PLAY: The Civil War

I have never been the slightest bit interested in American History, so when my friend told me the name of the play he was in, The Civil War, I was somewhat less than ecstatic. However, he has the most beautiful voice I have ever heard; I would walk through the desert to see him sing.
The Civil War, though , was written by the composer of one of my very favorite plays, The Scarlet Pimpernel, and plus it featured Merrill Osmond and Joseph Paur (the guy from Rigoletto), so I convinced Danielle to go with me last Saturday. It was not really a play, more like a concert, or better yet, a Civil War musical experience. The songs were deep and powerful, and even though there were no central characters or plot lines, I was sincerely moved by the poignant stories of these ordinary and yet noble people.
I felt the excitement as men enlisted to be part of the Union or Rebel Armies, the confidence, the arrogance, but also their resolve, strength, and the power of men banded by commonality. I knew that they were not afraid to fight for what they believed in, but I also knew that they had no idea what they were getting into. I heard the nostalgia in a voice whose homeland served as a battle ground and ran red with the blood of both armies. I saw the nobility and courage of the generals who led the armies, knowing that the blood of the soldiers killed was on their hands, yet having enough faith in their cause to make that sacrifice.
I was present as a dying son penned his last words to his father, and I felt sorrow for a boy whose life was stolen. I felt the pain and pity in the voice of a nurse who cared for a nameless boy who died in her arms. She said they all looked the same, whether wearing Blue or Grey, and I knew it was true, and we both wondered what this conflict was all about, how brother could fight against brother and kill each other because of their hatred.
I mourned with a young wife when she bid her husband goodbye, and as they corresponded, and finally, when she received the news that he had been killed. I saw real tears on her face and mine, but I knew that she would was not broken: the nobility of strong women was evident in her every move.
And finally, I followed the stories of slaves whose strong, black chorus, the words of which were so powerful and moving that I couldn't help but rejoice and mourn simultaneously. I was there when Frederick Douglass spoke with Abraham Lincoln, and with those waiting outside to hear whether or not they could finally be free. I wish you could hear the music that accompanies these lyrics. It is powerful and brave and strong.

"Look at these hands.
I stole them from my master,
Look through these eyes,
Imagine what they've seen

Look at these words:
"To God, all men are equal"!
Write them again,
In letters black and strong"

The tragedy of the situation is beyond words. No amount of sympathy, no recommence can be too great for the hiddeous misdeeds pressed upon this race, who are strong and faithful. These lines were particularly piercing:

"I remember the old ones would tell me
'Bout a land that lay over the water
So far, far away
Where they said we had kingdoms
They said we had kingdoms"

We didn't just steal these people from a lesser life. They were Kings once, of empires far more advanced, and far larger, than any other. The enslaved chorus was beautiful and tragic, strong but resolved, waiting only for the slightest enablement.
It was so moving, in fact, that I have spent every spare moment looking for a recording of the original musical. When I get it, I expect everyone to be as moved as I was. Until then, here is a list of lyrics.