Dear Perth:

I kind of don’t want to write this letter. What is that quote, that wretched quote, about all good things coming to an end? If that quote was an ant, boy, would I give it a good dose of Raid. Perth, we have been living in your beautiful town for over a month now. We came from places all over Canada to act in the Classic Theatre Festival’s Blithe Spirit this summer. Sure, we’ve seen and met a lot of towns in our careers. But there’s something about this one. Like the fact that people say hello when you walk down the street. I’m a Cape Bretoner who has called Toronto home for five years now. But something dies a little inside when I have to force myself not to acknowledge another human being as I stroll down Big Smoke streets. Here in Perth, not only will people say hello but they’ll haul you over to have a glass of wine and offer you their bike if you need it! Perth, I found my Cape Breton spirit again in the generosity of your people. It’s going to be really hard to go back to a place where you have to shut off that part of your being when the show ends August 1.

Because what I’ve re-learned by living here, Perth, is that the little things are the big ones. The fact that at O’Reilly’s when my soda’s ice starts to melt, the waitress notices it and replaces it for free because she “hates it like that” herself. The moment when we all pile into the Red Fox after the show and Kathy greets us with a roll of her eyes and a grin, already lining up the drinks she knows we like. And the billeters who have hosted us actors -- do you know how lucky we’ve been? They have baked for us, driven us places, reminded us to take umbrellas when it’s raining, thrown us dinner parties, inspired us and cared about us. My billeter gave me a special pin the opening night of our play. I put it immediately in the pocket of the costume I wore as the clumsy maid. Each night, before I went on stage, I would feel it in my pocket and know that even if tonight was the night no one laughed and the audience got up and left after they threw rotten vegetables at us, when I walked out the stage door that night, someone who thought I was somebody special enough to deserve that gift was waiting for me at home. And that, that makes all the difference.

If you’ve ever had a time in life that later on, when someone mentioned it, you sit back and say, “Ahhh,” with a little smile on your face, this was mine. I was blessed with an opportunity to work with storytellers who pushed me to raise my own standards daily---- both the actors in my cast and our director, Laurel Smith. I have spend much of this month listening, learning and asking a million questions as I watched brilliant stage moments constructed through talent and perspiration. My “best” had a new meaning each day as I watched these artists create and I have been changed forever as a storyteller because of it.

I’m going to miss swimming under the weeping willows at Stewart Park, canoeing down the river, singing to myself as I traipse along wildflower-covered paths and the incredibly starry skies that have dazzled me every night. People who floored me with their generosity of spirit, storytellers who inspired me with their incredibly precise artistry, a landscape that boasted a postcard view every ten steps and a feeling that I’ve recovered a part of my humanity I somehow lost in the concrete jungle. Perth, you’re really something. If I had a special pin to give to a town, you’d get it. Keep it in your pocket as a reminder. I know I will.

Cheers and love,

Lindsay Kyte