Sometime in the late '80s a regional theatre producer asked me if I had a short play he could present at a local country club for a benefit. No budget. No set. No more than two actors. Nothing technically challenging. When he asked me, I said "Sure," even though I knew I'd have to write one to have one, because "Sure" is what I always said back then when anybody asked me if I had a play that could be produced. In fact, that's what I still answer when I'm asked that question. Trouble is, this guy asked me as I was about to begin serving as producer of a summer theatre season consisting of eight shows in eight weeks, which is what I did for a living back then. Eight weeks later, this guy reminded me I owed him a play and that it was to be presented in less than a month.

Fearless as I was back then, I told him not to worry. I then corralled a couple of my favorite young actors at the summer theatre and asked them if they wanted to be in a play of my own that I would direct. I told them that the play hadn't been written yet, that it needed to be rehearsed in less than three weeks' time, and that there would be no money involved. Being young actors, they said, "Sure!"

So, as I closed out the summer theatre season and arranged for the storage of the summer theatre tent and the cleaning of the summer theatre dormitory and rehabilitation of the summer theatre grounds and the dispersement of the summer theatre actors, technicians, designers and administrators, I tried to come up with some ideas for a one-act in which I could use my actor friends, Brian and Beth. The first idea I came up with was to call the two characters in the play "Brian" and "Beth," making it easier for them to remember whom they're talking to in the play, and easier for me to type the names when I put together the script. My second idea was to write a play about characters who were just like Brian and Beth. That way, the actors would have less acting to do and I wouldn't have to worry about whether Brian and Beth could pull off the characters. Plus, the two actors were distinctly different types. First of all, one was male and the other female. Always a good start. Beyond that, Brian was a plain-looking, somewhat introverted intellectual while Beth was a gorgeous, decidedly extroverted surface-thinker. Okay, I'll say it—a nerd and a cheerleader. I figured I'd put 'em on paper, see what might happen.

Well, what happened was my play Jerry Finnegan's Sister. Brian and Beth performed the one-act version on a Sunday afternoon for that country club audience and wowed 'em. Once an audience is wowed by a play, a playwright's responsibility is to find more wowable audiences for the play. So I did. And as I did, it became clear that these two characters—Brian Dowd and Beth Finnegan—had more to say than I was scrinching into one act. So I expanded the play to full-length and produced it professionally at New Century Theatre at Smith College. More wow. Dramatics magazine printed the play in full for its April '91 edition, prompting the Dramatic Publishing Company to include the play in its catalog in 1993. Since that time, my little play, created out of time constraints, personnel limitations and budgetary concerns, has been produced hundreds of times, in high schools and colleges and community theatres and professional theatres. It was even staged in Paris under the title Le Soeur De Jerry King, because, I guess, there are no French Finnegans.

I think the reason the play works is because it's a play in which the critical moment comes when the guy asks the girl, "Will you go out with me sometime?" The girl's response to that line always triggers a huge vocal response from the audience. That's because very, very few of us have lived life without putting or finding ourselves in that situation, when vulnerability is palpable, when the answer, simple as it may be, could mean the world.

My newest DPC play, Five Nickels, is a lot like JFS. Two more people, same culminating question. Except, this time, the two people are in their fifties.

Nothing changes.