Blog Reader Judy's Singing Debut (Christmas Memories Shared)

A few days ago, I asked on my blog to share a Christmas memory of yours with me, had shared about my brother Zane’s mishap with the nativity.

This memory was from Judy:

MY SINGING DEBUT

The Christmas program at District 53 was the biggest event of the school year. Two weeks before the program, the school board built a 2 x 12’s stage laid out on top of cement blocks. The olive green army surplus curtains were strung across the small room on wires. Our desks were shoved against the walls, and lessons were more or less suspended so that we could concentrate on the “big show.”

There would be a crowd—all the parents, a few older brothers, sisters, and 3 or 4 toddlers. There would be some grandparents, too. Santa Claus would appear at the end of the program and hand out bags of hard ribbon candy, nuts in the shell, candy canes, and an orange. Of course, I knew it wasn’t Santa. I had known them since 2^nd grade. That was the year I realized that Santa was wearing Gordon Nelson’s shoes!

The atmosphere in that little one-roomed school was tingling with excitement. While the little kids practiced their “pieces” and hand-motion songs, the older students brushed up their lines for the play. We all sang Christmas carols together. The highlight of the evening would, of course, be my duet,

Silent Night, sung with Eleanor Miller, Eleanor with white hair and white skin. Eleanor, white from drinking milk and eating lard sandwiches on white bread. Old white, boring, insipid Eleanor !!

On the afternoon of the Christmas program, we had our final rehearsal. I sat through the “pieces,” acted my part in the play to perfection, and waited impatiently for the most important part of the program—my duet! When the time finally came, Eleanor and I stepped onto the stage and stood with our hands cupped in front of us while the teacher played an introduction to “Silent Night.” Midway through the first verse, I was signing my lungs out, but Eleanor was fading out and began leaning against me. I thought she must be awestruck by my lilting voice. By the end of the first verse, she had quit singing and was leaning on me with all her weight. I was incredibly annoyed and took a giant step backward. Eleanor dropped over in a faint and hit her head on the edge of the stage. She came to with a massive bump on her forehead, and Miss Light called her parents to come to pick her up. I feigned concern, but all I could think of was, “I get to sing a solo; I get to sing a solo!”

That night I showed up in my new navy blue taffeta dress with the red and white candy-striped piping. I loved the swishing sound the taffeta made when I walked. I was also wearing suede slip-on shoes and, if that wasn’t cool enough, I also had on my first pair of hose. They were seamless, and my mother and I didn’t even know such a thing until the Mode ‘O Day in Fremont clerk introduced us to them. Of course, our country kids were out of the fashion loop. Since the hose was seamless, how would the other District 53 kids know I was wearing them? It would be a shame if they didn’t know about the latest thing in hosiery. So, while we waited for the program to begin, I discreetly slipped my foot in and out of my shoe to emphasize not only the slip-on but the heel and toe of my seamless hose.

It was almost curtain time, and Eleanor hadn’t shown up. I was very excited. I was the District 53 fashion plate and about to make my singing debut. I peeked through the stage curtains to watch our audience arrive. The little school was packed. How thrilling—all those people assembled to hear my first solo! I silently went over the words to the melody while I watched the people file in. The Johnsons, the Dentons, the Nelsons, the Fleischmans and, oh no! Oh no! The Millers were there—with their white, with the purple knot on her head, daughter.