How Family Identity Evolves

In End Days, each family member has made a big change in their personal identity that’s pushed them far away from the Stein family core. Each is left re-evaluating their own personal point of view in relationship to the others, asking, “If you are THAT, then who am I?”

Stories from our End Days artists:

From Stage Manager Nancy Staiger
End Days is a play about family. A family dealing with the changing dynamics that are a natural part of family life and struggling with eventful changes that occurred following 9/11. I think that many of us can pinpoint a pivotal event that redefined our roles within our own families, and in doing so changed the course of our lives. For me, it was the passing of my husband. And the “gift” of that tragic event was the rebirth and strengthening of family connections.

My mom, then in her eighties, graciously invited me to move back home while I sorted out the emotional and financial ramifications. My “role” changed from wife (32 years) and mother (two great kids now on their own) to daughter. As we learned to live together as adults, mother and daughter became friends. Within a year Mom had lost her sight and friend also became caretaker. I am very grateful for the year we had together as friends so that my caretaking did not feel like a burden for either of us.

Shortly after Mom’s 90th birthday she became a Great Grandmother, which meant I was now a “Gramma.” But we were in California and the latest “pivotal event” occurred in Chicago. Ever gracious, Mom asked if I wanted to move to Chicago so I could take on this new role. Tempted but concerned, I asked which of my brothers would then take on the role of caretaker. Without hesitation Mom said, “I would come with you. I want to get to know my great granddaughter.”

Mom passed away at 92, quietly and peacefully at home in Chicago. My daughter and granddaughter were both there. And Delia, now three, remembers Big Gramma who, “used to sleep a lot and always had cookies under her pillow.”

From Sound Designer Nick Keenan
My father had this habit of opening up the house to some interesting characters, usually without warning, and usually to folks who were in one state of creative homelessness or another. There was the macrobiotic hermit who cooked us a pound of flint corn and chastised us for enjoying dairy with the meal. There was the injured marine who walked with the assistance of a cane, had political aspirations, and used a few too many painkillers to make those political aspirations possible. There was the Willie Nelson look-alike who didn't really talk but could rebuild a mean engine. They were folks on the edges of society – folks who weren't really allowed in polite company in our hometown in Western Massachusetts. My dad was seen as pretty odd for the company he kept, most of all by us growing up in that house. But we did collect some amazing stories.

After I moved to Chicago and started tapping into the theater scene I realized, like most folks do, that I was starting to act like my father. I made friends with all the crazy, almost obnoxiously bohemian or just-out-of college-and-starving artists who lived in closets and communes and connected many of them with opportunities in some of the most respected and well-funded theaters in town... and they thrived. I began to understand what Dad had been doing all those years: he was a connector of people. He looked past the label on the person (the burnout, the drunk) and saw the untapped skills and dreams. He connected the people who needed the most support and patience with opportunity and community. Surprisingly, he did it in the same way I do now. He was able to free the people – including me – of their challenging situations, and open up a wide future of alternate possibility. He did it by telling all those amazing and almost unbelievable stories, and the story carried them on.

Read more from Nick Keenan on his blog, Theater for the Future.

From actor Carolyn Faye Kramer
By the age of five I was unequivocally sure: I wanted to be my older sisters. I subsequently did everything in my power to emulate their utterly awesome and infinitely cool behavior. My sisters listened to Meatloaf and Tom Petty, so I watched VH1 and memorized their lyrics. My sisters played soccer, so I joined a soccer team. My sisters played softball, so I joined a softball team. My sisters went to sleep away camp, so I went to sleep away camp. All of this was well and fine until I realized that none of it fit quite right. On the soccer field, if the ball was flying in my direction, I would run the other way. As a general rule, being afraid of the ball does not bode well for participants in team sports. I was consistently the worst player on every one of my teams for the duration of my soccer playing career. On my softball team, I was comforted by the fact that I was merely the second to worst player (thankful that one of my close friends – forced into playing by her mother – was even more petrified of being hit by a rogue foul ball than I was). At camp, I dreaded wadding into the muck of Lake Potanapo, and then spending the rest of my afternoon chaffing in a wet swimsuit, as I ran back and forth, unsuccessful in my attempt to capture the flag. By the age of twelve something had become glaringly obvious: I did not actually like being my sisters. While I felt cool as the only eight year old I knew who listened to classic rock, I was completely out of my element in the other realms that my sister occupied.

My tendencies have always been more towards artist than jock. I found my stride more in an art studio, drawing and painting, than on a baseball diamond. So, I decided it was time to attend a summer program that my sisters loving called “that hippie-crunchy-granola arts camp” on a farm in Vermont. This felt right to me. I quit soccer and softball, and auditioned for “Little Shop of Horrors.” My grandmother was elated to see this turn (or reveal) of events. She had grown up in a family of Vaudeville performers. My grandmother herself had wanted to pursue her passion for acting, but was restrained by various responsibilities to her family. So, while heading down the path to becoming an actor and a visual artist brought me closer to my grandmother, it created a good deal of tension between me and my sisters, who were used to me skipping eagerly behind them.

