Uta, London Who's Afraid of Virgina Wolf

I am Letty’s friend. I am Uta’s friend. 

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We had several visits between Edinburgh and London she, my mother, and I going to events at the Edinburgh International Arts Festival and I visiting her at her Baker Street flat in London. On one of those occasions, we went to see Ms. Hagen in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf.

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That night she transformed into Uta for me. She and the part were perfect for one another. Backstage afterwards, I think all we did was say hello and hug. For the first time, I stood speechless before her.

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Afterwards, we went to The White Elephant for dinner. Preordered as usual, the bowl of Uta’s strawberries arrived as soon as we sat down. I ate some before I spoke.

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Uta, I was so deeply moved by your performance I could not utter a word. So powerful…the play, your acting. 

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Her face lit up  “That is exactly the response I always want, but so few offer it. Thank you.” No longer just Letty’s mother, at that moment Uta and I became friends. Although I’d seen her in several plays, for me, she never was an actress. Later in the nest years, the rest of the 1960s through the ‘90s, I stopped to visit her when I went to New York. We sat in the familiar living room, Uta and I drinking 7 and 7, as we talked about books, our own writing, and exchanged our latest publications. We didn’t talk about the theater because I was never a part of that. Maybe we sometimes talked about teaching because we both taught, she in theater and I in special education. Sometimes we talked about family but not often. One time she told me what an excellent mother Letty was.

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Fast forward once again another few decades when Uta’s granddaughter and Letty’s daughter, Teresa, was no longer my son’s occasional childhood friend. 

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How often does one get to be close friends across three generations within the same family? It all began at the small rectangular glass top dining room table in a room barely big enough for the table and four people. 

Abigail Calkin

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