From 2005:
For years my mother took care of me whenever I needed taking care of, wiping my brow and mending my scrapes, listening to me gripe about the slightest ache or pain (I was no better a patient as a boy than I am as a man). If she ever complained, it wasn’t to me. Now it’s my turn, and you’d think I’d be able to face the moderate rigors of two weeks’ part-time nursing duty with more grace.
If I were a better person, I could at least assure myself that this is a spiritual exercise, a refiner’s fire that will toughen my character and make me more considerate and forgiving upon my return to Manhattan. Would that it were so. I’m sure the sheer relief of shedding my cares will leave me dizzy with joy come Friday, but I’m no less sure I’ll be my old impatient self within a week at most, wondering why the world isn’t capable of ordering itself with a more comprehensive regard to my immediate needs….
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I have big news. The simplest and best way to break it is to reprint the following 
Says Teachout: “I was surprised and apprehensive when Bill asked me to lunch one day and said that he wanted me to direct the play. I staged a run-through of an incomplete version of Satchmo in a workshop setting in 2011, but that’s the only time I’ve ever directed anything, anywhere. It seemed like a really interesting process, though, and when the New England premiere was mounted in Lenox the following year, I went to every single rehearsal—even the tech rehearsals. I also talked in great detail to Gordon Edelstein, the director, about the process as it was unfolding. I had a feeling that a time might come someday when I’d want to try directing the show myself, and that it’d be smart for me to pay attention. When Bill approached me about staging Satchmo, I knew I’d never get a better chance than this—to work with a company I admire in a theatre I know well. He’s a persuasive guy, and he said, ‘We won’t toss you in at the deep end without a life vest.’ That sealed the deal. By the end of lunch, I’d either talked myself into it or let Bill talk me into it—I’m not sure which!” 
“I’ve loved all the productions so far,” says Teachout. “Of course I’ve always had notions of my own about how the play might be done, but I never felt like they were right and everybody else’s ideas were wrong—they were just different. So when I stage Satchmo, I’m not going to act like I’m the author and this is my big chance to finally get it all right. I don’t feel that way. Instead, I want to approach the play strictly as a director, a guy who comes in, sits down, and says, ‘O.K., here we all are. Here’s this script. Now, what can we do together to make it work?’ I do have some preliminary production ideas based on my knowledge of PBD’s auditorium and the designers we’ve picked, but they’re completely up for grabs. I’m going to start from scratch—working on this play, in this theatre, with these people. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime, and I’m grateful beyond words for it.” 
Time: Wednesday. Place: a rental car en route from Storrs, Connecticut, to Mountainville, New York. 
Mr. Tucker’s “Midsummer” put me in mind of G.K. Chesterton’s remark that a good production of this miraculous masterpiece produces “an uproarious communion between the public and the play.” That’s exactly what happens under Hudson Valley’s spacious, inviting outdoor tent when Mark Bedard, Sean McNall, Jason O’Connell, Joey Parsons and Nance Williamson take the stage and start to impersonate Shakespeare’s 20-odd characters. But while the laughter that arises from their collective antics is both explosive and irresistible, this “Midsummer” is no mere jokefest. Not since Peter Brook’s now-legendary 1970 Royal Shakespeare Company version has there been so radically original or mysteriously poetic a production of the greatest of all stage comedies. It seals Mr. Tucker’s reputation as the outstanding American classical stage director of his generation.