I’m honored to be part of EXPOSED. But it means more to me now that it did last year. I am – as this tour commences -losing my mother-in-law to cancer caused by exposure from our government’s mighty show of nuclear strength. Another light going out…this one too close to home. As one government official put it so many years ago when justifying the tests: “[these people] are a low-use segment of the population.” Well, that’s my partner’s mother, my friend’s father, our playwright’s sister, and YOU he’s referring to.

JOYCE COHEN, ACTOR
I am so pleased to have an opportunity to present this play again. It’s my fervent wish that it will continue to be seen and heard and, schedule permitting, that I may continue to be a part of it. It is so important that the power of this play be experienced.

TERI COWAN, ACTOR
My delusional self was thinking that picking up EXPOSED was kind of going to be a breeze. However, now that I’ve spent some time back in the script, I’m remembering all the non-verbals, the action worked around a prop and the body language that spoke volumes. Wondering how we’ll re-create all of that in a “reading” performance. Thankfully, I trust our director to remedy those issues.

MARY DICKSON, PLAYWRIGHT
I can’t believe it’s been a year since the premiere of EXPOSED! It’s thrilling to be able to take it around the state with the original cast and bring this important story to new audiences. It’s our story as Utahns and as Americans. Plus, I can’t wait to spend time with this incredible cast again. We share a great bond.

MARK FOSSEN, ACTOR
My thoughts on revisiting EXPOSED a year after its premiere? In no particular order: “Can’t wait to see everyone,” “I need to remember how I did that voice,” “It’s awesome to take this to the affected communities that can’t come to Salt Lake,” and “I hope I still fit into my costume.” Theatre’s so ephemeral that it’s a rare treat to come back a year later to do a tour like this. I’m looking forward to every minute of it.

JENNIFER FREED, STAGE MANAGER
I can’t say I am surprised we are continuing our journey with EXPOSED. From the moment I first read this play I knew it would go on. Taking the play to some of the towns closest to the testing site is a natural progression. I look forward to seeing how the life of this play will continue to grow.

JERRY RAPIER, DIRECTOR
My natural mother was outdoors in Nagasaki when the bomb fell. My adoptive mother is currently losing her battle with lung and bone cancer. She grew up in Overgaard, Arizona which, according to the U.S. government, was the region in Arizona hardest hit by nuclear fallout in the 1950s. In fact, she lived there each of the six years in that decade that were identified as the highest risk. She is a downwinder. When I started working with Mary on this play nearly two years ago, it spoke to me on a gut level that I did not understand. Now I do – this issue is my issue.

TERESA SANDERSON, ACTOR
I can’t wait to hang out with everybody again, this cast really feels like family to me so it will be a blast to go on a big old road trip. I also look forward to giving these characters a voice once more – they are passionate people and I can’t wait to share their stories again.

JASON TATOM, ACTOR
It’s strange to think it’s been an entire year since the run. I’m excited that new audiences are going to be able to see and be affected by Mary’s play – especially those in southern Utah, places hard hit by the testing, still dealing with the effects today. But I’m most excited to be working with the people again. It’s like seeing family again after a long time apart (and without any pesky familial issues to deal with). I’m ready to get started.

Well here we go, we survived hell week and the show is open. That is always a feat, but for this show it was surreal. We did the show for Mary’s family on Wednesday night. After the performance Julie, (Mary and Ann’s sister) thanked us for giving her her sister nack for an hour and a half. I cried, we all cried.

The next night (our preview) the house was sold out and full of the folks from Heal Utah – the energy was intense. Actors love that energy we get from an audience but I don’t think I’ve ever had it coming at me like that before. The show went well and I think we all felt like we were ready to open. Good thing because we are opening and Jerry informs us that the run is almost sold out and we will be adding performances.

So finally it’s here…opening night. Now mind you Kirt and I know that some of the people we play will be seeing the play, I had already met Carole Gallagher at the Gallery opening the Friday before, she was lovely and I tried to relax. But opening night (after the show, thanks God) they were suddenly All there it was crazy. I had an idea that Michelle Thomas was there because there was a jazzy wheelchair in the lobby as we made out entrance and, oh yeah, I was sitting two chairs away from here the entire play. Tried hard not to think about that too. Then walking across the street to the after-show party Jerry introduced me to Darlene Phillips. I walked into Squatters and they were all there: Preston, Michelle, Carole, Darlene – it was crazy. I’ve been in theatre a long time now and a lot of cool things come about because of the show you’re doing, but to actually get to meet, talk to and touch those people I am trying to give a voice to every night was something else. There really are no words to describe it. I’ll never forget it. The best part is they are so excited about the play and our work in it. So whew, that’s a big relief!

