The Grand Forks Summer Performing Arts Company, or “SPA,” means a lot of things to a lot of people. For me, it meant discovering my tastes in music, thinking deeply about fictional worlds and human psychology, and building lasting relationships with great people. (Most importantly, perhaps, it meant a chance to meet girls — one of the many wonderful, profound entities SPA connected me with as I grew up.)
But that’s just one story in thousands.
For others, SPA has been a welcoming place to learn about music, a creative outlet to unleash energy and, for some, it has even contributed to the beginnings of a new life.
I had no such grand expectations when my parents first signed me up for SPA when I was in kindergarten.
At the time, my complete understanding of music included the national anthem and the “Barney” theme song. You could say I was far from cultured.
Then, in middle school SPA, we sang a few choral arrangements, and there was plenty of butt-shaking and air-guitaring in our dances to keep me entertained, but I probably wouldn’t have said that I especially cared for music or drama. Even when I was old enough for high school SPA and joined the cast of my first real musical, “Oklahoma!,” I don’t think I knew why I loved SPA so much.
It wasn’t until my sophomore year that I realized what the “performing arts” can actually mean. (FYI, it’s way more than just singing and dancing). Pretending to be another person on stage wasn’t just fun for me, it opened my mind and affected the way I think in a very serious way.
This really hit home my senior year when Red River High School put on a little-known drama called “Back County Crimes.” Because of a mix-up with the publisher, we never received the supplementary music that was to be the foundation of the final scene. Basically, we were a week away from show time with no ending to our play.
With few options, our director Rich McFarlane asked me to write and perform an original monologue to end the show. To me, this seemed like a great opportunity. I had always loved creative writing, and Rich had read some of my work, so he decided to take a chance on me.
In “Back County Crimes,” I played an 80-year-old doctor with a southern accent and a big, white mustache — clearly someone I struggled to relate to. By this time, we had been rehearsing for a couple of months (I’d even tried on the mustache a few times), so I thought I had a pretty good handle on my “Doc Autry” character.
But when I had to put words in his mouth, everything changed.
I stared at the blank pages in front of me, suddenly confronted with the mystery of this fictional character, whom I thought I knew so well. To know how he would react to the things he faced in the story, I had to know how I would react to them. These were events like the loss of one’s spouse or one’s own death that tug at every belief you’ve ever dared to hold — things that a 17-year-old boy from North Dakota living my life may never have considered.
Writing that monologue was one of the most influential experiences I ever had in school — maybe the most significant I’ve had anywhere. I still read it from time to time, remembering the cosmic thoughts it triggered and how SPA experiences like this taught me to accept all forms of life and appreciate the mysteries they pose.
(Plus, that monologue was dang good, if I may say so myself.)
I was in 10th grade when I had to choose between continuing theatre and pursuing my other love, hockey. I’d played since I was very little, and I was captain of my Bantam team the previous year, so my decision to hang up my skates was not easy.
But looking back, it was definitely the right choice for me — for practical and personal reasons. My time spent doing theatre is the sole reason why I was accepted to the University of Southern California with a full scholarship to study film.
Every year, tons of SPA students receive similar scholarships from universities all across the country to study music, theater, film, sound editing, acting or similar fields. Every hour these kids put into rehearsal, memorization, piano lessons, warm-ups, set-building and stagetime is paid back in full when they’re given the opportunity to study what they’ve always loved at the collegiate level.
Still, SPA didn’t need to turn me into a music major to teach me the importance of a tolerant mind or to show me what’s it’s like to be a part of a community. After living in L.A. for one year, I’ve since decided to study English and Psychology at UND, where I’ll use every ounce of what I learned in high school theatre to find my way through this world.
I couldn’t tell you exactly who I was when I first joined SPA, but I sure like who it helped me become.
A quick shout-out to my SPA comrades: “Orc bros for life!”
Beaton has worked for Middle School SPA as a drama instructor for two summers. Call Beaton at (701)-780-1262, or send email to wbeaton@gfherald.com.
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