Last night, my daughter and I headed over to Hugo House. The building isn’t closing just yet, and the house as a creative community will live on in a temporary location, but this was the official celebration good-bye gathering.
We wrote on the walls, we read what others wrote. We watched David Lasky drawing. I added exclamation points underneath the Viva ZAPP that someone else had scrawled. I wrote in the Winslow room, where I had taken many classes and taught a couple, where I found a publisher at an event called “Finding Your Publisher in the 21st Century.”
I stood in the theater where I had performed my own choreography when the house was New City Theater. I couldn’t get into the kitchen, which had been the dressing room in those days.
I saw some friends and missed many others. Walking through the narrow and very crowded hallways, leaning on the railing down the steep stairs, I came close to crying.
I’m not a good picture taker, but I wanted at least one of the house, and my daughter insisted that I should be in it. Thank you, old house with your ghosts, for being my creative home for so many years. The end of one era means the beginning of the next, and I’m grateful that the heart of Hugo House—its students, its teachers, its community—will keep beating.