So now we really are open and made it through the first weeks run. A day off what will that be like? Nice but it will be great to be back on Thursday telling this amazing story with this amazing group of people.

Lucky me, I get to blog about the week of Hell…er, tech! This is the week where suddenly the scenes that were coming along quite nicely when you performed them on a floor with a tape outlining the set, become somewhat maddening when a mere 8-inch-rise step throws you completely off your game. Who knew how many seconds would be added to an entrance when you actually have to go AROUND a set piece, a curtain, or a (you fill in the blank). Yes, this does happen every single production you’re in and yes, in your actor brain you think you’re completely prepared for the little something thrown in the mix that can’t possibly hamper your flawless performance. Then suddenly that line you’ve never missed, EVER, completely escapes you because now, you must utter it standing on a platform rather than on a taped floor. I know. Ridiculous. Next, throw in lights (or lack of), sound, projections, costumes etc. and suddenly everything you think you had a handle on goes out the window. I’d love to say this awakening comes with absolutely no personal stress or tension, but I’d be lying. Sometimes these days can be very ugly but fortunately in the case of EXPOSED whatever minor psychodrama we’ve encountered has been nipped in the bud quickly and with good grace.

Finally, as we approach opening week, we’re in a place where we can rediscover the piece with all of these layers added into the whole. Hopefully the thing is so soundly in our bones that all the technical aspects become an enhancement. On a personal level Mary’s piece is so moving to me that it’s actually been a relief to worry about a pant length or earring choice because to be consumed by the tenderness I feel for the characters is sometimes overwhelming. To be playing a character who was a living, breathing, incredible woman who left behind a husband, three children she adored, a loving sister, parents, family and friends is a responsibility that sometimes takes my breath away. To know that those people will see the production for the first time this week is daunting. But I feel so honored to help tell Ann’s story. Ann’s and all the others.

A blog, huh? Well, welcome to my first ever blog. Now I’m culturally caught up to what, ’96, ’97? Before you know it I’ll be saying things like “Dawg,” or “Awiiight,” or “Oh, snap!” Or even, God forbid, “Fo Shizzle,” while yearning to get a mobile phone that’s roughly the size of a Yugo. Well, I should probably get started, so here I go…and, BLOG!

We are just finishing up what I like to call “Frustration Week.” The first week is when you kind of get your feet wet with the initial parts of the process: meeting actors and technicians you may never have worked with before, read throughs, costume fittings, and (hopefully) rough blocking the whole show. And since we all did our best to be reasonably familiar with our lines, if not actually fully off book going into rehearsals, it was essentially easy-peasy-lemon-squeazy. Then, we move into the second week, the aforementioned “Frustration Week.” This is the week where you might be feeling a little cocky (and when I say “you,” gentle reader, rest assured that I mean “me”) and be certain that you know your lines. But “knowing” your lines is some how mystically tied to being in actual, physical contact with the script itself. Somehow, the simple act of putting the script down and losing that tactile connection with it, renders one (and yes, I do mean me) a virtual amnesiac.

Don’t get me wrong, you know your words, your intentions, and your blocking, just not necessarily all at the same time. putting two or more of these things together can be tempting fate. And that’s the killer. The little bit of an ego I have (and for those of you who know me, I apologize for what ever beverage it was that just came spurting out of your noses while reading that last sentence), is wrapped up in the theatre. The rest of my life is a mess, but the theatre is one of the few places I truly feel I belong, where I can truly excel. And before you start offering me names of various health care professionals, you have to realize that these doubts and frustrations can be positive, motivating things. I have doubts because I care about the process, and serving the piece is very important to me. And I see the same care in everyone involved in the play.

The only thing I tend to expect of audience members who come to the theatre, is that you come with an open mind. That you are willing to listen to what is said, and then make informed decisions about what you liked, what you think, and why. But I don’t know that that is necessary for this particular piece. I think it’s okay to show up to the theatre with a bit of a chip on your shoulder, or a little fire in your belly. The stories dealt with here are personal, powerful and raw. And even more so when you remember that the stories happened to real people, who have been dealing with the after effects of radiation exposure for decades. Just be ready to start digging into your own family histories, to start wondering, even realizing that you may have lost a loved one, or loved ones, to radioactive fallout.

Before wrapping up, I would like to share a personal realization I have had in the rehearsing of EXPOSED. My own Grandfather was a brakeman for the Southern Pacific Railroad for a couple of decades, riding throughout long desolate stretches of the southwest. When he was finally taken from my family a little over twenty years ago, he was suffering from four different cancers. Three of those cancers were fatal. How does a non-drinker, non-smoker, who worked hard out-of-doors his entire life, get four different cancers? I can’t ever really know the causes, but working on Mary’s play has made me form my own opinions.

