Levon Helm would have been impressed.
If you don’t know who that is, stop reading now.
And don’t ever call for any reason.
As a founding member of The Band, Helm is a Rock N’ Roll Hall of Famer, but he also has numerous acting credits, often portraying gritty, time-hardened men—either as a blind man with a radio in “The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada” or as Ted Webb, Loretta Lynn’s father, in “The Coal Miner’s Daughter”—his lines delivered in a disarming, down-home Arkansas drawl; he also narrated “The Right Stuff.”

It was Helm, in fact, who Mark “Tiger” Edmonds channeled during last week’s run of “Fool For Love,” a bizarre, incestuous play written by acclaimed actor Sam Shepard. The Saint Leo University production was directed by Dave McGinnis, an assistant professor of English and theater. I’m no theater critic. I saw “Death of a Salesman” in North Carolina several years ago and once played “Sandy the Dog” in Jefferson Elementary School’s version of “Annie.” I was adorable. But that’s about all I know about thespians, stage directions, curtain calls and theater etiquette. So when I slouched into the back row at the Selby Auditorium on Saturday night, I was really only hoping not to be bored. I left happily entertained. Edmonds, who retired from Saint Leo last year after more than 40 years in higher education, wore his typical attire: faded jeans, denim shirt, bandana around the forehead and dark sunglasses. His graying hair was, as usual, pulled into a long ponytail. An “unseen” narrator positioned at mid-stage, he offered salt-of-the-earth insight to his son and daughter, half-siblings as well as belligerent, befuddled lovers. May, the daughter, was played by the talented Julia Teal, while her booze-swilling, rifle-cleaning brother, Eddie, was portrayed by Joshua Pless. Chris Collier played Martin, a dimwitted third wheel who finds himself amid the quarreling duo in a desert motel. That cast performed on March 26 and 28. On March 25 and 27, May was played by Emily Belbo; Josh Porthouse portrayed Eddie; and Dan Losey was Martin. For weeks leading up to the production, Edmonds had worried of flubbing his lines and “making a fool” of himself in public. If he screwed up Saturday night, the audience didn’t know. His Western-style delivery, timing and out-of-the-spotlight expressions seemed to complement the depraved tale perfectly. In the parking lot afterward, Edmonds pulled a crooked cigarette from a soft pack of Winstons. The cast and crew had given him a card and framed pictures of the production. Edmonds’ biker image, poker face and deep, Johnny Cash voice help project a hard image, but he was clearly touched by the gifts. Still, as he exhaled smoke into the sweet Florida air, he said, “I’m glad that’s over with.” He has vowed never to step foot on a stage again, or be forced to remember lines he didn’t write himself. “I believe him,” said The Tall Girl, Edmonds’ bride. “It was too much like work. He was on that script every day for two months and the rehearsal schedule was five days a week sometimes.” Thus, Edmonds resumed retirement after taking his bows Saturday night. He went fishing Monday and was riding his motorcycle today. Later, he might relax on his porch with a cigarette, outlaw country playing in the background.