BWW Tribute: Joseph Parra, An Appreciation

"I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel." --Maya Angelou.

I thought of that oft-quoted Maya Angelou line soon after I first heard of Joseph Parra's passing. Because it's so true, especially regarding him. Joseph made you feel special. He made you feel good about life. He made you smile.

I first saw Joseph Parra onstage over a decade ago. The show: August: Osage County, easily one of the finest local productions of the past ten or so years. It was a show peppered with the best of the best of Florida actors, and Joseph could stand out even amid that talented assemblage.

When I started my gig reviewing for Broadway World three years later, in 2014, I was able to write about him frequently, starting with The Chosen. Here is my review of Joseph's performance in that shattering play at American Stage: "When he's onstage, it's as if the world stops. He is bigger than life, saying more in silence than most actors say in full monologues. But when he speaks, we listen. Near the end of Act 1 he delivers a harrowing speech on the Holocaust that is filled with such understandable pain and power....Parra has a scene near the show's end that is one of the most beautiful I have ever seen in decades of theatre-going. I won't give anything away, but it is a moment so potently written and brilliantly performed that it had me and the audience members around me tearing up. I am not an easy crier at plays, but there is nothing you can do at this moment but surrender to your tear ducts. In fact, it is so overwhelming that I worry about anyone who doesn't tear up here."

In other reviews, I would mention that he would "shine" (Laughter on the 23rd Floor) or that he was "extraordinarily likable" (Inherit the Wind). That was true of him offstage as well. Truth be told, as great and memorable as he was onstage--a truly remarkable actor who performed brilliantly in countless plays and musicals--his legacy is actually the joy he spread offstage. He would greet you with a big smile and a hug. He became a fixture in the audience of various venues, and you could always hear that laugh, that hearty Joseph Parra laugh.

As chair of Jr. Thespian district 11 (Pinellas-Pasco-Hernando-Citrus Counties), I would ask him to adjudicate middle school students ages 11-14 at our festival. He loved doing it because he could spread that joy--the joy of being in the arts, the joy that galvanized his life, the joy that absolutely beamed from him--to a new generation. His critiques of young performers were so positive, heartfelt, lively. He loved giving back.

He may have been a hard-working actor, but he also reviewed shows in lovely (always positive) rants and gushes that he posted on Facebook. Did he ever say anything negative in his many, many local theatre reviews? As far as I can tell, the answer is no, he did not. He didn't have a negative bone in his body, so why would he write a negative response to play, no matter how much it may have deserved it? His role was to lift us up, for his readers to get off their duffs and to experience live theatre, to celebrate local stages the way he did as an actor and as an audience member. And his reviews didn't just focus on the main actors or plotlines; he would shout out stage managers and the behind-the-scenes folk who made the magic happen.

I was honored that, as a judge, he selected A Necessary Conversation (featuring 11:11 by Deb Kelley and 47 Reasons to Live by me) as the Critic's Choice winner of Powerstories' Voices of Truth contest last year.

His knowledge of cinema was second to none, encyclopedic, and he celebrated horror movies and little-known films so far out in the cult atmosphere that probably not even Martin Scorsese or Quentin Tarantino knew of some of them.

Whenever I saw Joseph in person, he would always ask in a sort of purr, "How's my baby?" He was referring to my Boston Terrier, Ike. An animal lover, he loved hearing updates about the antics of my fur baby. And he told so many terrific tales. Whenever he would sign off on a Facebook post, he would do it with those two words that I will always associate with him: "BIG KISS!"

Joseph passed away from lung and kidney cancer last Friday morning, March 4th, at the age of 68. For the past few months, he chronicled his struggles on Facebook; he was starkly honest but he never lost that signature affirmative spark. Our Tampa Bay theatre community, which is a pretty tight group, is a much sadder place without his joie de vivre. The outpouring of so many people on social media about Joseph's death is staggering; he touched so many lives, all of them talking about his joy, his encouraging nature, his lovely spirit. And how special he made us all feel.

I wish the world could emulate his kindness.

So here's to you, Uncle Joe; BIG KISS, dear soul!

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