Nutcracker

So, Ann and I met at the SF Nutcracker last night for a lovely little reunion (that was very nearly ruined by three babysitter snafus). They've redone all the sets, costumes, most of the choreography. I loved it.

I have lots of memories of the Opera House. I remember running through the lobby, pretending I was looking for someone, secretly hoping that somebody important would see my little pantomime and cast me as Clara. I remember going with my mom that year that she had season tickets and I would buy a standing room ticket. I would always fall asleep on the way home and wake up but keep my eyes closed to see if I could tell where we were from the twists and stops in the road. I remember talking my way into the stage door entrance with some friends when the Kirov was there performing Le Corsaire and all the standing room seats were sold out, and the backstage manager let us go through these secret tunnels/elevators up to the balcony (he knew our ballet teachers).

Enough with the schmaltz, I know.

Anyway, odd admission here--I always cry at the overture to the Nutcracker. It's a nostalgic, sentimental, psychological problem I have, apparently. But I made it all the way until the party scene before I was a little chocked up.

Even stranger admission--I always cry when I see the Macys Thanksgiving Day Parade. I went once in NY to watch the balloons being inflated, but I don't think that's why I cry. I think it's the start of the season, blah blah blah. Anyway, I was so embarrassed this year, that I vigorously chopped onions so that nobody would know the real source of my tears. I had to chop a lot of onions to cover the incessant crying, and I am still using them from my freezer.

It was a lovely evening. Lots of little girls in taffeta and even a few gents in tuxes. I couldn't help but see Ellie in every little girl that was on stage. I should probably join a support group now for backstage mothers reliving their childhood fantasies through their children.