So come to the play, do a little digging, maybe get mad. And then hopefully start getting involved in whatever way you can.

Hey, dig me. I blogged.

I have been looking forward to the beginning of rehearsals since last Spring when I participated in the public reading. This piece is so important. It feels like one which should be heard everywhere. Rehearsals are exciting. Both Mary and Jerry are open to our questions and suggestions. Because each of them have a clear and powerful vision of the play, l know hat we are all working toward the same goal. There is stunning information to impart and the trick is to deliver it dramatically. The goal is how best to honor that. My mind is working overtime! Sleep is not coming easily.

I always read at bedtime and I decided early on that I would NOT take my research to bed – I thought the subject matter would be too disturbing. But, as synchronicity would have it, the other night I began to read ESSAYS BY E.B.WHITE and I came upon a piece he had written in the 50s about testing and fallout. A couple excerpts:

“Human beings have always been willing to shed their blood for what they believed in. Yesterday this was clear and simple; we would pay in blood because, after the price was exacted, there was still a chance to make good the gain. But the modern price tag is not blood. Today our leaders and the leaders of our nation are, in effect, saying, ‘We will defend our beliefs not alone with our blood – by God we’ll defend them, if we have to, with our genes.’…I admire the spirit of it, but the logic eludes me. I doubt whether any noble principle – or any ignoble principle, either, for that matter – can be preserved at the price of genetic disintegration.”

“The rich brown patch of ground used to bring delight to eye and mind at this fresh season of promise. For me the scene has been spoiled by the maggots that work in the mind. Tomorrow we will have rain, and the rain falling on the garden will carry its cargo of debris from old explosions in distant places. Whether the amount of this freight is great or small, whether it is measurable by the farmer or can only be guessed at, one thing is certain: the character of rain has changed, the joy of watching it soak the waiting earth has been diminished, and the whole meaning and worth of gardens has been brought into question.” (from SOOTFALL AND FALLOUT – 1956)

This writer (CHARLOTTE’S WEB, essays for THE NEW YORKER magazine, poetry, etc.) who lived and worked on the east coast(!), was writing eloquently about the dire consequences of atomic testing in the 50s. Discovering that essay was a lovely gift. But, truth be told, this ‘coincidence’ is not a surprise. This happens to me whenever I’m working on a play. Poetry, music, literature…one or all of those forms with messages about the subject I am immersed in ALWAYS find their way to me. And, believe me, it’s a blessing for which I am deeply grateful.

The play is staged now – it has a rough shape. The first week is done and sleep is proving to be ever more elusive…

From the October issue of Catalyst Magazine

I didn’t intend to write a play. I was writing a book about the human consequences of nuclear testing that blended my personal story as a downwinder with powerful documentation. In the summer of 2005, I was invited to spend a month as a writer-in-residence at the Mesa Refuge in Point Reyes, California to work on the manuscript. One day my book would be included on the bookshelf alongside those of previous residents – Terry Tempest Williams, Gray Brechin, Peter Barnes and so many other environmental writers I admired. I returned home that summer with a 275-page manuscript.

Then, I met L.A. actress/activist Mimi Kennedy, who was in Salt Lake to speak at a political fundraiser. I told her about my thyroid cancer and my work on behalf of downwinders. It turned out she had family members in New Jersey with thyroid problems. That’s when I showed her part of my manuscript that documented how widespread fallout from nuclear testing was. I showed her how areas in New Jersey and across the country were hot spots, how thyroid problems including cancer like mine were common among people who had been exposed to fallout as children. Later that week she left a message, “I read your piece again and it’s just amazing. So much beauty and heart. I wanted to call you and egg you on to write a play. It would stand for all time. I’ll get my friends in L.A. to do a staged reading.”

I’ve had monologues produced, but a play? She had to be kidding. Her friends in L.A.? Sure. I chalked it up to one of those moments of unbridled enthusiasm that leads people to make big plans they never intend to pursue once the burst subsides. But a few weeks later, she called again. “How’s the play coming?” “Oh just fine,” I lied. She had a date for a fundraiser that would include a staged reading. All I had to do was to tell my truth, she said. “Make it personal. Tell your story. Weave in the facts.” That night I started writing a play.

Amazingly, everything kept falling into place. At a dance concert, Pulitzer Prize-nominated playwright Aden Ross told me she wanted to get together and pick my brain for a play she wanted to write about downwinders. I told her about Mimi Kennedy and the play I was writing. “Of course!” she said enthusiastically. “This is your play. I’m so excited you’re doing it.” We started meeting for coffee at a place we called “The Two Anarchists” because neither of us could ever remember its name. Aden became my mentor, a dear friend and a source of boundless encouragement. Whenever I felt like giving up, she pulled me back in. “Writing is easy,” she quoted a writer – another name we couldn’t remember. “You just cut open your veins and bleed.” So I cut open my veins and let the play take shape.

