Tonight, I broke a leg. It didn't hurt at all.
It was opening night. It started out with a Victorian tea. My 'husband' James and I, Lucretia Mott moved from table to table mingling with guests and talking about our abolitionist activities. My sister tried to trick me up by asking me questions not in my time. I looked at James and said, "She speaks so strangely. Do you suppose she is afflicted?" I fretted because as a Quaker minister, I should have been a bit more adept at the 'thees', 'thous' and 'thys'. I kept forgetting. At our last table, I questioned a guest as to if he supported our cause. "Half and half." I turned to 'Frederick Douglass' and said, "Your life story is so inspiring. Perhaps the telling of it would persuade him to our cause." I think Frederick Douglass was ready to kick my ass, but he gave a very moving soliloquy and so the guest was persuaded. Fred swore to put him on our mailing list. This led to a very fiery and fine (and impromptu) speech from Lucretia to the effect of 'Can thou look upon the face of my dear friend, Mr. Douglass, and the face of any other white man, and see any less honor, dignity, or worth? We must all take up the cause of the abolitionist.'
The play went fine. No lines were lost. I am glad it's over. One last show tomorrow.
I'm sitting here in full stage makeup. I look like a Quaker tart. (Which sounds like a breakfast pastry.) Although it went well and no lines were lost, I'm glad that one show is down, and only one remains. I'll be glad when its done. And now that I've crossed this off of my list of things I've never done, I'll never have to do it again.
And I thank thee, God.