Picture this. A kitchen in Miami, Florida on a hot May, Saturday morning, 1950. The mom, at the ironing board, pressing her husband's shirts, wanting to help the daughter, 13, depressed and lost, having been excluded from sororities she didn't even know existed outside of the high school she was going to attend in September. The mom: "Does your school have a drama club? I once did a play in my school."This small question from a desperate mother feeling the pain of her adolescent daughter began the long, but not so direct, journey to my life and my book and the opportunity to live in the amazingly encompassing world of the theater. The father always said, "You just have to live long enough." I say, "As long as there are actors and playwrights making theater, there is a ray of hope for us all."