Drama Queen

I rose from the mud at field day like a Phoenix rising from the ashes. Flat-chest puffed out with pride, chin angled upward with an air of upper-class untouchability. None of which was deserved by the way. None of which my peers found surprising. I was (and still am) a drama queen. I got it from my mama, a dancer and choreographer through college my mother carried herself with the grace of a ballet dancer and the flair of a theater performer.

Once, my mom, sister and I visited the I-X Center near the Cleveland Airport where an indoor amusement park had been set up inside. Because it was indoor and contained my sister and I were allowed to roam around by ourselves. We meandered from carnival game to carnival game stingily holding on to the five dollars we had to spend. 

“That sounds like mom” Christina said to me as I was contemplating spending a dollar to win a gold fish.

I perked my ear up hoping that would help me hear over the low hum of a chorus of human voices. She was right. It did sound like mom. People began rushing over to an area of the center that featured a stage. We approached it warily. “That IS mom!” I shouted in Christina’s direction as we pushed our way to the front of the crowd gathering around the stage. Our mother was front and center on the stage, microphone in hand. Our eyes grew large and round as we took in the sight. 

“I come home, in the morning light…” My mother begins to sing as the instrumental track to Cyndi Lauper’s “Girls Just Want to Have Fun.” The crowd cheered her on as she loosened up and began to work the stage. “Whaaaat” my sister and I stood still, mouths agape, shocked. I was stuck between the shock of not realizing my mother had a side to her that had nothing to do with her being my mother, and impressed. But seeing my mother up on that stage singing a song about just wanting to have fun, while having fun, and entertaining a bunch of strangers inadvertently gave me permission to be more myself too. 

At Windsor the entire fifth and sixth grade classes put on a musical. We were able to audition for specific parts in the musical, if you didn’t want to do that you were made a part of the chorus whether you could hold a tune or not. I could not wait for the musical. The fifth grade musical was called “The Inside Pitch” was about baseball, as you probably guessed. It centered around a group of students studying the history of the game. I got the part of Nicki, a cheerleader who was one of eight students around which the play revolved. On stage, we had briefcases full of memorabilia, and each epic baseball memory was accompanied by a song and a scene that took us back in time. 

I had so much fun. The cast became a ragtag family spending our evenings and weekends together to rehearse. I remember driving to Oberlin with the crew to meet a Babe Ruth impersonator who our brilliant director Mrs. Mileti had booked for our show. One Saturday morning before the opening night I rushed my dad out of the house so that I wouldn’t be late for the cast brunch. I felt so damn special shimmying through the barely cracked, only unlocked door of the school. I walked down dimly lit halls, passing abandoned classrooms, warm light spilled through the doorway of Mrs. Mileti’s classroom where we were gathering. Brittany, Krista, Erin, Andy, Chad, Joey, Ben and I ate together as we read the script for the final time. We were ready.

So much preparation went into making the play happen. So many parents were involved with costume making and set design. The eight of us chatted away happily between scenes off stage in the hallway buzzing with adrenaline and the energy of proud parents. I was born ready for one of the final scenes of our play. Ben and I would duet. I spent hours playing and rewinding the tape to practice my solo, experimenting with different places to jazz it up, adding in unnecessary but well executed runs. I performed one of these spiced up versions for my family to uproarious applause. “You gonna do it like that on opening night?” One of them asked over the claps of the others. I shrugged. I’d let the night dictate the performance. I thanked them and told them I’d be resting my voice for the next few days. All six of their eyes rolled to the back of their heads as I took my leave.

When it was time for the duet, Ben and I stepped forward separating ourselves from the group. The music faded in and our song began. I looked out into the crowd, the palms of my hands sweaty. Nervousness and adrenaline combined in an unpleasant mix in my stomach. The butterflies were working their way up my throat as I opened my mouth to sing. Voice shaking I began:

You may not grow up to be a star

But you should be proud of who you are

Just give it your best and make success your every dream

If you just keep trying

There’s no denying

you’d make that winning team.

I had no idea how true that would be.