Wendy Knox

As of late, Wendy Knox has been giving some thought to what a person might take with her if driven from her homeland. She and her Frank Theatre troupe are rehearsing their production of Bertolt Brecht’s Mother Courage and Her Children, an epic set during the Thirty Years’ War of 1618-1648—a time when many Europeans were rendered refugees.

Brecht’s play, which premiered in Zurich in 1941, is a meandering but deeply intellectual piece of literature, one with no shortage of contemporary parallels. Indeed, it has recently become fashionable reading, especially since a prominent and well-received New York production, starring Meryl Streep, was mounted in New York. But like most Twin Citizens, Knox has never seen Mother Courage set to stage. Where Mother Courage—and the posthumous personality we’ve attached to Brecht, for that matter—represents great darkness, the effusive Ms. Knox is quite the opposite. She was warm and chatty during a recent phone conversation—especially for a director fascinated by Brecht, Suzan-Lori Parks, and other challenging playwrights. And, like any theater professional worth her salt, she handily improvised the following list of items to take with her to The Rake’s desert isle:

1) I’m taking the hammock. Most people think that because they’re going to a desert island there’s already going to be hammocks there, because they’re used to going to Mexico. I went down the Amazon ten, twelve years ago, and we actually slept on hammocks, which was pretty fun. Then I bought a hammock a couple years ago, and I’ve got to tell you, I’m a believer in the hammock therapy. They’re great for reading. They’re great for just spacing out.

2) My friend Richard’s iPod. I don’t have an iPod and I’ve never even programmed one, but when I go to Richard’s house, I hear the most eclectic programming on his—everything from Donna Summer to Louis Prima. But first I’d want to make sure he had Elvis Costello and the Staples family.

3) One or two golden retrievers. I’m a golden retriever addict; they’re such great companions! And who cares about dog hair on a desert island?

4) For my intellectual survival kit, I’d take the library of my friend Beth Cleary [a Hamline University theater professor], which includes Brecht’s collected works, his journals, his poetry—since I’ve had the obsession with Brecht for, like, the past twenty years …

5) I’d also like to have a culinary survival kit, including a copy of Cook’s Illustrated: The Best Recipes. What’s great about it is that they’ll go into their test kitchen and do these test runs—how do you make the best scones or the best fried chicken? They’ll try the recipes with milk, and then maybe some cream. And then they’ll do this sort of analysis: Well, this worked but it made it kind of soggy, and so on. The survival kit would also have a really good knife and at least a case of fine wine. And a handful of seeds, because I’m a maniac gardener, too, and if I had a handful of heirloom tomato seeds and basil, I’d be able to make my own li’l caprese salad.