Okay, so we all know that RENT is, as of this moment, finished on Broadway. I was not going to write a tribute, because there have been so many beautiful and eloquent stories for that purpose already, stories that expressed my feelings pretty perfectly, but my friend Dan asked to me to post this story, which he wrote, for him. And when I read it, I know I cried, so I thought that he deserved it. Really, I love RENT, and I feel that it made me a better person, but however much I love it, however much RENT is my show, RENT is our show, Dan's and mine, more, and even more than that, RENT is Dan's show. But I am going to stop my rambling now. From here on in is pure Danny.
I know that it is utterly silly, cliché, and ridiculous to say that RENT touched my life, but just like so many other people, it truly did. I guess that I'll have to talk about myself to explain exactly what RENT means to me, so...here goes.
I grew up in this tiny town, where everyone knows everyone and everyone's business. It was a kind of stereotypical small town, especially in that everyone was just about the same. Yeah, we had some racial diversity (Claire-sweetdonalbainsomenumberorother to you-is a prime example of this; I don't know if she's ever mentioned it, but she's Wasian), and a bit of religious differences, but for the most part, we were a group of white, Christian townies. I went to school with the same people from the time I was in preschool, that is, about three years old, until I graduated from high school. And I had the same group of friends through preschool, and elementary school, and middle school. That group of friends was made up almost entirely of boys.
Middle school was when I started getting into trouble, when I started noticing that I was different. The most awful time of puberty was upon us; we were all breaking out, getting taller, having our voices crack, and all of that good stuff. Also, we all started getting awkward around the girls that we had known since we were three, girls who had suddenly started fussing about their hair, clothes, and makeup, girls who had grown...ahem...mammary glands, shall we say. That is, all of us except for me. It's not that I was incredibly confident or smooth or anything; I just couldn't quite comprehend why the girls I'd gone to school with for forever were suddenly special, why asking pretty, blonde Maria to borrow a pencil was suddenly daring, or why talking to the opposite sex was suddenly something to be done nervously, cautiously, stuttering. I also couldn't comprehend why talking to one of the guys, one that I'd never been close with, one that was really more my friend by association, was suddenly a huge deal, why I blushed a lot when I was around him, why I spaced out during classes that I had with him. Then one night I had...a dream, and figured it out.
And then I was in trouble. The slight diversity in town? As far as I knew, it did not extend to homosexuality. That was just one difference that stayed different, and not in a good way. My new infatuation would never call Ann a nigger (sorry), or Andy a spic (again, sorry), or Shobhit a towelhead (once more, sorry), but he didn't think twice about calling all the unpopular boys fags. Being gay...as far as I could see, it was the end of my life. How could anyone still like me after this? Hell, how could I still like myself after this? What, exactly, was the point of living? What was stopping me from ending it, right then and there? That horrible time in my life had gotten me a nice set of razors, which I'd never needed before, and anyway, now that I was big, I could be trusted with the kitchen knives. Why shouldn't I? But I was too afraid, and soon enough, I was in high school. And maybe my vague ideas had started getting more definition. And maybe I was getting braver. But then, as a freshman, I bought this CD on impulse, an Original Broadway Cast recording of a musical called RENT. I'd heard that a bunch of the main characters had AIDS, and I was curious as to how Broadway that was, exactly. And all of a sudden, I felt like one day, I might be accepted. That even if right now, my friends would all hate me if they knew that I was different, I might one day become part of a group where I'd be different still, but that would be okay. Of course, I would have to get through high school first.
A year or so later, the community theater decided to put on RENT. It was a big deal, especially since it was an adult type musical, as opposed to, say, The Music Man or whatever, and it was going to be performed mostly unedited ("Contact" was cut out). Obviously, I jumped at the chance of seeing it. As it happened, so did this girl, Claire, whom I didn't know all that well; of course, we knew each other (small town, remember), but we ran in different circles, and never really talked. But the day of the performance, we did talk a bit, and I realized that she was kind of cool (I can't believe I'm going to give this to her).
The next day was a Sunday, and I went to the park, curled up on a bench, and cried. Why? My parents had found out that I'd gone to see the community version of RENT, and, though I wasn't in trouble, warned me that that "faggot show" might corrupt me, and that all of those "Godforsaken hippies" that they knew the show was about would have gone to hell, if they had been real. I mentioned something about Jonathan Larson being dead, and they told me that the world was better off without him, and all the other fags ought to go too. I didn't bother to correct them on his sexual orientation.
So there I was, on a park bench, crying my eyes out, when who walked up to me but my seatbuddy, Claire (jeez, this feels like a cheesy romance novel; okay, it'd be a cheesy romance novel if Claire were Clarence, a hot, sensitive gay guy or something). She asked me what was wrong, and, before I could think, I blurted out that I was gay.
And then my life changed again. She got what I meant by that, and she just sort of hugged me. And from then on, we were just about inseparable. I was slowly integrated into her circle of friends, and found out that I wouldn't have to wait for acceptance, that I was just looking in the wrong places. I also found out that maybe I wasn't quite as alone in my orientation as I'd thought.
So now I'm in college, and I'm engaged, and I'm happy, and it's all because of RENT. And when I found out that RENT was closing...well, I'm not ashamed to admit it; I cried like a baby. I couldn't imagine a life without my savior. And then I realized...I'll never be completely without RENT. It touched me, and it honestly, truly saved me. It's a part of me now, even if my dear fiancé (wow. Kevin's my fiancé) doesn't quite understand it. And so maybe all the other boys like me won't be able to see RENT, but I suppose that they'll still be able to hear the music, even if they can't see it on Broadway, and they can still find amazing friends. Claire, I love you, girl, you know that. No matter how much of a bitch you can be. And friendship...it really is thicker than blood.
So remember: don't think of your life as a number of years, or an amount of money, or any of that. Think of your life as a number of people you've loved, and a number of people who've loved you back. Measure your life in love.
sweetdonalbain81507: And now look at this: I started crying again, just typing that.
