Last Week To Enter Kindle Contest & The Hokey Pokey (A Day Late): Broadway Shows ARE Worth the Price of Admission

Greetings!

This is the last week of my contest to win a Kindle! Please share your miracles! (Complete contest details are at the bottome of this post.)

Yesterday was Hokey Pokey Wednesday, but I was too busy actually doing The Hokey Hokey to post (I DID write it, LOL.)

Here it is:

             I mentioned to my son Michael that I was thinking of taking his brother to see the Broadway show Rent. I brought Michael to so many productions when he was younger. We started compiling a list once, and jotted down at least twenty-five, but both of us felt some were missing.

             Money got tighter, and as a result, Casey hasn’t seen many shows. Truth be told, I started resenting the price of admission. Shows are expensive! (Kind of like gluten-free cookies, but at least the shows are good.) I stopped making shows a priority. But the other day, during a school visit, I spotted some vouchers for Rent in the office, and decided to give Casey a treat.

            “I’ll go again,” Michael said. “I loved that show.”

            “Oh, great. More money,” I said, but I was laughing. Because Michael really did love that show. He even wanted a stuffed cow wearing the Rent logo on a t-shirt as a souvenir (you have to see the show to get the joke.) It’s funny – we just stored that cow in a box in our attic. “Okay, three tickets it is.”

            Then he said something that shocked me: “Broadway shows made me who I am.”

            “How so?” I asked.

            He said, “They made me believe that anything was possible.”

            Wow.

            Looking back, I can see that. The way he marched up and down the aisle when the band played “Seventy-Six Trombones” at the end of The Music Man.

The way he marveled at Peter Pan flying above his head,

and on a different occasion in the same theatre, the way he marveled over Annie getting her gun.

Hell, he even loved Tom Sawyer, The Musical (probably the only person who ever did.)

            He didn’t love Cats, but thought it was so cool to go on stage and see the sleeping cat up close at intermission. He was tickled over Suessical the Musical, which I thought was much better than it had the right to be. He and his cousin Ashleigh went wild over Footloose and asked to see the movie – which they panned. 

            He danced all the way back to the car after Forty-Second Street.

            There were only two shows he disliked: Beauty and the Beast (He was about five and terrified. No, he was not scared of the beast. He never made it that far. The wolves attacking Belle in the woods freaked him out, and he willed himself to sleep) and Jesus Christ Superstar (which I only took him to because the commercial proclaimed it “a family musical,” but it bored him so much that he begged me to let him sleep - so I did. It got better in the second act, but he’ll never know.)

            So many shows! The list goes on. I, too, was influenced by Broadway when I was little – but I thought it was because my aunt played violin in the orchestra pits (before she built her barge.) I got to go backstage and meet the actors. I especially remember No, No, Nanette and all the cool people I met there.

At home, I sang the songs with and without the record: “I Want to be Happy,” “Take a Little One Step, Two Step, Three Step” and of course the very woe-is-me “Where Has My Hubby Gone Blues.”

            But maybe it wasn’t just because I went backstage. Maybe it was the magic of musicals.

            I also loved The Music man. Over and over I sang “Goodnight My Someone” and “’Til There Was You.” And I adored Oklahoma.

            As an adult I became a “Jekkie” and saw Jekyll and Hyde at least two dozen times.

            Turns out Broadway shows are worth the price of admission. They do make you feel different about your prospects. They’re uplifting.

            Michael has grown into a fine, young man who indeed believes that anything is possible.

And because he believes this - it is.

            I’ll have to start bringing Casey to shows. I think he’ll enjoy Rent,

though he is a tough customer, as Aunt Olga would say. He should be happy as long as I keep my mouth shut and don’t sing along with the cast.

            And I already have a stuffed cow waiting for him at home.

Here are the contest details:

Got a story about a miracle? Share it with me, and you could win yourself or someone you love a Kindle.

There are other ways to win:

1. Follow this blog. (There is a space at the bottom of the post to enter your e-mail. I know it's hard to figure out - but I can't figure out how to make it clearer. Sorry!!!)
2. Post this contest in your status on any social media.
3. E-mail your favorite quote on "miracles" to Ldymcbeth@aol.com.
4. Review one of my books (there are four) on your blog, Goodreads or Amazon.
5. I'm open to other creative ideas for entries. Try me!
You will receive one entry for each thing you do. I will select ONE winner out of all the entries on Thursday, December 15.

Tightrope Tuesday: It's High Noon!

             I’m in a rush today, so I’ll have to keep this brief. I was waylaid by the arrival of my mother on my doorstep last night (if you want to know about that relationship, read my novel Saved by the Music.) Suffice to say, I had a rough time until the Valium kicked in.

            Today I’m feeling kind of sunrise-sunsety. Except the sun’s not setting. It's at "high noon."  But the metaphor works when thinking about my kids – especially Michael.

            I can’t get over him being 17, a high-school senior, and a licensed driver. I mean I can, but then suddenly the thought hits me: “How did this happen?”

            He’s soooo tall!

            I’m used to him towering over me, but I glanced at his leg the other night and was struck by how adult it was. You know, hairy. Like the leg hanging over the bridge on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disney – but without the grime.

            When did puberty occur? He was so quiet about it. Unlike my younger son Casey, who is reveling in puberty like it’s Mardi Gras and asking me questions which make me blush.

            Michael has always been one to work things out quietly. When he was little and we went somewhere, the first thing he would do is scope out a “mad place.” Usually, it was under a table. This was a place he could go when he got upset, and he would stay there until he worked it out.

            He made himself his own time-out place!

(This is not Michael - it's a Google Image)

            He only threw one fit in his childhood, when he wanted a pacifier in a drugstore, He had a collection in his pockets. “Me-me! Me-me!” he cried, pointing.

            “No more me-me’s!”

            “Me-me! Me-me!”

            I took his hand and tried to lead him away, but just like in the picture book Knufflebunny, he “went boneless.”

            “Me-me! Me-me!”

            I was dumbfounded. He’d never acted like that before. But I knew enough not to buy him that me-me. I dragged him out of the store. It must have been very disturbing for bystanders.

            When we got to the sidewalk I asked him, “Done now?”

            He nodded and stood.

            That was it. He must’ve realized that the fit tactic was futile with me. That’s the kind of kid he was – and is (even though he’s a man now.) He learns from experience. Can you imagine?

            We have such a great relationship. At a college visit on Saturday¸ one of Michael’s friends' mothers asked me, “Do you two just laugh together all the time?”

            We do.

            Somehow, my son turned out to be the perfect man I could never find for myself. He is empathetic, honest and reliable. He’s a man of his word. He’s self-motivated. And he’s darn good-looking to boot.

            How about that?

Michael & me: And he was only about 13 here!