Another one of my favorite memories in Orchard theatre was the 7th grade musical, Meet Me in St. Louis, where I played the supporting lead role of the youngest Smith sister, Tootie. The character was mischievous, dramatic, and hilarious— I loved playing her, and the rehearsal process is one of my fondest memories. We’d sneak off to get tea from the teacher’s lounge because we had to “take care of our voices,” but I think we just enjoyed the thrill of getting to run around after hours. This also coincided with my first show at React, where I learned that half of acting is reacting. Everything that happens onstage is happening to your character for the very first time, so you have to react in real time to the events as if you haven’t rehearsed the scenes over and over. This lesson, in my opinion, is what earned me compliments on my performance as Tootie, despite her being a smaller role. Parents also got a kick out of me standing on a chair and singing, “I Was Drunk Last Night, Dear Mother.” It was the first time that I really felt like I was good at something.






WHAT INSPIRED YOU TO JOIN REACT’S BOARD, AND HOW DOES ITS MISSION ALIGN WITH YOUR VALUES?



CAN YOU SHARE MORE ABOUT THE CHALLENGES YOU’VE FACED AND HOW THEATRE HAS BEEN A SOURCE OF STRENGTH FOR YOU?
In the fall of my 6th grade year, my mom was diagnosed with stage 3 breast cancer. I was suddenly faced with the idea that my mom might not be around forever, which had me anxiety-ridden over my own mortality, too. She went into remission the summer of 2013, but my family was still learning how to move forward after our world had been turned upside down. I was also, as many pre-pubescent teens are, extremely uncomfortable in my own skin. I signed up for my fourth or fifth Orchard summer camp play, and I relished stepping into a character’s skin every day. It was a welcome reprieve from reality. I was twiddling my thumbs at breakfast one morning when I had a jarring thought that is still seared into my brain— “I would rather be anyone else right now.” That thought kind of led to, “I want to be onstage, in my script, being my character.” In July, I asked my mom to sign me up for acting classes. She gave me two websites to look at: Young Actors Theatre (now React) and Indiana Repertory Theatre. I picked Young Actors Theatre because I thought their website looked cooler. What a flippant decision-making process for something that would become so integral to who I am as a person 12 years later.

Eibhlin Ewald was new to Orchard in 2008, our 2nd grade year. Our first conversation consisted of me asking to brush her hair because it looked knotty. I guess she didn’t mind my rudeness too much, because we became the closest of friends after that. She was the most unique, bubbly, creative, and love-in-abundance person I’ve had the opportunity to know. She was tough as nails and unafraid to be herself. She loved her people to the core and had no problem expressing it. She challenged my thoughts and ideas (in the best way) and could articulate hers in a way that many 20-somethings I know can’t. Our friendship was deeply integral to my development and an important part of who I am today.

On June 22nd, 2015, she was diagnosed with Acute Myeloid Leukemia (AML). 7 months later to the day, her parents called mine asking them to bring me to Cincinnati Children’s Hospital, where she was being treated, as soon as possible. I was pulled out of math class and made the 2-hour drive to say goodbye. Eibhlin passed that afternoon, surrounded by her loving family and friends. She had just turned 15.

One of my favorite memories is her iconic rendition of “Carry on Wayward Son” at our 8th grade talent show. She had bright red lipstick on and kicked over a chair like a true rockstar. It was electric. I think about that every time I hear the song. It’s a fond memory that encapsulates who she was as a person: unapologetically authentic, bold beyond belief, and a true artist. She was a great friend to me. I miss her, as do all who knew and love her.

Maggie and Eibhlin after her first React show in the fall of 2013.

