This month’s featured writing is from Steve Benner: My Brief Life as Nachum the Beggar.
Steve was born in the New York City borough of Queens, grew up in Jacksonville, Florida, and now lives in Boise, Idaho, where he worked as an architect and raised his family. Steve and his wife moved to Idaho because they wanted a work-life balance that included time in the outdoors for them and their two daughters.
Steve still enjoys outdoor adventures, building kayaks to paddle, and long-distance cycling. He plays music, had a brief mid-life career in a rock-and-roll band, and at the age of 75 tried musical theater for the first time. New challenges keep him young in spirit. He has enjoyed his first semester in the Personal Writing SIG, putting thoughts on paper and hearing stories from his interesting and talented classmates.
My Brief Life as Nachum the Beggar by Steve Benner
(Osher on Demand, June 2026)
Someone asked me why I waited until I was 75 to try out for musical theater. I said, “I don’t know.” I truly wish I had done it 40 or 50 years ago; I’d be pretty good at it by now. This experience showed me a couple of things: you are never too old to try new things, and trying new and challenging things will keep you from getting “old.”
For my tryout I worked hard to learn the iconic song, “If I Were a Rich Man” from the musical Fiddler on the Roof, mimicking the movements of Topol, who played Tevye the Dairyman in the movie I watched five or six times. I surprised myself with my strong singing and got applause from the judges at the tryout. The choreographer even said, “at least he can move,” which must have referred to others who’d auditioned and were statuesque, but not in a good way.
I learned a lot in four months of rehearsals and performances. I had to relearn how to read music, having abandoned the practice 60 years ago after I gave up on the trombone and took up the guitar, playing mostly by ear. I learned that musical theater is more than just singing and dancing; it’s real acting in front of a live audience. This local cast had some amazing actors who can also sing and dance. Finally, I learned that when Jillian, the assistant director, told the cast to really get into our characters and to write a bio, she didn’t mean I should write a bio of my character, Nachum the Beggar. She meant to write a bio about me and my acting experiences. Since I had absolutely no acting experience, I created a bio of Nachum the Beggar from my imagination. It was definitely more interesting than my acting bio was.
Fiddler on the Roof takes place in Russia in the fictional Jewish village of
Anatevka. Tevya is trying to marry off his five daughters, and he promises the oldest to Lazar Wolf, the village butcher, who is 30 years her senior. It doesn’t go well for Lazar. It’s a serious play about the hard life and struggles Jews had in 19th-century Russia, but with a few humorous moments, one of which is delivered by me, Nachum, the village beggar.
In the first scene, I come on stage with a tin cup. I say, “Alms for the poor,
alms for the poor.” Lazar Wolf says, “Here Nachum, here’s one kopek.”
Nachum says, “One kopek? Last week you gave me two kopeks.” Lazar says, “I had a bad week.” Nachum says, “So if you had a bad week, why should I suffer?” That line generated big laughs from the audience. It was my less-than-15-minutes of fame, but if you added up the minutes of all five performances, they might total 15. My friends and family got to see me perform, and I have the memories, so I’m satisfied.
Because I had no bio of my own, I wrote a fictional bio of Nachum the Beggar to get into the character and do some real acting. I tried to engage in method acting, an approach where actors use their own memories, emotions, and sensory experiences to create a deeply authentic performance. But I’m not Jewish, I have never been to Russia, or I have never been a beggar, although I sometimes ask for seconds of dessert. So I made up a story about Nachum the Beggar and tried to feel the emotions he might have felt.
I thought the story was quite good, full of drama, mystery, and even some
scandal, but no nudity, drugs, or sexual content. The assistant director was not amused; at least she pretended not to be. I delivered my lines well, but I’m not sure the method acting had time to kick in with just three lines.