I’ve actually had to think about this one a little bit. My first thought was, “performances? What performances? I don’t do anything.” But now that I think about it, there’ve been several.
One of those performances was one that I was in, our church Easter extravaganza (“play” just doesn’t seem to fit) somewhere around 7th or 8th grade. I was a ministering angel and I actually danced. Yeah, me, I danced, how strange is that? We had these little sticks (basically) with ribbons attached to them by a piece of wire and a thumb tac. We moved these around in various patterns. Right before performance the other girls and I were in our “dressing room” swinging them around and the tac flew out of mine. We couldn’t find it anywhere, it was absolutely no where to be found. So another girl and I went down the hall in search of another one. Finding one, we returned to the room and immediately when I set foot in, there was a sharp pain in my foot. Yes, my foot had found the tac and the tac had killed my little ballet slipper and was now chewing on my foot. It hurt like you-know-what. Somehow, I still managed to go on that night.
The two years I did that performance were wonderful. It’s something that I just can’t see myself doing now (I pretend to be shy) and that I am almost kind of surprised I did then. Ahhh, the costumes, the music, the glitter, the dancing in a Baptist church… good times, good times.
Possibly you wanted something more of a viewing experience? There have been a lot of those. They range from the Skillet concert in 1998 where my friends sprayed their hair orange which in turn bled onto the headrests of my mom’s minivan and the next day my mom proceeded to tell me how shocked she was about the type of music I like (HA!) to the wonderful performance at the Muny of Showboat that I went to with my mom in 2003. That was amazing. I can’t remember the man’s name now, but he was the one who sang the Old Man River song and it was wonderful - less than halfway into the show he had a standing ovation. I had chills that hot July night when I was a week from exploding a baby into the arms of a doctor.