The next day was the opening of my fifth show with React. It was my first one that Eibhlin wasn’t going to be in the audience for. A few kids had heard what happened, and one named Lucy caught me when I showed up at the theater early and asked me to follow her. She held my hand as she pulled me backstage, asking if she could brush my hair. When we sat, she said, “Tell me about Eibhlin.” She offered me the space to talk about someone I had loved and lost, instead of letting me walk around and pretend like I wasn’t distraught. I now recognize how insanely important that space is for someone who is grieving, because the shock of losing a loved one brings your world to a halt. When you see other people going about their lives as if yours isn’t crumbling, it drives you bonkers.

As I talked about Eibhlin, other kids from the program started filtering into the room to listen to me. She’d come to the cast party for my previous show in May, but most of them had never met her. They knew and loved me enough to listen anyways. They laughed when I laughed and comforted me when I cried, all while Lucy lovingly brushed my hair. Before our show that evening, Justin and Artistic Director Georgeanna Smith-Wade approached me asking if I’d want to dedicate the show to her. I went out in front of at least 200 people and told them what had happened and that this show was for her. I missed a line during the performance because I was thinking about her. I still kick myself for it. I was 14. 

Eibhlin and Maggie at Orchard's Winter Pageant in 2014, before taking the stage as 8th grade angels.

The point of that story is, it wasn’t 100% theatre that saved me. The ability to express myself and channel my energy into something positive was obviously a huge life saver, but I believe that my true source of strength was the community that I found at React. I had collaborators, friends, and mentors that were willing to let me lean on them and ride the wave. They provided me with the opportunity to heal through art. I threw myself into the program after that. In addition to performing in the mainstage shows twice a year, I co-wrote and performed in several one-off performances for events and organizations around the city, and I traveled to schools to perform original social issue shows like The Court vs. Bullying and The Court vs. Heroin. I ended up sitting on the Teen Advisory Board and became the president my senior year of high school. My parents say that how React helped me during one of the most difficult times of my life was an experience worth a million bucks. I’m quick to agree.

 

Justin loves to reiterate this quote to me from his former teacher and React’s founder, Charlotte Kaufman. “Once you decide that you’re going to be an actor, no one can talk you out of it.” That’s the first step, in my opinion. Committing to the life of an artist.

Secondly, I’d say that right now is the perfect time to get involved in theatre or any other creative activity. It’s a little easier when you’re in elementary and middle school than it is when you are an adult. Sign up for summer camp or a semester-long class. If you’re scared, just know that everything you want is on the other side of that fear. You’ll never regret trying, but you will regret not trying. 

Thirdly, I would start consuming as much art and knowledge as possible. It doesn’t need to be theatre related. Like I said, acting (and art in general) is about experiencing and investigating the human condition. You can only do that if you are familiar with people, their perspectives, and what makes them tick. Read auto-biographies, plays, comics, fiction novels, the classics– anything you can get your hands on. Listen to all types of music. Write down your dreams. See local plays and new movies. Stroll through an art museum. Spend time in nature. Listen to strangers' life stories. Practice presence through these things.

Orchard cross country in 2014, Maggie’s first day at Orchard in 2005, and performing in the Sound of Music Orchard musical in 2012.

The past few days, I’ve been struggling with writing this last step: Trust your intuition. It’s annoyingly vague and wasn’t clicking for me. That is, until I just finished the chapter “Setting” in Rick Rubin’s book, The Creative Act: A Way of Being. To the best of his ability, he has followed his intuition when making career moves, even if others recommended against his decisions. He finishes the chapter saying, “Interference may also come from the voices within. The ones in your head that murmur you’re not talented enough, your idea isn’t good enough, art isn’t a worthwhile investment of your time, the result won’t be well-received, you’re a failure if the creation isn’t successful. It’s helpful to turn those voices down so you can hear the chimes of the cosmic clock ring, reminding you it’s time. Your time to participate.”

I think that encapsulates a lot of what I’m trying to say here. Your honest and raw intuition will rarely, if ever, steer you wrong. Especially when it’s executed with pure intentions. Get rid of the voices in your head that are trying to veer you off your path and follow what your soul is aching for. It will open up a whole new world of unbridled authenticity, awareness, and fulfillment.