Communique from Stephanie Shine, Artistic Director, Seattle Shakespeare Company:

“Ain’t War Grand?” We ask you ironically in our marketing for this production of Henry V.

The play itself puts forth the question and brilliantly offers the many facets of a particular war from a variety of its participants. Among my favorite lines regarding War: “I am afear’d, there are few die well, that die in battle: for how can they charitably dispose of anything, when blood is their argument”Williams, IV,i

I have a first cousin I am crazy about.  Timothy McCarthy is 2 years and 2 days older than I am; we grew up celebrating our birthdays together on the day in-between. Timothy is an identical twin, an honest-to-god cowboy from Durango, Colorado: frighteningly handsome, alarmingly witty, and the father of five.  I have idolized him from birth. His phone calls bring me great joy, and we share incredible amounts of laughter.

We have always been close. Our families even lived together for a few years (our moms were sisters) because my Uncle Mac, a career Marine, was fighting in Vietnam.

In March of 2003, I began rehearsal of an all-male The Taming of the Shrew. It was going to be the most exploratory, risky, production of my life to date. I had been looking forward to it for months. Yet the only thing I remember about the first week of rehearsal was that the United States invaded Iraq.

My only son Conor Mac was 12. Timothy’s only son Brandon was 14.  They were too young for war; they were safe.  We were all sure this war would not last long, and Iraq was so very far away.

Seven years have passed; I have continually read in the paper of the sons and daughters from our region who have died in this war. I have wept many mornings over their pictures. I wept for the lost promise of their young lives and the unending pain of other mothers and of fathers.

With each successive year, the gap between Conor’s and Brandon’s ages and the age of the dead soldiers has closed. Now I read of boys dying that are my son’s age, 19.  Then, last year, Timothy’s son, Brandon, enlisted in the Army. The war marches closer and closer to home.

Over New Year’s, Timothy phoned to let me know that Brandon will be deployed to Afghanistan this spring. He will have just turned 21.

One of our boys is now in danger. The war has come home.

I wonder in the next several months, how I will react when I see Timothy’s name on my phone. Will I still welcome his call by breaking into a huge grin and leaping to answer? Or will there be trepidation and even cold fear for what he might have to say? How will any of us sleep soundly knowing Brandon is out there?How will I support this boy I love and his father whom I adore?

What I mourned from a distance is now suffocatingly close. “Ain’t War Grand?”

Perhaps after sharing this play with us you will be answering that question for your self. For me, my thoughts will be with Timothy and Brandon. There is nothing grand about this fear, and I’ll be praying each day as Henry V prays “Not today O Lord, O not today.” – Henry, IV, i