A Small Part

Last October, a friend called and said the high school was auditioning for parts in Annie. The girls were all to come prepared to sing the song 'Tomorrow'. For 3 weeks, Maddie practiced and practiced. She sang to anyone and everyone who would listen. She got pretty good, too.

Finally, the audition day came. We walked into an auditorium that was teeming with high schoolers. Loud and running around, comfortable with one another, clearly had done this before. The directors were also familiar with a lot of these kids, not afraid to tell them what they needed to do to improve their performances. Every time they yelled out to a kid, I saw Maddie shrink further into her chair and cut her eyes in my direction. I smiled and tried to look confident, but I looked at the number of kids and knew it was going to be a long shot.

By the time it was her turn, they'd cut the girls to just one verse. When her name was called, she walked up onstage and stood there waiting for piano accompaniment. At 10 years old, she looked so small and her voice, when she started to sing, was lost in the babble and curtains and cavernous auditorium. The courage alone it took to stand up there... My heart sank for her. But she came off stage, with a smile and a "We'll call you" and we went to get an ice cream.

A few days later the call came that she didn't get a part. I'll admit, I cried thinking about how to break the news to her and how it would break her heart. The kids don't hear the word no very often, and while I realized this was a chance to really teach a life lesson, this was a big NO to hear.

It was every bit as awful as I'd imagined it would be and I don't know if it was right or wrong to pose it as a lesson at that point, but I did. Simply because I didn't know what else to do. She grieved not getting a part. It was terrible to watch her work so hard and fail.

A couple of weeks passed and we got another call - they needed extras. Would Maddie be willing to do that? Uhhh... Yeah.

So it started. Practices every couple weeks at first, then a few before the Winter Break. Then ramping up into February. I'd never been involved in theater before, but I have to imagine this program would rate pretty high up there. The work and detail and intricacies put into each song, each scene, it was insanely impressive to my untrained eye. How it was going to all come together, I couldn't envision, but could see the potential.

The directors tweaked and tweaked right up to(and through)opening night. It was so nerve-wracking to see and wonder how it would all turn out. The costumes got their final touches, the vacuum was run through the seats, "Instead, sing 'Hooverville' like this", and people started to take their seats.

Now, I had a small part in this production. Our dog was playing Sandy, so I was waiting with him in the wings. I never got to see Maddie's first song from the seats once the show started (I watched the 2nd all 9 times). But I did get to watch from stage left, just beyond the curtain's black folds. When the curtain pulled back and the lights came on, her back was to me. Maddie and the ensemble worked their way around the stage, she turned and I got to see her face. Singing, under the lights, beautiful- even in her street kid costume, confident.

Another moment I wished I could lock away. Forever.

These incredible kids went on to perform 9 shows in the last week. By the end, there was a feeling of family among so many of the actors. They were kind and good to my girl, who was one of the 4 youngest in the cast. Getting to be backstage as much as I was, I got to feel a real affinity for so many of the cast members, I was able to share in their successes, it was a true gift.

Maddie would come off stage after each show, hang her costumes, dress in her comfy clothes with stage makeup and flush still brightening her eyes and cheeks. You could see the pride she felt, the love she had for what she was a part of, the exhaustion from long hours and the excitement for the next performance.

I, too, felt proud that she was a part of this. Proud, that even though she had a small part, it made her feel larger than life.