Ever since I first heard the story of Wicked I've thought of a post by Catherine over at Lyric Poetry. So you should head over there and read this post first.

I'll wait.

Are you done yet?

Good.

When I first heard about Wicked, I went and read another book by the same author. The man is phenomenal writer, but I would never recommend a book of his. They are not pleasant reads. However, I was struck by his ability to take a story and completely change the point of view and give a whole new story. His theme seems to be perspective, like in Catherine's post.

I was leery of seeing the play Wicked after reading the other book. But my older brother, who has seen it several times, convinced me that I should give it a whirl. He assured me that the play was significantly cleaned up. Then we found out it was coming to town. My sil and Faramir actually camped out in December to get us tickets.

And I went. Last Thursday.

Um. . .

Wow!!!!

That's all I can say.

Wow!

I was in awe.

The music was awesome. The voices were strong. Glinda was a hoot!

So here are things that struck me.

I didn't realize that this play was as much (or more) about Glinda than it was Elphaba. Elphaba grows as she comes to terms with who she is. Glinda has to grow up. The song "For Good" is one of the most powerful I've heard in a long time.

Along with this thought I was amazed at how much this story was about the power of friendship.

I saw glimpses of the dangers inherent in not taking personal responsibility (Boq) and wondered at the political climate that the play was written as well as the book. (Hints of 1984 by George Orwell come to mind.) There was also the theme of what things truly cost.

Then there was perspective. Did you go read that post by Catherine of Lyric Poetry? This one?

That's pretty much what this play is about. . .along with all that other stuff.

But it didn't impact me emotionally quite as much as I expected, and I've wondered why. Is it the play itself? Was it a mistake for me to listen to the music first?

I think the reason is because I've been forced to learn this lesson quite a bit, and so it wasn't a new thing to me.

When I was younger (read: high school and younger) I was a rather judgmental twit. I just thought that people who didn't believe the same things that I did were less intelligent maybe? Lacking in pure understanding? Obviously, if they really understood they wouldn't act that way! Take, for instance, smoking.

The only people I knew who smoked were the rejects parents. Their kids always smelled like smoke and were socially backwards to boot. They always smelled like cigarette smoke--a smell I cannot stand. (You have to understand here that I grew up in a town that was probably 85 percent LDS. Smoking was virtually unheard of.) I just assumed that only rejects and their parents smoked and that any sane, good person would not.

College became hard for me. I went up north from my hometown for college to a place that was home to a lot of Chinese and Thai exchange students. They all smoked. Going through every door was a nightmare because there were always people around getting their smoke in before class. The worst time was when I was pregnant. That smell just about did me in. But I tutored a lot of those people in English and so I had to put up with it.

Then I moved to Oregon. I got outside of my lovely little world of predominantly LDS people. I moved into government housing. That was a pretty miserable year or so. But there was one bright spot. My manager.

We'll call her Salina for anonymity purposes.

I loved Salina. Salina and I were great friends. I would bring her a banana and a large glass of milk when she needed a mid-morning snack. We would hang out after she got off work. (It was a full time job managing that complex!) I baby sat her kids. (I despised her husband, but that's a story for another day. )

Salina smoked.

And suddenly I learned to deal with it. No, I didn't like it. I couldn't help but think of all of the cancer cells that were invading my lungs every time I was around her when she was smoking. (To her credit, she tried not to when I was around.)

Guess what I found out?

You never will, so I'll tell you. (Name that movie)

She was a good person!

Gasp!

I loved her. I loved her kids. We had such a great time together. She wasn't a reject, though she did have some problems of her own. She was awesome.

Salina taught me that it isn't always cut and dried. There usually aren't all good people or all bad people. She taught me that we, most of us, are trying our best. We are doing the best we can with what we have. She eventually moved to Idaho with her putz of a hubby (who was also trying his best, but I have much less patience with him), and, last I heard, separated from him.

I found this out about a lot of people. My next door neighbors were great. I loved them, even after the night where they woke us up at 3 in the morning because he was beating her.

I found out I could love people who were less than my impossible high school standard of perfect.

People are good. They are doing the best with what they have. I may not completely understand, but it doesn't make them bad. I still don't understand why any one would smoke. Truly I don't. But I now understand that smoking doesn't make a person bad, just as a different political view from me doesn't make a person bad, or a different skin color, or a different language.

I still, as Catherine says in her post, believe that there are good and bad things. Murder is never right. I do believe it's better not to smoke, or drink or do drugs for that matter, but the people involved are great people.

Besides (another one of my high school idiocy's) if I stopped hanging out with every one I know who drinks coffee, I'd be lacking some great friends.

So Wicked was beyond awesome! The lighting effects were great. The music was loud and fun.

I'm just grateful that this isn't the first time I've come across this lesson in my life.