A Different Kind of Show

There is nothing more exhilarating than the final swell of voices at the height of a show stopping number.

Each phrase sweeping up the audience in agony, joy, or anger, the buzz of a theater both uplifting and fulfilling. The rejuvenation that comes with seeing a complex dance sequence more satisfying than any of the stunts in TV shows or movies. My childhood consists of hours upon hours of these productions, Broadway's best and brightest giving a private performance whenever the DVD was inserted into the player. While other kids brag about their Disney collections, my pride swells at the mention of the wide variety of musicals that Dad bought every so often.

Broadway's presence is everywhere in our home. The familiarity of show tunes fill empty car rides or sound loudly throughout the house during cleaning days, impromptu performances constantly taking precedence over any sweeping or laundry. After all the work is done, the reenactments subside and turn to attentive viewings of Colm Wilkinson's legendary Jean Valjean or Bernadette Peters'  unique role of the witch. The tragedy of Fantine may be too complex for my young mind to fully grasp, but the music alone was more than enough to create the foundations for a life long interest.

Empty days full of rain or snow provide the best atmosphere for viewing the performances. On one memorable occasion, I find myself in the living room, perfectly content to put myself in the famous theaters of New York or London once again, dreaming of being able to do the same dramatic solos. Dad is playing a gig, and mom is mulling over her latest literary favorite, only half paying attention to my newest obsession. Dancing cats are obviously the most interesting thing I'd found thus far. Never before had I seen such colorful costumes or fabulous dancing, and nothing was more important than watching Webber's famous work on repeat (much to my parents' distaste).

However, believing that my own cats were just as eager to dance may have not have been the best of deductions. Trying to get a grumpy old tabby to do the miraculous twists and turns that I was quickly in love with results not in a perfect rendition of the opening number, but rather an irked feline and several unsavory scratches. Perhaps Bert, Ernie, and Cosmo did not want to be Broadway stars after all, and I should have heeded mom's warning. The show is put on hold while I receive vital medical attention, and despite my personal desire, our house pets never have to perform again.

Despite not having my own personal cat stars, my love for the shows never dwindled. Instead of focusing on the social obligations of elementary school, I tried to dance along to Annie. Instead of going to see the newest kid's movie hit, I went proudly downtown to see the performing arts school's productions of my favorites. Broadway and the world of musicals provided not only endless entertainment, but also warmth and happiness, representing something everyone in my family loved. Even today, though things aren't as simple or smooth, show tunes have a permanent residence in our home, their flashiness and emotion continuing to give reason for reenactments instead of cleaning and weekly family gatherings to watch the latest sensational production.