I was in a youth Christmas show this past weekend. Odd because I'm not really an actor and I'm not really a youth. We did the 12 Plays of Christmas - one for each verse of the famous Christmas song that seems to go on forever and ends each time with David Cassidy on a fruity branch.
If you get that, you're my kind of people.
The trouble with being in the same show as your 13 year old is that there are all those other something-teen year olds who don't respond to suggestions, comments, requests, threats, glares, or consequences when it comes to requiring their silence back stage.
Quiet teen is an oxymoron. Especially if both genders are present. So, I went on for my sketch (#7, the swimming swans - singin carols in the rain), and then I removed myself as far from the noisy parties as possible.
It was not my responsibility to silence them. But no one else seemed to be taking it either. My mind drifts to a quote about it taking a village.... but I'm thinking these teens probably stormed and pillaged the village previously and left no survivors.
Oh, don't get me wrong. There were some stellar standouts. What was that again, though, about one bad apple? (Oh, sorry, that was Jackson 5, not the Partridge Family).
Well, with this silly late night walk down alzheimer's lane drawing to a close, I will park my walker and take out my dentures and try to sleep while blocking out the lingering echoes of 20 pubescents singing "I want a hippopotomus for Christmas" at the top of their lungs in the church foyer right as worship was starting.......
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