The Tonys: A fairy tale
Jun. 16th, 2008 01:05 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fictionalWhen I was a little girl, I used to go to school in a Castle. It was quite far away from my home - following the road by the river, and beyond a big forested park. Because it was so far, we had to travel in packs to get there, especially when we were small. But I lived so far away that there were hardly any of my compeers to travel that long perilous journey with. In fact, only one. But such a one! Just down the street, you see, there lived a Boy, and when I was small, I thought him the prettiest, nicest, wonderfullest thing in all the world. For me, in fact, he was the One. I used to chase him around the playground in a mad effort to kiss him.* He was fleet of foot however, and I don't think I ever caught him. But oh, how I wanted to. At seven, we staged a production of "The Fools of Chelm" and I got to be Yente Pesha, and he was my husband! Such bliss & rapture were not meant for mortal man to endure! I'm sure I thought there was no more to live for! In sixth grade, when we were forced to write short little one act plays, instead of the glorious, full musical that we had anticipated since kindergarten years - we were put in the same group, and he & I wrote a ridiculous play about a high school reunion, in which he was a boy with a crush on me, that never got fulfilled...in fact, I showed up in a mink coat, and stomped all over his little heart!
I didn't see much of the Boy in high school, except as one does, when working on the same plays, and having the occasional class together, the occasional conversation between two people who have known each other practically since they can remember. What I do remember is that at the end of our thirteen years of school together, I still sort of thought he was the nicest boy I had ever known. In our senior year, he directed our school musical production of West Side Story - which I never got to try out for because I sprained my ankle for the billionth time, the day we had auditions. I did backstage work instead, and I remember at the wrap party, he sliced into the cake, and made a speech as directors were wont to do in those days of high school tradition which could not be defied. And his speech was short and sweet, and all it said was to thank the people who had worked so hard to make the play happen, and then he smiled and standing on the table, dedicated the first piece of cake to me, and said how much he regretted my not being in it.
I've never forgotten it. I was lonely and desperate that year - the year of seventeen. Awkward and unhappy and lost. And though I didn't love him anymore - not that way - I have never forgotten that moment of kindness.
Strangely, we had our reunion just last week - though not a twenty year one like we wrote about in our play. And sadly, I left before he showed up - he was late, of course, because it was Saturday night and Broadway shows stop for no man. Still, tonight, he won a Tony - just like I think all of us who were in his class, and had the pleasure of watching him sing, and dance, and write songs, always knew he would - though I'm not sure we figured on this soon. And I can't think of a soul on Earth who isn't glad for him. Because he really was one of the nicest boys in the whole world. For once, I'm not eaten up with envy of someone else's success - just thrilled down to my toes.
Oh, Lin-Manuel. There's a five year old girl somewhere who is still chasing you around a small wooden fortress outside a big brick castle, and both she and I are so proud of you tonight!
*I don't say I wasn't willing to kiss other young lads (and young lasses too, but they, I have to say, were more appreciative). We used to sometimes play Take Over The Fortress, boys against girls, and I was always stationed at the top of the wooden structure to ward off the oncoming hordes of boys with kisses. It was a strange world, the one of my childhood.
I didn't see much of the Boy in high school, except as one does, when working on the same plays, and having the occasional class together, the occasional conversation between two people who have known each other practically since they can remember. What I do remember is that at the end of our thirteen years of school together, I still sort of thought he was the nicest boy I had ever known. In our senior year, he directed our school musical production of West Side Story - which I never got to try out for because I sprained my ankle for the billionth time, the day we had auditions. I did backstage work instead, and I remember at the wrap party, he sliced into the cake, and made a speech as directors were wont to do in those days of high school tradition which could not be defied. And his speech was short and sweet, and all it said was to thank the people who had worked so hard to make the play happen, and then he smiled and standing on the table, dedicated the first piece of cake to me, and said how much he regretted my not being in it.
I've never forgotten it. I was lonely and desperate that year - the year of seventeen. Awkward and unhappy and lost. And though I didn't love him anymore - not that way - I have never forgotten that moment of kindness.
Strangely, we had our reunion just last week - though not a twenty year one like we wrote about in our play. And sadly, I left before he showed up - he was late, of course, because it was Saturday night and Broadway shows stop for no man. Still, tonight, he won a Tony - just like I think all of us who were in his class, and had the pleasure of watching him sing, and dance, and write songs, always knew he would - though I'm not sure we figured on this soon. And I can't think of a soul on Earth who isn't glad for him. Because he really was one of the nicest boys in the whole world. For once, I'm not eaten up with envy of someone else's success - just thrilled down to my toes.
Oh, Lin-Manuel. There's a five year old girl somewhere who is still chasing you around a small wooden fortress outside a big brick castle, and both she and I are so proud of you tonight!
*I don't say I wasn't willing to kiss other young lads (and young lasses too, but they, I have to say, were more appreciative). We used to sometimes play Take Over The Fortress, boys against girls, and I was always stationed at the top of the wooden structure to ward off the oncoming hordes of boys with kisses. It was a strange world, the one of my childhood.
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Date: 2008-06-16 06:05 pm (UTC)