Courtesy photo The cast of Merry Christmas, Dear Grandpa at the Alpena Civic Theatre performs the current production.

By J.E. Rose

“It’s opening night at the Alpena Civic Theatre for the spring program!” Or so I hear the voices in my head as I drive by the theatre on the way to Latitudes.

“We should probably see it…”

But why, exactly, are they doing a Christmas play in May?

Granted, winter has only been gone for about five days, collectively, but it still feels either way too late or way too soon to remember that Christmas is even a thing.

I invite my eleven-year-old daughter to accompany me and see what’s coming out of the oven at the Civic Theatre.

It’s a date.

We find our seats, and my daughter looks around before asking, in a voice not nearly quiet enough, “Why is everyone so old?”

After quickly glancing around with a face that could not disappear fast enough, I cynically remind her that prior generations used to find engagement in the real world, not just through screens.

She is not amused.

The play begins, and within the first five minutes, all the familiar characters from my own family Christmases have arrived.

Amber Hartley, played by Amanda Hulsey, is the obsessive-compulsive middle child (thirty-ish) who, of course, is hosting Christmas dinner in her new residence. She is excited and well prepared to execute the perfect Hartley family Christmas dinner and, at just the right moment, reveal some pressing and exciting news to her beloved, though domestically hazardous, family.

After asking for some assistance shoveling snow from the porch and being ever so begrudgingly denied by her younger sister Frankie, played by Katie Haines, and her older brother Keith, played by Matt Southwell, Amber finds herself returning home from the emergency room with two broken wrists.

Their mother, Marie, played by Julie Myers, offers to prepare Christmas dinner herself, but that plan is derailed by a sudden and nearly violent mutiny from nearly every person present — except, of course, her wise and ever-supportive parrot-husband, Al, played by Larry Johns.

Feeling obviously responsible for their hyper-compulsive and demanding sister’s unfortunate demise and devastated Christmas plans, Keith and Frankie step up to the plate and take their best swing at knocking this Christmas turkey out of the ballpark.

Which, of course, almost happens in the most literal sense. But wait. There’s more.

To add an element of combat to the mix, here comes Grandpa to critique every observable moment into submission.

Walter Hartley, played by Doug Haines, is clearly the glue that holds this family stuck to the walls at a safe distance from his swinging cane and snarky daggers. If he is not reminding everyone of his infallible ability to make sure every door is closed and locked, he is making sure they know they have definitely failed, fallen short, or otherwise disappointed his expectations for intelligent life.

We did not know what to expect when we walked in, but we certainly were not expecting to laugh so hard, or so often.

Each character unfolds with their own brilliant nuance and authentic place at every family’s holiday dinner table.

Amber Hartley’s unnerving demands and expectations, contrasted with Frankie and Keith’s lackadaisical and uninspired participation as subject siblings, create an obvious precedent for unavoidable conflict and travesty… also known as comedy.

Marie and Al are no strangers to family conflict with their darling “children” and clearly know how to deal with these situations: by avoiding them and staying in their respective lanes. But Marie also has an agenda of her own, which she executes with a refined manipulative brilliance. It is clear where Amber gets it from but clearly, Marie has had a little more time to polish the blade.

And Al?

Well, let’s just say few characters in theatre are as broken and yet undefeated as poor Al. But Walter, in his late though golden years, is undoubtedly the life of this family.

Doug Haines gives a brilliant performance, capturing the wit and timing that can only come from way too many years of being annoyed. His physical, intellectual, and emotional portrayal of Walter Hartley lands so perfectly that you almost wish you could bring the character home with you, at a safe distance of course, considering his deft acuity and willingness to swing that cane.

He embodies the Christmas season with Ebenezer Scrooge as his spirit animal.

Amid the petty bickering, sharp puns, verbal stabs, and near-ultraviolence, something happens in the home of the Hartleys this Christmas (in May). Beneath the chaos and flying food, a brief and gentle remembrance of dignity, honor, and family. The endearing moments which, though few and far between, are ultimately redeeming.

By the end of the play, it is clear why we needed this brief and fleeting moment of Christmas with the Hartleys: to remind us of what we so easily forget in the spring and summer of our lives, and of the things Christmas is always so ready to share with us.

As I left the theatre with my daughter, I thought about the Walters, Maries, and Als of Christmases past. I thought about what my daughter asked when we first arrived:

“Why is everyone so old?”

And the answer came to me.

Because they are still here.

With all their experience, wisdom, bitterness, humor, and grace.

And we should spend as many dinners with them as we can, for as long as our impatient and unmotivated youth can suffer the swinging canes, the sharp remarks, and those rare moments of subtle wisdom only a person of Walter’s years can carry.