What I Know For Something

Oh, Oprah. You get me every time, with your lists of favorite things, your amazing audience gifts, and your knack for always sounding both curious and "ready to learn" while simultaneously allowing your voice to resonate like Mother Earth giving audience to her creation. You are so, well, Oprahtastic.

This morning, when I got home from teaching music, I fired up the television (strictly forbidden during the day by self-imposed rules, lest I fail to accomplish anything) to watch Oprah's reunion of the cast of the movie, "The Sound of Music." I just couldn't help myself. Julie Andrews. Christopher Plummer. ALL THE KIDS. Heaven, heaven, heaven.

When I was nine, I got my first big taste of stage-rush---that slightly terrifying, mostly euphoric feeling of performing in front of an audience---as Marta in the local production of "The Sound of Music." While a lot of my childhood is now hazy, so many moments of that production are etched in my brain. The rehearsal party that we had with Gail, the woman playing Maria, and her sister, Linda, the rehearsal pianist. Going to Milwaukee to a professional theatre costume shop to try on and pick up our naval uniforms, curtain dresses, and lederhosen. Being jealous that "Re" only came up once during the little "Do-Re-Mi" song, while my friend, Liz, who played Brigitta got to sing "Mi" three times (i.e., Do-Mi-Mi, Mi-So-So, RE-Fa-Fa, La-Ti-Ti...) Taking breaks with the other kids and getting to buy soda from a vending machine---real soda, in a can, not even on a holiday or special occasion! Practicing, and practicing, and agonizing over, then practicing some more the complicated festival version of "Do-Re-Mi" on the little stage in the rehearsal hall (i.e., tea with jam, jam and bread). Watching Jim, the man who both played Franz and worked stage crew, create the sound of thunder backstage by shaking a piece of metal. Running onstage after that thunder and trying to not to crash into Jim and the "thunder maker" before jumping under the covers (it happened once in rehearsals). Sitting in the dressing room while my patient mom braided my hair, then sitting some more while she tried to "fix" the braid on the left or the right that her picky, dramatic daughter didn't think matched the other (I'm getting ample payback for this now, of course, with EJ). Getting to wear make-up. Getting to sing in front of people. Getting to do quick costume changes in a frenzy and jump back on stage. Getting to stay up late and go to cast parties at the Elks' Club. Getting carnations with sweet notes of encouragement. Getting to be a part of the whole thing.

For years, Oprah has used an interview question that was originally Gene Siskel's, asking guests, "What do you know for sure?" I don't know that I know much for sure, except, maybe, that I don't think I can handle another political call before the upcoming midterm election, and much to my chagrin, drinking red wine now gives me terrible heartburn. I do know something, though. This something lives deep down in the core of myself, and I don't risk saying it out loud, because the stark truth of it makes me wonder what I would do if this something is "for sure," as I'm guessing Oprah would suggest. At the risk of sounding absolutely ludicrous or self-indulgently maudlin, here is what I know:

I believe that I have spent the better part of my life chasing after the remarkable feeling that was being Marta in "The Sound of Music."

Watching today's Oprah show, I was reminded of the magic that is "The Sound of Music" story and score, especially the score. Wow, the songs, they just pull you to a different place, and when you can hear them sung by the genius who is Julie Andrews, what could be better? That said, I was equally moved today by hearing Julie speak of losing her incredible voice, and how, while she misses singing, she has found new joy in writing children's books. The best of the best in her field is no one-trick pony, and has shown up and kept finding new things to express her creativity.

I've been lucky enough to be in a lot of musicals, plays, productions, etc., since "The Sound of Music," but nothing really ever topped it. As I became an adult and turned to other pursuits for fulfillment, no work or hobby experience---even the very best---has matched it, either. Does this mean that I peaked at nine? That would certainly be depressing, but I'm pretty confidant that is not the case. I appreciate that memory has allowed me to let the bad stuff go that may have surrounded staging that musical, and to remember only what a nine-year old would choose to remember moving forward. I recognize my Marta experience for what is was: extraordinary, like nothing else, uniquely special. Truly, a "favorite thing," to quote the Von Trapps.

All that said, it is interesting to look back on something so singular in my life and wonder how---a mere 28 years later (gasp!)---I can examine those childhood moments and link them to what still energizes me now. Examining my experience in this way seems especially key at this point in time, as I am shifting to a place where I have more critical resources (and more need) to figure out what I want to do with myself professionally.

What did I really learn in my short, local turn as Marta? I know that I love to work in a community. I know that I need to be creative. I know that I love to be performing, or at the least, that I don't mind being the one to stand up in front of the room and give a presentation. I know that when I'm working on something challenging where my talent intersects with the talents of others in a meaningful way, time feels like it stands still and work seems to become effortless. I know that, even if I only contribute one little note while others put in three, if my note is unique, and if it is needed for the whole and appreciated by my peers, I will bring it to the table with gusto and feel incredibly rewarded.

Absolutely all of this is applicable to being on stage, but happily, it is also applicable to almost any kind of job I might pursue. It is funny to think that, as I walk out of a job interview, I might ask myself, "Sure, the pay is great and the job seems like a fit, but do I think that, at least for some part of everyday, this job will make me feel like Marta?"

I also know that, no matter my day job, I need to find more venues to do actual performing, as when I am on stage singing I get the kind of endorphin high I imagine an athlete gets when they have completed a big race. My pipes are old and not as lovely as they were when I was 18, but I can still knock it out and make people smile, and that's a privilege I shouldn't take for granted.

Obviously, today's feel-good Oprah show left me with quite a lot to think about, and I just realized that I do know one more thing FOR SURE, as sure as anyone can. As I close in on my 37th birthday in less than two weeks, I know that, no matter what, I am still not too old to fantasize about growing up to be Julie Andrews.