One of the kiddos in our writing class is Jane Banks in Mary Poppins. Unlike early-in-the-story-Jane, she is practically perfect in every way. Her mother is not a crazy stage-mom, but rather somebody easy-going and generous. We were the fortunate recipients of a crazy dose of that kindness, and they not only gave us insight on how to get very affordable amazing seats -- where we could see every sweet face expression of our classmate -- but after the show they took us back stage to see the tricks of the trade, ask questions, and learn about Olive, the ghost of The New Amsterdam Theatre. Apparently Olive can be a tad temperamental, so many of the people that work there very politely look at her picture that hangs backstage and wish her a good morning and a good night. There is something to be said for acknowledging that a little politeness might go along way.
I love that my kids are learning that sometimes you can't see everything that is going on. Also, that they are seeing how people help people -- obviously, this family helped our family do something cool -- but they also learned about the incredible quantity of people back stage cueing and moving and attaching and making and teaching and powdering and plugging and adjusting and... Exciting and brilliant things get pulled off when people develop their individual talents and then contribute towards a common goal. Some people are on stage and have a crowd waiting for them at the stage door each night. Some people who provide the scaffolding for the magic to happen slip out into the night unnoticed.
It takes Mary Poppins to remind the Banks of their priorities. It takes a ghost to remind performers that sometimes knowing that you've done all that you can (even small, seemingly nonsensical traditions) helps avoid being bogged down in a mess. It takes meeting new people in a class to get invitations. It takes an eleven-year old actress to show me that some actors are authentic because they fall in love with a story and as the journey becomes real for them they want to take along others for the sake of the journey -- not attention. It takes a man with a microphone watching a screen speaking to a woman with a blanket to make a magic bed appear. It takes a lot of little pieces:
In The Boy's write-up he posits: "Mary Poppins is an amazing show about a nanny who teaches the Banks children important lessons. At the end Mary Poppins flies over all the seats. She does this by putting on a harness that's attached to a rope that moves on a track on a piece of wire." The harness, the track, the wires -- to him, that is more magical than if she had flown off powered only by umbrella and twinkling music. I'm learning this everyday as I become more acquainted with who my children really are -- not who they used to be, not who I want them to be, not who I'm afraid they might become -- but who they are right now with this set and this script. Magic -- that which makes life meaningful for us -- is different for everybody. And to make it even more complicated, we all keep changing.
They say that Olive is most naughty when there's a big change, so the theatre employees are starting to get a little squidgy about the closing of the show this Sunday. Maybe they need not worry, maybe like Jane and Michael she has learned something from Mary Poppins: fighting against change is about as productive as fighting against a shift in the wind. Be blown over, or fly.
The wind is already starting to shift around here. Yesterday the Sister received word that she got accepted into her school of choice -- BYU in Provo, Utah -- the Harvard of the Mormon World. We couldn't be more proud. While there is still time left to the scheme, as we start discussing plans for our final trip of the year, and as The Sister chats of next year's dorms and meal plans, we can smell the change in the air.
