Dear friends,
We’re finally here: our 2017–18 season is underway. As you’ve heard we’re going Inside/Out, bringing our events to neighborhoods across the city while our First Hill home is being renovated. Town Hall’s already at a full sprint—we don’t really know another speed—but I want to take a moment to thank all of you for your support and thoughts over these last months, and to update you on my health and role here at Town Hall.
In May I shared that I was dealing with a complicated cancer diagnosis and would step back from many of my day-to-day functions to focus on treatment. The support I received from every direction—at home from Barbara and my daughters, from friends far and wide, colleagues at work and in the cultural community, and from so many of you Town Hall members—has been humbling. And I promise you it has had the power to heal.
Throw in a brand new targeted therapy/wonder drug, and I’m happy to share that my progress has been remarkable. I’m back at my desk and life has returned to a version of normalcy–only everything feels heightened. Bigger. Brighter. I am so lucky to live in this city, within this community, and to have Town Hall as a place for my energy.
I’m approaching my 13th year here, and we’ve been planning our major renovation and Inside/Out season for six of those years—it’s all starting right now, and I’m not going to miss a moment of it.
My doctors have concurred that work can be an important part of my healing, so I’ve resumed all (OK, most) of my usual duties. I’ll make as many events as I can, offstage and on, and you’ll see me on the occasional hard hat construction tour. You’ll continue to hear from me in spaces like this, and I might make an occasional appearance in our podcasts. Once I figure out how Stitchr works.
This is a once-ever moment in the life of Town Hall and in our community. And I have never felt luckier, or been more grateful, to share this work with you.
See you Inside/Out,
Wier
PS: Two other proofs that human energy and will is a mighty thing—I’m nearly finished with Jo Marchant’s provocative 2016 Cure, a cautious, data-fueled inquiry into the power and limitations of the mind’s role in healing. And I’m just beginning to live with Pieces of Sky, the exquisite, fragile-but-purposeful new record by our 2015 Artist in Residence Tomo Nakayama. “Only so much that we can do, All we have is our given moment, Hit the lights when we clear this room, Leave it cleaner than when we found it…”