Originally published July 6, 2017
When I went to visit my friend Jack in May, he had just had surgery. Jack was 88 at the time, and had fallen out of his bed, gashing his arm and his nose; he was also showing other signs of mild confusion, and wasn't interested in eating. The doctor finally diagnosed an infection in his knee, so put him under general anesthesia to operate. Jack has had negative reactions to anesthesia in the past. He is confused for weeks afterward. This time was no different. He knew who I was, but was very tentative about speaking to me. So I blathered on for a few minutes about something, and finally, he tilted his head and said, "In my mind I just spent the past 8 hours at your house on Hunting Hollow Road, in the basement." We haven't lived there for 2 years, and we certainly wouldn't make Jack spend any length of time in that basement. "Well, Jack," I said, "You know that isn't true. We live in Tennessee now." "Oh, I know where you live now," he said. "But that isn't what my mind is telling me." "Well that's interesting, Jack, that you know you weren't there but you think you have just been there," I said to repeat the thought pattern aloud to him. "Oh yes," Jack said slyly, "My mind is a very fun place to be right now." He closed his eyes to laugh. We laughed together.
Right, in that moment, laughing together.
I first met Jack about 8 years ago. So in the span of his life, I haven't known him long. I met him long after he retired as a professor of theatre, after his wife died, and after his children grew up, moved away and had children of their own. I don't know who he was, but I know who he is to me. I have known him as a stern taskmaster of the theatre arts, a developer of community, a lover of souls, a seeker of Christ and a dedicated friend. Wherever Jack goes, theatre is sure to follow. Retirement has nothing on Jack Peyrouse. At St. Peter's Episcopal Church, where we met, he and Robyn Zimmerman started a chancel theatre program that in some years produced 3 major productions a year. In a church with about 400 members and more than 60 ministries, the theatre ministry, called St. Peter's Players, brought together children, teenagers, young adults and the elderly in a way that no other ministry did. It put people on stage who never would have been there, and launched several kids in to college as theatre majors. People joined St. Peter's (including me) because of the Players. Productions were performed at the front of the church, but the players, and the community that came to see those productions were always transported to River City or Austria or the Bronx in amazement. When Bob Bottoms, one of the Player's octogenarian regulars, died, his funeral was attended by almost as many kids as fellow octogenarians, because so many kids had been affected by Bob's participation in plays at St. Peter's over the years. It was noticeable, the affect Bob had on their lives, because Jack's ministry had put them together. When Jack moved to Rolling Green, an assisted living community, the first thing he did was establish a theatre troupe, which produced about 10 productions a year. Yes. 10. Grant it, at their age in that community, they were doing "reader's theatre" as minds can't remember things they used to, Jack would tell you, but the productions were as good and entertaining as any local production. He also worked with the troupe on theatre craft, and once staged a Christmas production about the persecution of Rudolph by Macy's that was mostly improvisation. I was amazed to find that out at the end of the show. It was funny, plotted, and continuous in its production. He had guest actors perform alongside him in serious psychological productions about Freud, C.S. Lewis and such. He even staged John Paul Sartre's No Exit at the retirement home. Can you imagine? They were performed in the dining room at the retirement home, but audiences there, too, were amazed at the work they knew they were privileged to see. I first experienced Jack at a meeting of the St. Peter's Players at his house. Jack, you see, has a stern side to his personality. He can be sharp. He can be brutal. He can be demanding. Most serious thespians are, and have little tolerance for those who aren't. And Jack sometimes has little tolerance. He demanded your best, and if you didn't give it, he let you know it. That kind of personality can be intimidating, and it was to many people in the room. I wasn't sure I was going to like being part of that group. But there was one man who didn't let Jack get away with that. I don't remember exactly what the banter was, but Jack would be sharp, and this younger man would counter him, crinkle his nose, squint his eyes and laugh at Jack. And Jack would laugh back. They were funny together. Noticeably so. After the meeting, I asked Robyn who that funny man was that gave Jack such a hard time. "Oh, that's Mike Cannon," she said. "He's a really nice man. You should get to know him." Little did I know that at the time Michael was living with Jack because his marriage had ended and he was trying to figure out how to live a new life. Jack provided him refuge while Michael figured that out. I know Michael will forever be grateful. The next summer Jack attended a fundraiser that the YWCA was having at Cafe and then Some, a local parody theatre group famous for its irreverent humor. I was working at the YW at the time, advocating for women. Theatre is theatre, and Jack is supportive; he knew I supported St. Peter's Players, and so he came to support me and my endeavors. Jack saw me from his seat in the balcony, standing alone downstairs. He came downstairs and invited me to sit with him, and Mike Cannon, who came to support Jack, who came to support me. I sat next to Michael, who at intermission vomited this horrible tale of divorce and betrayal and suffering children, after which he promptly ran out the door to meet the next need of a child texting him insistently. Jack and I remained for the second half, processing quietly that poor man's story. So Jack has been part of our relationship since before it was a relationship. Michael and I have carried Jack to Nashville many times to visit his sister-in-law Bebe, a gracious Southern hostess of legendary capability. Our tradition was always to see as many movies as we could in a three-day visit. I think the record might have been six Movies are second to theatre in Jack's passions. We have met Bebe's children and grandchildren on those trips, supped with her Sunday School class, churched at the Cathedral, and become a very small part of the story of Jack's extended family as well.
Here we are, just this past Christmas, at Bebe's house. At Bebe's you have morning coffee in her boudoir because the coffee maker is in her bathroom. Why? Because it's at Bebe's!
Jack lives his own legend of gracious hospitality, hosting many dinners over the years, which we came to see as his insidious way of producing intimate theatre. Jack would cast the perfect players and invite them for dinner, serving delicious courses on his wife's rose china, and in later years, as his guests in the Rolling Green dining room. Over the years we noticed Jack didn't command conversation, or even participate in it over dinner; rather, he watched his production evolve and enjoyed the program he put together. We laughed about that, and Jack never denied it. Thinking about it now, maybe Michael and I are just a play, created by Jack. An intimate performance that began with an innocent invitation to sit with him and his friend during a performance, which Jack is still watching. Jack calls Michael his gold medal friend, and he always gets a hearty kiss on the lips from me. I end my emails to him with KISS as the valediction; if I forget he wonders what he's done to offend me. Michael has known Jack longer than I have, but we both have a deep love and respect for Jack, and I don't know that we're even sure how it came about.
Wait a minute, I know how it came about. Through the grace of God. Jonathan and David also had an immediate, inexplicable friendship. "After David had finished talking with Saul, he met Jonathan, the king’s son. There was an immediate bond between them, for Jonathan loved David. From that day on Saul kept David with him and wouldn’t let him return home. And Jonathan made a solemn pact with David, because he loved him as he loved himself." 1 Samuel 18:1-3 There was no real reason Jonathan and David should have been friends. Rather, they should have been enemies, as Jonathan was in line for the throne that David was to get. Still, Jonathan loved David as a friend, until Jonathan was slain on the battlefield. I don't think anyone is going to be slain here, but life does come to an end, for all of us. It's what we do with that life that really makes the difference. It's what's in the dash, not the dates on either side of it. I've only known Jack for a little bit of his dash, and I don't even know why I'm in that dash, but I'm certainly thankful to our God that I am.
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