We met in at a coffee shop after a callback in Seattle.  He asked about the coffee I was having and conversations progressed about theater. And then, in our first interaction he asked if my last name was Menzies.  And I thought, “this random person in this coffee shop knows me, how in the world does this happen.” Then he tells me that he talked to a director and my name came up on a list.  He encouraged me to audition for the show she was directing and offered a place to stay on Bainbridge Island…because I would need to spend an extra night in Seattle before heading back to Coeur D’Alene. We went out for beers and talked about everything- from artist struggles to Scottish heritage, from his business to life living on an island.  We super connected and he became like a grandpa to me instantly (he having a lot of the similar attributes of my own grandfather).

From then on our interaction were nothing but serendipity.  I would go to an audition and he would appear at the same pace at the same time.  We go out for a bite and end up at the same place at the same time. One instance I had just missed a ferry because of a late bus connection, this meant that I would have to wait for an hour and a half and in walks my friend who had just finished seeing a show in Tacoma. I was very grateful for this because it meant I could ask him for a lift instead of riding my bike home at 1AM.  Little did I know that this would be the next to last interaction I would have with him. He died three days later of a stroke and heart attack. That night we talked about acceptance, about having a perspective of understanding and wanting to learn and grow despite of known ignorance, notably with trans peoples. He encouraged me in the show that we were working on. He was almost out of gas in his beaten up truck and on Bainbridge Island all of the gas stations were closed.  

He would tell me that he would definitely have enough gas to drop me and my borrowed bike off at the place I had been staying at.  I responded with “What about you driving home?” He would encourage me that it would work out. This simple exchange I think exemplifies the heart of this man.  He was very eager to serve, to help, to love openly with nothing in return and would sacrifice himself for those he cared about.

After his passing, the cast gathered – a week before we were to open our show  to create sacred space to honor Michael Louden. One of the mom’s of the cast brought a pie dish with four sunflowers and placed it in the middle of our chair lined circle, where another cast mate placed three pieces of wood symbolizing a campfire.  In this sacred space we remembered who this man was and his impact on the personal lives of many people and artists on Bainbridge Island, his contributions to theater and to the community to his once thriving restaurant on the Island. His son, then came to encourage the cast that theater was his father’s greatest joy and that the best thing we can do for him is do our best with “Forest Song.”

Later that night I sang in my first cabaret in Seattle to which I dedicated a song to him.

In Forest Song there is a scene where and old man talks of his impending death and that he would wish to be buried next to the thing that he found for and stood for; the oak tree (a simple of the union of two different worlds).  The story unfolds that after his death, the oak tree is cut down. In Celtic traditions there is an ancient symbol of a cut down oak tree and new saplings growing all around it, and where one has fallen it makes room for many. Michael bridged the gap between different worlds (or worldviews) and provided the way for many to be encouraged to follow after their passions and be honest.

Sometimes in life you meet extraordinary people who cause you to leap into a new dimension of yourself.  For me Michael is such a person. I would not be in Seattle doing a show without him and his unrelenting encouragement and friendliness made Seattle a simple reality instead of a distant desire.  

R.I.P.

Á la Prochain,

DCM