Last night a fellow actor walked into the dressing room before the show. "My parents are here tonight," he said, and gestured to two elderly people standing by the backstage door. "Make sure you speak up so they can hear what you're saying." He dropped his bag by his dressing table and sighed. "Not that they'll know what in hell is going on anyway," he said as he walked back out to show them to their seats.
I noticed his parents sitting near the front of the theater, and I saw them smiling; they seemed to be having a good time, watching their son act silly (as we all do in this show). I didn't do anything special in the performance--I was actually feeling somewhat run-down, and I thought I had played the show a little flat. But people laughed and clapped, so all's well that ends well.
After the show, I walked into the lobby and found them waiting for their son, so I introduced myself. "Did you like the show?" I asked.
"Oh yes, very much," said the mother, smiling. "You did a very good job. But when you said your lines, you were very loud. I had to turn my hearing aids down."