The whole ride from Al Asad to a base deep in the desert we clutched our M-16’s so tightly our hands went numb.  We arrived in Fallujah, Iraq after a four-hour ride in the back of a 7-ton up-armored troop carrier.  The smell upon arrival was unforgettable.  Burning plastic and trash is a smell people try to forget.  It burns your nose and sticks to everything you have.  It was then that I made a pledge.  My memories wouldn’t be visceral.  They would be deeply forged in the relationships I had and made while I was there.

 

I remember sitting in a small bunker at the edge of the base talking with Joe about everything and eventually running out of subjects.  Somehow I brought up the subject of the show I wanted to create when I got home.  It would start out with a ballet dancer who joined the Corps to prove he was a man and that he could accomplish anything.  He would fall in love with a ballerina and soon after be called to war.  He would head to Iraq, stand post, go on patrols and meet Iraqis.  He would be brave but human, strong but vulnerable, dedicated to the mission while longing for home.  He would get injured.  His love back home would mourn him because she would think he died and she would dance without him.  He would return and they would embrace…

 

“We should do this,”  Joe said.  When we returned to our room he grabbed paper and a pen and we started plotting.  Every-time we stood post it became the subject of interest.  We rearranged plot lines, characters, props and special effects.  We discussed venues, audiences and schools.  Every conversation made the show possible, do-able and more real.

 

The days came and went and soon we were on a plane back home.  Joe and I parted ways and the dream faded into the back of our minds.  

 

Then in late 2007 I called Joe and invited him to play a role in an excerpt of the show.  The show we talked about in the desert 5800 miles away.  A show about a ballet dancer who joined the Corps…