I can picture it vividly. In fact, it may be one of my earliest memories. I remember sitting in the bleachers at the Donelson-Hermitage YMCA in 1988. I was a forced fan of my older sister’s soccer team. (Now the thought of 5-year-olds “playing soccer” sounds kind of hilarious to me.) The team was in large part male-dominated but the Sutton clan believed in learning the value of the “team sport” early—before other girls even started playing I guess. I, being a mere 3-years-old, was no avid sports fan and had no real interest in joining the other kids in either running the field or kicking the ball. I did however light up one day when I heard the announcement that the soccer team would be acquiring a squad of cheerleaders to root on the home team. I have some distant memory that perhaps the parents were just looking for another activity to engage the siblings of the players on the team. Soccer cheerleaders. Now as an adult I realize at that time I had never heard of soccer cheerleaders and I’ve never since heard tell of them but all I wanted in 1988 was to be one. These girls ran out to the fields in beautiful costumes (in sports they’re known as “uniforms”) and got to do a show for the crowd! What’s not to love? To admire? To utterly die to be a part of?
Now it might have been the idiocy of “soccer cheerleaders” or the fact that I was but 3 or that I was never properly invited but I did not become a soccer cheerleader that year.
The snapshot in my brain is of the soccer cheerleaders running by skirt pleats flying in the breeze. One such cheerleader spots the look of longing in my barely non-toddler eyes and exclaims to me “You’re so lucky you’re not wearing this! I’m freezing to death!”
In that moment, all I wanted in my 3-year-old world was to be freezing to death three pleats to the wind.
Not only did those girls get to perform and look cute doing it but they were doing something together! They were all focused on the same goal. They were really a part of something. I’ll never forget longing to be a part of something.
22 years later that same. feeling. crept up in me again!
It was the day of the first dress rehearsal for Grease.
Backstory:
As you may or may not know I spent February-June at the Wohlfhart Haus Dinner Theatre in Wytheville, VA. I originally signed a contract to play “Liesl” in “The Sound of Music.” In those days I was applying for arts marketing internships in Washington D.C. for the summer. I had every intention of playing that amazing role in that amazing show and moving on to start a career off stage. What I didn’t plan on was being turned down flat by the theatre companies to which I applied. (All of them.) So I looked for my next best possible employment. I auditioned for Grease at WHDT—the show next on deck to be produced. After giving (and this is by no means an exaggeration) my WORST audition attempt ever I somehow got lucky and was cast to cover the role of Patty for the 2nd half of the run. So after SOM closed I attended rehearsals for Grease even though I wouldn’t be performing with the cast for an additional month.
Ok back to dress rehearsal. All the women in the cast were getting ready to perform “Beauty School Dropout.” You may know that in this dream sequence the girls wear exaggerated salon gear that is reminiscent of Vegas showgirls: headpieces adorned with curlers that add a foot in height, shiny white capes trimmed with feathers. It’s dramatic and a bit silly.
But what wasn’t silly to me was this strange longing to wear this costume. As I sat in the audience and saw my fellow cast members all looking strangely alike wearing the same thing I had a flashback to the soccer field. I just wanted to be a part of it. I felt like one might run by me and say: “You’re so lucky you’re not wearing this! I’m freezing to death!” Perhaps illogical, I felt transported to 1988. 3 years old. Not cold. And dying to be.
Maybe that’s a really universal sensation. Or maybe it’s that longing that draws the unique and colorful to a life in the theatre. I remember the moment that I actually and finally DID get to put that most disgusting costume on (it was made of shower curtains and I don’t know if you know this—shower curtains do. not. breathe!) and I felt so privileged to do so. I felt like I was a part of something. A team. A cause. A show. I felt grateful to be performing, grateful to be delighting an audience, and grateful to be alive.
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