Sympathizing with Monsters by 10-Minute Play Playwright Gabriel Dean
An essay on Fugue for Amorous Tornadoes…
From a few thousand yards, a slow tornado dancing on a grassy prairie is inspiring. Sometimes though, tornados show up unannounced like alcoholic uncles. These drunk giants stumble through small towns that are filled with executives at lunch counters, fresh graduates making plans, couples spreading mulch in the back yard. The storms drag and bluster their way through our neighborhoods and make us aware of how fragile everything really is.
A few weeks ago, my wife, our two dogs and I cruised along I-44, making a trek from Austin, TX to Bloomington, IL. We were driving through that quiet light, the green and ominous peace that seems to occur before and after a hellshaking storm. In our bones, we both knew something was wrong. To our right, we saw what we’d later find out was the Joplin tornado. The fat cloud sat on the horizon like a sulking child. When the hail came, we got off the interstate and parked underneath a bridge. We parked the car toward the western light, facing Kansas, ready to outrun anything that dared race us. On the radio, a DJ reported what sounded like coverage from a war zone. We were 10 miles from being swept up in a storm the size of a mountain. IF we hadn’t stopped to pee earlier…IF the dogs didn’t need to stretch their legs every two hours…IF we hadn’t dawdled in the candy aisle at the Flying J in Oklahoma.
IF.
I sat under that bridge, mesmerized by the sky, thinking about IF. IF can be dumb luck, coincidence, fate, destiny, whatever you want to call it. Thinking about the tiny 10 miles between my family and the horror just down the road, on that day IF became a significant two letter word in my vocabulary. My sympathy goes out to those who are suffering through this year’s tornado season.
In Fugue for Amorous Tornados I wanted to playfully put a human face on a frightening force of nature, not to trivialize the human suffering they can cause. Sympathizing with monsters is difficult, but—I think—necessary. It’s empathy and our imaginative force that helps us understand. I’ve come to think of tornados as whirling Grendels, reminding us that no matter how much we want it to be strong and permanent, order is fleeting and fragile. They make us strongly consider the IF. Do tornados know their power? Do they care? Do they feel love? Like Grendel, I think tornados are terribly lonely. Maybe it’s that intense loneliness that causes them to behave so badly.
~GJD
Ten-Minute Play Fugue for Amorous Tornadoes is part of the Lovers and Friends cycle, playing June 11, 19, 24, 29, and July 2.
