGHTER: The Black Southern / voices /the

  voices are now Black from

  the Virginia Fields / The 1960s

  and the voices are now Black

  tell her / my Mother

  MOTHER: —” your child

  is a Nigger / FeatherHead / a Nigger Feather-

  Head” —

  DAUGHTER: My MOTHER / she Vodka

  MOTHER: Tequila

  DAUGHTER: Bourbon

  MOTHER /DAUGHTER: Cries

  DAUGHTER: I hear it in my

  Father's voice—more so

  in his fingers / Fingers

  sliding up and down his guitar

  Vodka

  Tequila

  Bourbon crying

  FATHER: Lakota / Tlingit guitar / Blues a shot-down

  Red

  Blues

  Bruised

  Man

  DAUGHTER: His voice thundered / sometimes

  there was thunder in his voice

  FATHER: “She's my wife / I love her /

  Never Gonna give her up /

  I love her!”

  DAUGHTER: I grow up—my body

  can make a

  child

  I Do not but I can—make a child

  A child / a life / can come through me

  can come crashing through amniotic

  Fluid and Blood /

  It can come silently

  It can come thunderously

  My Grandfather / Long Dead

  Ghost dances in the hills /

  His wife / my Grandmother

  calls me—” Dark Girl

  Monkey Girl

  animal / Dark / Monkey

  Girl! / The

  elders don't want you /

  WE don't want you!” She says /

  my Grandmother says

  My cousins on my mother's side /

  My Black hand side says—

  MOTHER: “You're Black / what's this

  Indian / no such thing as

  HALF BLACK!”

  DAUGHTER: They / my cousins / my Black hand

  mother side cousins say put

  down my Father's Tlingit walk / Ghost dance /

  put aside sweet guitar licks and

  the Red / Blues of my

  Grandfather / Put aside his slick / sleek

  Rock 'n'Roll res / Boston Bop /

  Put it Down /

  Shoot in on

  Down

  My Red hand / my Father's

  hand / His mother / my

  Grandmother / cousins

  Don't call my name

  I'm the “dark” / Monkey Girl /

  Don't have a name—

  An uncle / he calls my name /

  says my name /

  only him / my Father's Brother /

  my uncle / he says

  FATHER: “Drop the

  Black Blood / walk like a

  Skin / Drop the Dark / Darkey

  walk / You're a SKIN”

  DAUGHTER: How can I drop the

  walk of Southern Black

  Girls / the walk heated / hip

  walk of Southern high-heeled Black

  Girls

  MOTHER: (repeating) You're Black / no such thing as HALF

  BLACK

  FATHER: (repeating) Walk like a Skin

  DAUGHTER: I answer to the voices

  I answer to the voices in

  Dark Town /

  I answer to the voices in

  Black Town / The Town where

  Black people live

  I answer to the voices My Grandmother's Tlin-

  git voice

  That whispers in my ear

  I see / dance with my Grandfather /

 
We sing a Red man Blues

  I am Tlingit / Lakota and Blues

  I am an electric slider / Tlingit / Lakota Ghost

  Dancer

  I've got Red / Black hands

  I answer to all the voices

  I know that Blind Lemon Jefferson did the

  Ghost dance with Robert Johnson

  and Robert Johnson before

  selling his soul to the

  devil pulled out the

  Mojo and gave it to my

  Grandfather who kissed it

  and passed it on to my Father who

  passed it to me—I've got Red / Black hands

  Don't tell me not to Ghost

  dance on the Res

  Call for my ancestors

  on the Res /

  whisper Tlingit secrets to my Grandmother /

  dance / Link Wray style

  Down at the Res /

  I will rock the Res

  I've got

  FATHER: Red /

  MOTHER: Black

  DAUGHTER: hands

  Don't anybody expect me to

  Shoot it

  Shoot

  Shoot

  it

  on Down

  Night Visits

  Simon Fill

  Night Visits was first presented by Actors Theatre of Louisville, Kentucky, in January 2000. It was directed by Sullivan Canaday White; scenic design was by Tom Burch; lighting design was by Andrew Vance; costume design was by Jessica Waters; the dramaturg was Kelly Lea Miller; and the stage manager was Nichole A. Shuman. The cast was as follows:

  TOM Tom Johnson

  LIZ Samantha Desz

  EMILY Rachel Burttram

  CHARACTERS

  TOM A second-year resident in medicine, twenty-eight.

  LIZ: A nurse, twenty-seven.

  EMILYEMILY: Gentle, looks about twenty-three.

  TIME: The present.

  PLACE: An examination room in a hospital.

  (A hospital examination room. White. Patient gowns hang all over. We hear wind outside. TOM lies on the examining table, asleep. Twenty-eight. In a doctor ' s outfit. LIZ enters. Twenty-seven. Nurse ' s uniform. Quiet moment to herself, then notices the gowns and TOM.)

  TOM: (eyes closed) I' m not seeing patients anymore, Liz. (Quickly, lightly, sounding upbeat and energetic.) It's over. It's over. It's over. It's over. It's over. It's over. It's over. It's over. It's over. It's over. It's over. It's over. It's over. It's over. It's over. Do you have a problem with it being over? You better not. Is it not really over? I don' t think so.

  LIZ: Tom. One more. That's all.

  TOM: Seeing one patient in your thirty-fifth hour of being awake is the equivalent of seeing fifteen hundred in your first.

  LIZ: You can' t refuse to see patients. You're a resident.

  TOM: Shit. (He gets up.) You look … nice.

  LIZ: Got a date.

  TOM: Doctor?

  LIZ: No.

  TOM: Yes. Yes. YES! Good for you.

  LIZ: You are such a freak. (Looks out window.) Windy outside.

  TOM: It's a bad night.

  LIZ: I know. We all do.

  TOM … What? Oh. I' m … fine.

  LIZ We all loved Katie, Tom.

  TOM Yeah. Thanks. No, I mean it.

  LIZ She was a great nurse. I wish I'd known her more.

 

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