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Reflections by Ed Joyner:
Just left the Episcopal Church of St. Paul and St. James at 57 Olive Street in New Haven where I saw a phenomenal performance of Black Nativity a play developed by Langston Hughes, one of my cultural heroes. The guiding forces behind the production consisted of an intergenerational collection of young (and a bit past young) from among New Haven’s finest families. Aleta McClam Staton directed this Black interpretation of the birth of the baby Jesus. The play featured the venerable Mae Brown, and an assortment of baby Browns, a Bost, a Brady, a Daniels, some Flakes, and Monks, a Fripp, a Herbert, and a Reid. The only thing missing was a partridge in a pear tree. The production was every bit as good as anything you could see on Broadway, but with a more affordable price, a very courteous greeting from the ushers and ticket takers, and an opportunity to take time off from the tensions and conflicts that currently afflict our nation and the world. It hearkened me back to a time when we lived in communities and not “hoods,” when underwear remained under, and when we greeted each other with uplifting phrases instead of the harsh terms we hear in public spaces today. Three of my favorite people, Richard “Cut” McCollum, Kenny Powell, and the ubiquitous, all around good guy Tom Ficklin played key supporting roles.
The audience was diverse and unanimous in their praise for the quality of singing, musicianship, and some cool steps (that appeared to be improvisational) by the sister and brother team of the singing principal, Janet Brown Clayton and her mega-talented brother Charles CC Brown (Hillhouse Class of 81). Langston Hughes must be smiling in heaven because this crew brought a mixture of spirituality and blues elements that I am sure would make the ebony bard proud. This is in sharp contrast to some of the commercialized pathology that passes for art today. I rest my case.
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