The Summer '99 collection is titled Vacancies. I ran into the word in two different contexts during the time I was working on the collection, and each time the meaning struck a familiar chord with the material I was writing. Vacancies touches on how we connect as people -- good, bad, at times not at all -- with each other and with ourselves.

My first encounter with vacancies was in March of this year, when I began work on the first pieces of the new collection. Having recently moved to a new place where I knew absolutely nobody, I realized something: As we age, we get more settled and secure in our relationships and seek nicely regulated frameworks in dealing with others: our family, our friends, our extended social circle. It takes a lot of time, effort and commitment to keep our ongoing relationships meaningful, so there are only so many slots in our lives we would want to fill. Wouldn't it be nice if our lives were so stable and complete that we'd never have to put up the vacancies sign? Vacancies denote that awkward, painful process of having to replace someone in our life whom we loved, didn't want to lose, yet still did. I kept thinking of vacancies as our cycle of loss, healing and renewal that we go through in order to have people in our lives who are meaningful to us. Vacancies work both ways: We may be the ones trying to fill the empty slots, or we can be the ones asking to be a part of someone else's life. There is the danger of hurt, insecurity and rejection on both sides of the process. Filling them requires a lot of effort and trust from both sides, and it made me sad to realize that's why we seem to take that chance on others less and less as we get older. We, as people are at our best when we're connected to each other¹. Maybe we shouldn't work so hard to avoid it.

My second encounter with vacancies was a few months later, during the final L.A. performance of The Last Session, a musical that had a profound influence on myself, as well as many others who saw it. Incredibly talented, dedicated people gave their best to the show and never held back.  For me, the most exciting experience was to watch their performances evolve during the six months the show spent in the L.A. area.  "The singer and the song, that's what we've become..."  During that time I was privileged to get to know many of them, and am intensely grateful for what they gave to their audience. It was at the production's farewell party that I realized what a wonderful, inexhaustible thing human creativity is. Even after everything that has been written, played, sung, and said throughout our history, even drowning in the proliferation of media, television, video, movies and the internet, there somehow still remain things for us to create and say that are original, worthwhile and profound. And we're not running out yet. There are still vacancies to be filled in our music, our literature, our art, in anything that requires the ability to convey a message that feels new and original. Many times that message can inspire others to create in turn, because we, creatively, are connected to each other¹. There will always be room for those who aspire to create and dream. So create! Dream! We have vacancies to fill.