Monday, November 20, 2017

My First Starring Role? (Edited and Reprinted from 7/22/2009)

This is the book that introduced me to the fairy tale, if memory serves.
And the elf on the left is a maleI believe! (Note the subtle differences
in his eyes, lips, and "skirt.") Effeminate-looking cuss, isn't he?

I'm not going to relate the actual story of "The Elves and the Shoemaker." (If you're unfamiliar with the old Grimm Brothers fairy tale, and want to read it, here it is. It's shorter than almost everything I've ever written!) Instead, I'm going to tell you about my being in a play based on that story, a play in which I starred -- well, okay, co-starred -- in fourth (or maybe fifth) grade.

This was either my first or second real performance before an audience. This was long before any public speeches I've had to make. This was years before I ever sang lead for various rock'n'roll bands. This was before I'd ever appeared in any of my high school's annual "Dippy Day" skits on April first. This was four or five years before I ever appeared in any of my high school drama club productions, and four or five years before a play I was in at summer camp one year. This was before I ever sang a solo in my church choir. This was even before I ever performed in my grammar school glee club!

Members of my fourth-grade class -- there were two others in my grammar school, IIRC -- rehearsed it for a few weeks, and then performed the play for the two other fourth-grade classes. All of this occurred during school hours. But it was still a "performance," as it were, albeit a severely limited engagement.

And I was one of the elves.

* * * * *

A brief -- for me, anyway -- digression: I said that this was either my first or second time before an actual audience. The other occasion vying for the coveted role of "my first time" -- and get your mind out of the gutter! -- would have been the time I stood next to three other Cub Scouts from my "den" at our monthly "pack meeting" and read aloud from a comic book called The True Story of Smokey Bear.

This is the second printing of a comic which was reprinted in 1964
and 1969. Notice how the title kinda looks like a paste-over? It is!

The original 1960 edition was entitled The True Story of Smokey
the Bearwhich, technically, is the wrong name for the little critter!

Several
 people -- adults and children -- told me that during the section I read, everyone in the crowd paid very close attention to me, captivated by my voice! (And keep in mind, Cub Scouts were comprised of boys from eight to ten years old, a fidgety group under the best of circumstances!)

That was the night, moreso than the day I performed in "The Elves and the Shoemaker," upon which I truly became hooked on the whole "performance" thing.

* * * * *

So, why am I focusing instead on "The Elves and the Shoemaker?"

Actually, it's because I want to share with you how supportive my mother was of my schoolwork and extra-curricular activities.

There wasn't a heck of a lot of thought given to the play's costuming... at least, not until I went home and told my mother about my class' upcoming production.

This was hardly the first occasion I recall where she went "all out" for me -- I remember her scurrying about to whip up the proper traditional German boy's outfit for a song I had to sing, and the little touches she added to my costume when I had to play an old-time bartender at a Cub Scout function -- nor would it be the last.

In short order, she'd stripped the white cottony trim off of a Santa Claus hat, and removed the big white cottony ball from its end. She removed the collar from a red shirt I owned -- or more probably, just folded it inward to hide it, I don't recall which -- and replaced it with a green collar that looked sufficiently... elfinElfish? Whatever.

The masterstroke was what she did with the hat. She had me pull it down to cover my ears, after having sewn on two pink pieces of felt, cut to look like pointy elf ears. (If she'd been working on the original Star Trek, she could have saved Paramount's make-up department a fortune.)

Then, realizing that my costume was going to totally eclipse that of the other elf, played by a kid named Steve, she sewed together a matching green hat for him, and created a red collar as counterpoint to my green collar. (She didn't make a shirt for him. She just had me tell Steve to wear a crew-necked green shirt when he got dressed for school that day.)

The teacher took a photo of the play's cast, in costume. My copy disappeared years ago (damnit). In it, Steve adopted a flashy pose... feet splayed, hands on hips, big grin. I stood there like a serious little soldier. He was the "ham," while I almost looked like I wanted to be somewhere else.

Hm. I guess this was before the "Smokey Bear" incident.

I wrote this post in its original form eight years ago, because my mother (who passed away five months after this post's first appearance) was going through some severe health issues, and I wanted to "give credit where credit was/is due... even if it's more than forty years overdue."

A little sentimental for me, perhaps, but... there it is.

Thanks for your time.

16 comments:

  1. What a mom! So nice to make a costume for Steve, too. The only time I remember my mom taking an interest in something I did in school was when I played the little gingerbread boy in kindergarten. She bought a pair of brown pants for me and paired them with a brown top. I think she even came to see the play. The little gingerbread boy was the height of my acting career. I had to say x number of times, You can't catch me! I'm the gingerbread boy!

    I don't know why I played the part instead of one of the boys in class. Maybe the teacher saw something masculine in me. No one else ever did.

    Love,
    Janie

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Yeah, I was wondering why you played the gingerbread boy.

      Only the other fourth-graders got to see the play. It would have been nice if my mom could have watched it, too, just to see what she'd contributed.

      Delete
  2. What a beautiful story and nice tribute to your mother. I can tell she was wonderful. I'm sure she is missed.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Very much so. It'll be eight years since I lost her, this December 20th, two months to the day after her 92nd birthday.

      Delete
  3. That was great of her not to let you stand out over Steve, wasn't it? lol keeping all glued to you in cubs must have been a win too. Maybe you had that stern look and they thought you'd smack them if they didn't listen. A great mother you had indeed, so few go all out on anything these days. Except for maybe Farcebook crap.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. If I ever go to any of my class reunions, and Steve shows up, I'll ask him if he even remembers that play.

      Delete
  4. What a great mom! The fact that she made a costume for Steve, too, is what puts her over the top.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I certainly hope he appreciated it. I don't remember whether or not he did.

      Delete
  5. This comment has been removed by the author.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. oops

      Your mom sounds like she was a wonderful person. She wanted you to shine and I hope the other kid appreciated the gesture. I wonder if he ever said thank-you?

      You were lucky to have such a supportive and loving mom!

      Delete
    2. I certainly was. And I'm going to assume that Steve was appreciative, but I can't remember.

      Delete
  6. Wait... Your mother could've saved Paramount's make-up department a fortune? Now you're telling us? :) Too bad you don't have that picture anymore. Your reader, moi included, would love to see it. Excellent story. You're mother sure meant business. Do it well or don't do it at all. That's what mine would say.

    Thanks for sharing.

    Blue

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. "Do it well or don't do it at all?" Oh, yeah, that sounds like something my mom would have said. And yes, I'm very disappointed that the photo is long gone.

      Delete
    2. By the way, Blue, I've done several "Comical Wednesday" posts during the past three months or so which I was very pleased with, in case you have the time and/or inclination to check 'em out!

      Delete
  7. I loved reading that. What a star your mother was and what a shame you don't still have the photo.

    Susan A Eames at
    Travel, Fiction and Photos

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Yeah, the older I get, the more I wish it'd been saved.

      Delete

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