Two days ago, our studio suddenly turned from a ‘frog’ to a ‘prince’, when at 1 am Craig, Carol, Matthew and I pushed the last plank of Ikea flooring into its space. With 980 square feet of floor, lots of man power and girls’ ability to read Ikea directions, we felt the sweet satisfaction of completing a job (and the not-so-sweet aches and burning blisters)

But, the very next morning, we moved on to a next task: finding a piano for our studio.  We sent out an email to all of our friends, fans, supporters, neighbors and clients, asking them to donate a piano they might not be using.

The response we got, in a very short time was amazing and encouraging: we got several offers of pianos, organs and digital keyboards.  We had to check them out and then pick one.

The first person I went to see was Mr. Bob Siegfried.  A few people directed us to him and his basement workshop where he keeps and maintains eight different regular and player pianos.

I was introduced to him by his lovely wife of 53 years, Helen.  They wanted to know how was piano going to be used and smiled when I told them that it would be the “orchestra” to many of our shows at our studio.

They both knew the location of our theatre – and the many businesses it hosted over the years.  Helen reminisced about having lunch with her friend, in the Tea Room located where now I would take one of their pianos.

Mr. Siegfried said it didn’t matter to him which one I took, for as long as he could have an access to it so he could take care of it.  Like a child in a candy store, I moved from piano to piano pressing down the keys, listening to the different colors, enjoying the character and the craftsmanship of each one.

I avoided the player pianos, simply because I didn’t know how they worked, or what would I do with one of them (honestly, I didn’t know that a player piano is also a ‘regular’ piano!)

Mr. Siegfried noticed that I didn’t even pluck a single note on his player pianos.  I felt I needed to explain: “I don’t really know how they work.  Would you show me?”, I asked him.

He sat down, turned the air on, opened a compartment above the pedals and pulled out two larger push pedals, then opened up the top to reveal the roll of paper.  Finally, he unfolded the front lip of the keyboard where levers for tempo, direction and loudness are located.  He was ready.  His feet started pumping the pedals which turned the roll of paper above.

As the keys started moving by themselves, I had the same thought my boys would think – it’s magic! I smiled wide and let out a “Wow!”

But Mr. Siegfried stoped after only a few measures, rewound the roll of paper, moved aside a bit and said: “Help me to read those words”

He started to pump again, and the piano began to play.  I noticed the faded blue words that read “Mem’ries”   Before I could recognize the tune, Mr. Siegfried was singing in his weakened by age, but still beautiful voice: “Mem’ries, like the corners of my mind…” I tried to sing along with him, but soon was fighting back tears.  “Misty water-colored memories of the way we were…”, he sang more to himself than for me, more as if he was there in his basement alone.  Alone with his piano: “Scattered pictures / of the smiles we left behind / smiles we gave to one another /for the way we were…”

There beside me was a life so rich and beautiful.  A life slowed down by time, but a life so rich with music, love and generosity.  I wanted to stay there for the rest of the afternoon and listen to him sing, ask him about each one of the pianos and then sit with Helen over a cup of tea and hope she’d tell me stories of old Clifton, of their youth, all the music they danced to and all they songs they sang.  But I had to go.  He said he would arrange the movers and let me know when they would bring the piano down.

As I shook his hand and walked away, I knew that there couldn’t be a more fitting piano than one of Mr. Bob Siegfried’s for the Clifton Performance Theatre.  What it will bring to so many kids and grown ups, is not only its rich sound and its amazing old-world craftsmanship, but a lifetime of mem’ries of the way it were.

And Mr. Siegfried will keep tuning it and maintaining it, and maybe we’ll be so lucky to catch him pumping the pedals and singing to himself at our studio on Ludlow.  Or perhaps he would come down to play and sing for us and our children and take us all back to a time when people sang.

If you live in Cincinnati, or are traveling through, please do come down to hear the piano, or perhaps catch one of the children’s performances, or the plays we’ll put on.  And say a prayer of thanksgiving for the generous and unselfish who keep our world a great place to live.

Tajci Cameron

We’ll have photos of our studio posted soon at CliftonPerformanceTheatre.com

Two weeks ago, I sat on the front porch of our house drinking my morning tea. Matthew took Evan and Blais on some errand, and Dante was sitting next to me, reading his book, occasionally stopping to talk to me. It was peaceful.

Peaceful like a Sunday afternoon in Croatia (where last year, people voted that all non-essential business be closed on Sundays). Peaceful like the calm after a storm.

Now, it was mid-July. Our ‘touring’ season had ended on the last day of May, and then the whirlwind started: graduations and talent show at kids’ school; summer camp that involved the full production of Alice in Wonderland – a musical version; Matthew’s trip to Croatia; my niece Nora performing in Chicago with Croatian Folk Dance group; going to Nashville with my sister; a very emotional parting with my mother who had spent six beautiful weeks with us; birthday parties; friends visiting…

And now, for a moment the house, and our lives, were peaceful. It felt good.

I was also at the point where I was finally happy with my house (since moving in almost five years ago). There are no walls that really need painting, no rooms to be furnished, even the toys and all the every-day clutter were thinned out and somewhat organized. The gardens were filling in this year, and after I was introduced to Mulch (!) there was nothing to weed.

So I took the rest of the day easy and counted my blessings.

Good. Because not even two weeks later, I found myself next to Matthew covered in paint. He had been working already for the entire week – taking down walls, pulling the carpet, cleaning all the debris… I guess, that’s the way we are – just can’t sit still.

We had rented a studio space for our newly founded Clifton Performance Theatre (which we partner with our friends Craig and Carol Brammer). It needed a lots of work, and since theatres historically don’t have any money, we decided to do all the work by ourselves.

So there I was, painting the backstage wall of our studio in a nice, flat black paint. It’s amazing how a little bit of paint can transform you into a world of imagination and bring all the memories back… I thought of years spent at Zagreb’s Youth Theatre (Zagrebacko Kazaliste Mladih) where I learned so much of my craft; my years at AMDA in NYC and their small performance theatre; and the few Broadway houses in which I had a chance to hang backstage with my actor friends. The black walls, chipped at places, showing the white plaster underneath, the stage curtains and black wooden floors… all so simple and yet rich with stories of hopes and dreams, of great opening nights and emotional closings, of audiences changed forever by great peformances of great plays, of memories being made and hundreds of years of theatre tradition being kept alive.

As I painted I thought how great it was going to be for my sons to have a theatre space (in a walking distance of our house) in which they will be able ‘hang’, explore, discover, lose themselves in the world of imagination, learn the power of performance arts, experience a good story being told in real time, with real actors right before their eyes (as opposed to movies which are rewindable and remote), grow into young men, learn about love and being able to express it.

I felt grateful to Matthew and my friends Craig and Carol for sharing my vision and taking on this new venture as opposed to taking it easy and enjoying a peaceful summer ?

PS. I am absolutely convinced that Clifton Performance Theatre will bring so much to the town where we live – not just my kids, but so many out there (log onto www.CliftonPerformanceTheatre.com, watch the short video and read parents’ feedback. And join our theatre on Facebook or Twitter)