by Mark Kennedy, Arden Professional Apprentices

Every day, except for Mondays, I hum the song “Finishing the Hat” from Sunday in the Park with George in the Arcadia green room while I sew in a fake hair piece to the Mouse’s hat. Later onstage he will cut it all up and after the show I will take out the hair piece, spot clean the hat, and let it dry so I can sew in a new piece the next day. It is one of the many little tasks I complete daily (and in many cases, twice a day) to keep If You Give A Mouse A Cookie running.

I have many tasks like this that involve constant upkeep; I am definitely never really finishing anything. I put every prop in its proper place only to be brought out and thrown around each day and I spend about an hour and fifteen minutes cleaning up each mess. I have to be painstakingly careful cleaning up each and every time because I have to be sure to clean up all the rice flour that the Mouse pours onstage at a particularly delightful moment in Act I. The rice flour gets into the cracks on the floor, into the tiny ledges in the cabinets, even into corners backstage. I have to be sure to get rid of it all because if any rice is left out it will attract real pests like ants and moths. If it’s left out with water under the stage lights it will actually bake into unleavened bread. We definitely do not want our own version of If You Give A Bug A Biscuit.

As I write this we’ve done 45 shows and you can imagine after five weeks of constant cleaning I might be feeling a little weary of the tedium. But it’s funny, I’ve been less weary than I thought I’d be.

I find a lot of little things that keep me happy. The Mouse draws a picture of a large sun and a house as he sings “You Are My Sunshine” each show, and I’ve hung up each picture backstage as a visual representation of the number of times we’ve told this story. 45 so far. Only 53 to go!

On the inside of the Mouse’s hat is a little inscription that reads “Do what you like. Like what you do.” I like to think our costumer Richard St. Clair chose the hats not only because our Mouse is ever the optimist, but that the hat’s message would provide me a daily reminder of just how lucky I am to be here, working, doing what I like. So I choose to think that way, and marvel at my luck to be doing it.

On the front of the hat is another inscription: “Life is good.”

By Mark Kennedy, Arden Professional Apprentice

Whit MacLaughlin, director of If You Give A Mouse A Cookie, used a metaphor I loved one day in rehearsal as he was working with Steve Pacek, our Mouse, on the physicality of his character.

He described leaning out over the edge of a cliff, and how in that position, your body is one hundred percent ready for anything. He said that an actor, especially in physical comedy, always has to be in that state of high-octane readiness, but also has to translate that kind of energy into simple, every-day motions, like drinking tea.

As Mouse Cookie‘s ASM, or assistant stage manager, I’ve latched onto the idea of drinking tea at the precipice. My main responsibility is tracking all the props used in our Mousey mayhem. At any moment during the rehearsal process Stephanie Cook, my stage manager, could ask me to run down to our props master Meredith McEwen to ask questions about a prop or come up with a substitute prop for rehearsal. I’ve helped transform the rehearsal hall into a green screen studio for Jorge Cousineau, our video and sound designer, to film footage.

I’ve also had to be ready to reset the stage as we go back and work moments again and again (in one rehearsal we worked one sequence 78 times in a row!), refining the light and sound cues, the way the actors interact with the set, the props, and each other. That could mean putting a mop backstage in the place where it’s easiest for Davey Raphaely, our Boy, to grab. Or it could mean taking ten minutes to clean up rice flour, stuffed animals, streamers of tape, and hula hoops, among many other things.

As an apprentice, for me cleaning is now second nature. Those of you applying to the program for next year, take note: a lot of the time you are just like the Boy, fighting with the physics of mops and trash bags and cleaning products. But, much like drinking tea, although these tasks and skills are simple, you are asked to do them consistently at the precipice.

And what does it all add up to? An hour of absolute chaos and certain hilarity. I have never laughed more, nor watched with more admiration as Steve, Davey, Whit, Stephanie, Meredith, Jorge, and everyone else work to make this Mouse as effortlessly joyful as possible.