As I wrote, rewrote, massaged, took out scenes and added others, Aden cheered me on. Then, she asked if should could tell Jerry Rapier at Plan-B Theatre about the script. I’ve long admired Jerry for understanding the power of art to tell the stories that shape our lives. When Jerry called to say he was going on a trip and would like to take my script along, I protested, saying it wasn’t finished. Jerry said that didn’t matter, he just wanted to read what I had. So I reluctantly gave him the script. A few days later he left a message on my answering machine. “We must talk post haste.” I called him. “I want to produce your play,” he said.

And so Plan-B’s production of EXPOSED began. In many ways I’ve been working on it all my life. I am one of countless Americans who suffered the consequences of nuclear testing, having been diagnosed with thyroid cancer when I was 29. My older sister died of an autoimmune disease. In the Salt Lake City neighborhood where we grew up, I counted more than 54 people who got sick or died from fallout-related illnesses. From 1951 to 1992 the U.S. government exploded 928 nuclear bombs at the Nevada Test Site. Winds blew the fallout from those bombs across the nation while our government when they assured us, “There is no danger.” We traded our trust for our health and ultimately our lives.

Part memoir, part oral history and part journalistic investigation, EXPOSED puts a needed human face on what happened to unsuspecting populations as a result of nearly 1,000 atomic bombs exploded on our own soil. Taking Mimi’s advice to make the script personal, EXPOSED follows two sisters – Mary, a writer, and Ann, a stay-at-home mother (beautifully played by accomplished actresses Joyce Cohen and Teri Cowan respectively). Directed by Jerry Rapier, the play begins in 1985 when Mary has been treated with radiation after her cancer surgery. The play follows the sisters through their struggles with their illnesses, their support for each other, their discovery of the government’s betrayal and the source of their diseases, their fight to expose the truth and their determination not to let the mistakes of the past be repeated.

During her investigation, Mary meets and interviews people across the country, including a writer in New York who documented heavy fallout in upstate New York; a doctor in Missouri who linked the high cancer rates in his county with fallout; a former Air Force Colonel who tracked fallout as far as Canada; and downwinders and activists like Preston Truman, Michelle Thomas and Darlene Phillips, and Carole Gallagher who share their stories and expertise. Actors Kirt Bateman and Teresa Sanderson deftly play multiple roles as these characters.

Scenes with the two sisters are juxtaposed with scenes taken from the actual declassified minutes of Atomic Energy Commission meetings, and testimony from government hearings. There’s even a scene with billionaire Howard Hughes, who was determined to “buy nuclear peace.” The play, which uncovers the web of government lies and cover-ups, spans the years through the fall of the Berlin Wall and the end of the Cold War, right up to the Bush administration’s push for new nuclear weapons that could lead to renewed nuclear testing including Divine Strake. Actors Jason Tatom and Mark Fossen play Official 1 and Official 2, who represent an assortment of government officials, including Atomic Energy Commissioners and those working within the nuclear industry who deny fallout’s effects. They are, in essence, the everyman of the military-industrial complex.

EXPOSED is more than a retelling of a painful chapter of our nation’s past. It shows how the subject is still relevant today. We have a government that is still lying and covering up the facts about weapons of mass destruction, using fear to carry out a policy that puts Americans at increased risk. And worse, a government that still considers renewed testing a viable option.

EXPOSED is timely for another reason as well. Because of the lag effect (often decades) between fallout exposure and subsequent illness, we are still living with the ongoing suffering from fallout. For downwinders, it’s never over. That why EXPOSED memorializes those who have died. Audience members will be invited to add names of other victims on a mural outside the theatre.

The response to the play has been incredibly heartening. After an early reading, actors started telling their own stories. One said his father had had thyroid cancer and his mother was dying of liver cancer. Another actor showed the scar on her neck from thyroid cancer surgery. The play elicits similar responses to every staged reading – including those on a Nation magazine cruise and at a staged public reading at Playhouse West in Walnut Creek, California. Stories and more stories continue to come forward. Downwinders have been the forgotten casualties of the Cold War, the people deemed expendable by a government that called us “a low use segment of the population.” I wrote EXPOSED to tell our story and to shed light on what a New York Times journalist called the “most prodigiously reckless program of human experimentation in U.S. history.”

As a writer, I know the power of words, and while the pen may be mightier than the sword, the eraser is mightier still. By bringing my very personal story to life and combining it with historical facts, I hope to ensure that our stories will not be erased. EXPOSED both bears witness and serves as a warning. If we have learned anything from four decades of atomic testing, it is that we all live downwind.