“Why don’t you become a politician? Or a lawyer! You should be a lawyer.” “Thanks, but no thanks,” I would tell them.

“Fine. Well, you’re gonna end up living in my closet. You know that, right?” One sister studied economics and business, the other was in pre-med, and I, while perpetually encouraged to become a politician or a lawyer because of my propensity for “public speaking,” decided to follow the path that I knew, in my gut, was right for me.

“I’m going to be an actor,” I told my family. This did not go over as well as I hoped it would. My mother refused to let me enter a life of “uncertainty,” that she was sure would include copious amounts of drugs and alcohol, and my sisters were skeptical, at best.

I left my home in Boston and went to college in Chicago. I moved farther away than either of my sisters, so I could to learn what I wanted to learn, where I wanted to learn it, and feel safe enough to take huge risks. Four years later, my relationship with my family is entirely different. My mom and sisters finally got on board once they saw how serious and committed I was. My sisters could not be more encouraging and excited about the work I do, and my mom never misses a show. It took a few years of transition, but they have become my biggest supporters.

Feels Like Teen Spirit

Is there an age when messages of faith are most potent? In End Days, teenagers Rachel and Nelson are both willing to dive head first in to new ways of defining beliefs, no matter how unconventional, in order to define themselves.

An article from TIME Magazine, 2005

End Days artistic team

Director Shade Murray has numerous Chicago credits including The Chosen (Jeff Nomination, Director), The Subject Was Roses at Writers' Theatre, Fatty Arbuckle... at Second City, R.U.R., Marathon '33 (Jeff and After Dark Awards, Ensemble), Detective Story (Jeff Award, Production, Director, Ensemble), WRLS #5, and Our Country's Good at Strawdog, Kimberly Akimbo at A Red Orchid, Stupid Kids (Jeff Nomination, Director), Some Explicit Polaroids, Santaland Diaries, Never Swim Alone at Roadworks as well as productions at the MCA, Shattered Globe, About Face, Colbalt, Shakespeare's Motley Crew, Timberlake Playhouse and dance theatre in collaboration with MK and Birgitta Victorson.  Shade is an MFA candidate in directing at Northwestern University and was recently named a finalist for the 2009 NEA/TCG Career Development Program for Directors.  Upcoming productions:  Abigail's Party (A Red Orchid), Good Soul of Szechuan (Strawdog). This is his first production with Next Theatre.

Playwright Deborah Zoe Laufer has had her plays developed at The Eugene O'Neill Playwrights Conference, Williamstown Theatre Festival, The Ojai Playwrights Conference, The Missoula Colony, The Cherry Lane Alternative, The Dramatists Guild Fellowship Program, New Georges and The Lark Play Development Center. She is a two-time recipient of the LeCompte du Nouy grant from The Lincoln Center Foundation. Other works include The Last Schwartz (published by Smith and Kraus in Women Playwrights, the Best Plays of 2003), Out of Sterno, Fortune, The Gulf of Westchester, Random Acts and Miniatures. Deborah was one of six playwrights commissioned by Actors Theatre of Louisville to write Brink, featuring their Apprentice Company at this year's Humana Festival. She is a member of The Dramatists Guild and is a graduate of The Juilliard School, where she has also been a Playwright-in-Residence. The acting editions of End Days, The Last Schwartz, and Out of Sterno are being published by Samuel French with whom she was the featured playwright in January of 2009. Read more at deborahzoelaufer.com

Next Theatre Artistic Associates Joseph Wycoff and Laura T. Fisher appear in the production. Joseph has been seen in numerous productions including Defiance, Frozen, The U.N. Inspector, Miss Witherspoon, Omnium Gatherum and The Misanthrope. He will also play the lead role of Mr. Povondra in the upcoming production of War With the Newts: Povondra’s Dream. In End Days, he tackles the other-worldly roles of Jesus and Stephen Hawking.

Laura T. Fisher was last seen in Defiance and also appeared in Helen. Identified by the playwright as the inspiration for her story, Laura plays Sylvia Stein, an agnostic, well-educated Jewish mother who becomes an Evangelical Christian, much to the surprise of her family.

The cast is rounded out by William Dick, Adam Shalzi and Carolyn Faye Kramer.

The production team includes Set Designer Andre LaSalle, Costume Designer Melissa Torchia, Lighting Designer Lee Fiskness, Sound Designer Nick Keenan, and Stage Manager Nancy Staiger.

Add your voice to the conversation!

Share your story about shifting family dynamics transforming your role, values or identity. We’ll share responses from additional artists and fellow audience members in our lobby and here at nexttheatre.org. Send your thoughts, anecdotes and stories to Chelsea@nexttheatre.org.