She flew in on gossamer wings.
She danced to and sang (she couldn't resist singing, even in ballet) Sondheim.
She pranced and strutted, or may I say, delivered, "Broadway Baby"!
In this debut, she was accompanied by an equally talented posse of like-aged five year old vixens.
However, like Cassie of "A Chorus Line", she was, just maybe, just a half step into the lead. At a mere five stage weathered years, she has already taken on Sondheim as her muse. When she is 85 that muse will still serve her well.
Now my brother has erred, a wee bit, in coaching her that the lines are:
"I don't need a lot...
Only what I got...
Plus a tube of greasepaint,
And a bottle of scotch"
However, watching this charming star turn gives me such joy and hope for the next generation.
The accompaning chorus line of around 12 sublimely gifted fey five year old's were perfectly placed on stage, though not yet knowing of terms like "scenery chewing star turns", so they remained blissfully unawares that they were merely supporting players, whilst still aiming towards that final goal of the big finish, consisting of a Busby Berkleyesque choreographed pinwheel of epic proportions.
My divine niece, noting that one had not held to her queue, would not allow the poor hapless babe into the final line-up.
An "Auntie Mame", "I Love Lucy", moment soon ensued.
It was the funniest thing I ever seen. Pure "Funny Girl" Babs hilarity.
However, later, tragedy did strike.
Grandmother, Mom, Dad, Uncle Gunga, and Uncle Boris, all wished this delightful diva the best of luck through the theatrical tradition of theatre-speak: "Break a Leg".
A jealous and bitter neighbor child beast, 8 years old and old-enuf-to-know-better-bully-boy pushed her off her bike and did just that.
Kudos, to my 8 year old nephew, Master D, who chivalrously confronted the demon child and rescued the fair niece, without bloodshed, nor further inflaming a tense situation.
As my delightful Albuquerque friend and theatre aficionado would call it: "THAT DIRTY RAT BASTARD!" punk kid.
Thankfully, it all happened post performance, and she is now wearing, triumphantly, a positively dah'ling pink cast with matching petite pink crutches.
Always, always, remember to accessorize!
To my most special and adored niece M., You razzle-dazzled me, and may this light glow from now to eternity.
And to quote our muse:
"Give us more to see!"
OK Call Me A Pro M. Biased Uncle Gunga.
1 comment:
Ahhhhhh . . . like uncle . . . like niece! Now . . . what to do about that 8-yr-old bully boy . . . these things must handled deeeeeeeelicately! Heh-heh-heh . . . and I still want to know what the parents of that little b*s*a*rd had to say.
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