So, today is the Bard's birthday ... sort of. We know when he was christened (April 26, 1564), but christenings then were not on the day of birth. So we've (somewhat arbitrarily) picked the 23rd for The Day.
Four hundred and fifty-five years ago. Not too many folks live that long--none, for course, physically; few in other ways. Those who have endured in the public memory for hundreds--even thousands--of years (some for positive reasons--Shakespeare; others, for negative ones--Attila the Hun) have done so because of their notable--or regrettable (or downright heinous)--behavior.
William Shakespeare was something of a celebrity in his day. A popular London playwright and poet. Thirty-six plays are in the First Folio (1623)--and some of them (The Tempest among them) we would have no copy of if his friends had not published the Folio after his death in 1616. (He co-wrote some others; some may be lost.)
As I've written here and elsewhere, I was not an early (or easy) fan of the Bard. My dad, who could be waggish, liked to joke that his real name was Billy Wiggleshaft--maybe hoping that joking would send me off in search of Hamlet. It didn't.
I had to read Julius Caesar and Macbeth in high school. Couldn't do it.
Had to read Macbeth again in English 101 at Hiram College. Couldn't do it.
And even though I was an English major, I did not take a Shakespeare class in college--or graduate school. At Hiram, the professor who taught the course (Dr. John Shaw) was on sabbatical the year I would have taken it. Back then, I was highly pleased with myself for avoiding the Bard. But the real reason? Fear.
But I wasn't too worried: I was going to teach in a middle school ... no use for the Bard there, right?
Wrong.
I somehow slowly entered the world of the Bard--and by the 1980s was teaching The Taming of the Shrew and then Much Ado About Nothing until the year I retired from public school teaching (January 1997). Oh, and I also took busloads and carloads of kids to see his plays in and around Cleveland throughout those years.
In 1989 I directed a production of The Merry Wives of Windsor at Aurora High School and, a few years later, took some cast members to Washington, D. C., to see that play at the Folger Shakespeare Library.
Later, at Western Reserve Academy (2001-11), I taught Hamlet for about ten years to the juniors (all of whom had to read that play). And I loved doing so ...
Meanwhile, Joyce and I were driving all over the place, seeing as many of the plays as we could. And we ended up seeing them all--Richard II was the last (and a wonder it was at Shakespeare and Company in Lenox, Mass.).
I've memorized a lot of the Bard's work, too--famous speeches from some of the plays (yes, "To be or not to be" is among them), about twenty-five sonnets or so.
And I have to say: I remained dazzled by the dude. Every time I see one of his plays (and, by the way, every time I've taught one), I notice--I "get"--things that I somehow missed before.
As I said, I taught Hamlet ten years in a row, and every year--yes, every year--I saw things I'd missed--and often it was because one of my students had noticed it first. (If you wanna teach, you'd better be a willing learner, too!)
Anyway, Happy Birthday, Bard. Four hundred and fifty-five years later, you're still making a difference. The list of human beings who have done so is a very short one.
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