A Love Letter to Rocky Horror
I was seventeen the first time I stepped into the wild, eccentric, and unapologetically bold world of The Rocky Horror Show. Springfield Contemporary Theatre had called me back for the role of Janet, and truthfully, I didn’t know much about the show. I remember sitting with my dad, unsure of what to expect, and asking him for advice. He smiled and told me, “Go for it. It’ll be the most fun you’ll ever have.”
He was right.
That production became transformative for me—not just as a performer, but as a person. Playing Janet, I found my voice. I discovered what it meant to lean into my weirdness, embrace my own boldness, and allow myself to feel both vulnerable and powerful. The world of Rocky Horror is like no other; it’s a safe space to be outrageous, weird, sexy, and free. And for me, that safety net opened the door to a deeper confidence that carried into every part of my life.
Adding to the magic, my dad designed the artwork for that production. He was an incredible artist and graphic designer, and to this day I can still see his creative touch on the posters and graphics. When he passed away suddenly in 2022, Rocky Horror took on a new layer of meaning for me. Every time I return to the show, I think of him—his encouragement, his artistry, and his unshakable belief that this world was meant to be enjoyed in full color.
Finding My Home at High Tide
After that life-changing first experience, I jumped at the chance to audition when High Tide announced Rocky Horror for their 2023 season. Returning to Janet felt like coming home. That production not only gave me another opportunity to live inside this character I love, but also introduced me to an organization that shared my passion for bold, fearless theatre. When the show closed, I was invited to join the High Tide staff as Executive Director—a role that has been one of the greatest honors of my life.
I reprised Janet again in 2024, and this year, I’ll take my final bow in the role as we celebrate Rocky Horror’s 50th anniversary.
Why This Anniversary Matters
The 50th anniversary of The Rocky Horror Show is a milestone that carries weight not just for die-hard fans, but for theatre history. Richard O’Brien’s rock musical first premiered in 1973 at London’s Royal Court Theatre, a strange little production that nobody knew would go on to become a global phenomenon. The show’s evolution into a cult classic was cemented when The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975) found its place as the ultimate midnight movie, still screened with shadow casts and audience participation to this day.
Fun fact: Rocky Horror holds the record for the longest-running release in film history. Somewhere, at any given time, it’s being performed, screened, or celebrated.
At High Tide, carrying on this tradition each year feels like more than programming—it’s a promise to create a space where people can come together and unapologetically celebrate their truest selves. For our 50th anniversary production, that mission feels even bigger. It’s not just about honoring a legacy show; it’s about creating a space where weirdness is welcome, where freedom of expression is celebrated, and where community thrives in all its messy, joyful chaos.
Why It’s Personal
For me, this production is a full-circle moment. It ties together my beginnings as a teenage performer, my relationship with my dad, my journey as an artist, and my role now as a leader at High Tide. Every note I sing, every time I step on stage in Janet’s shoes, I carry him with me. I know he’d be proud—not just of the productions, but of the space we’ve created for others to find the same joy, release, and courage that Rocky Horror gave me when I was seventeen.
As I prepare to take my final bow as Janet, I’m filled with gratitude. Gratitude for my dad’s wisdom, for the friends and family this show has brought me, and for High Tide’s commitment to keeping this tradition alive.
So, as we mark Rocky Horror’s 50th year, my hope is that you join us—not just to watch, but to participate. Come yell, laugh, sing, and let yourself be free. Because if there’s one thing this show has taught me, it’s this: life is too short not to dance in your underwear, sing at the top of your lungs, and celebrate every strange, beautiful part of yourself.
Here’s to fifty years of doing the Time Warp—and to many more to come.
