As a high school student growing up in California, I made the decision the summer of my senior year to change high schools. I liked theater arts, had enjoyed two wonderful drama teachers in elementary and early high school, who both stoked a fire in me for performance. To this day, presenting in front of groups is something I enjoy, and the emotional intelligence benefits of theater study should be reviewed and commented on by someone smarter than I. Looking back, I realize now that perhaps I simply figured out early how to raise an eyebrow, memorize lines, and speak in an accent a few months before everyone else had, and that I actually had developed an affinity for helping people with passion create what they pictured. I met another wonderful drama teacher the summer between my junior and senior year named Micki Hunt, a beautiful soul who loved butterflies and all humans and had the superhero ability to inspire others. She convinced me to transfer to an SCPA (School for the Creative and Performing Arts) high school for my senior year and challenged me to try and become a bigger fish in a bigger pond.
So I transferred. Picture "Fame" the mythical school from television, where kids danced through the halls, broke into song for no particular reason, and tech class had to do with lights and sound versus press breaks and welding equipment. Just kidding, they usually had a reason for breaking into song.
I can say that I competed in Shakespeare competitions, wore costumes in jazz ensemble class, and probably tore several bystanders eardrums as I attempted to learn to sing. Wearing makeup on stage, learning choreography, and attempting to not screw up the beautiful voices of your friends was a never ending challenge. To this day I go low and deep in church to make sure the loud singer next to me always shines and never has to hear my gobbledygook.
I even tried ballet, if you count dating a ballet dancer.
I had never experienced personality overload, until I came to this school. No one could be a wallflower, there were no walls to hide on.
Micki passed away within a year, a loss for her family, students, and faculty. One of the fondest memories I have to this day was speaking at her memorial service. I was extremely nervous, something that does not often happen for me, and I walked toward the podium with a prepared speech in hand. It was a beautiful day, and the memorial was hosted in an outdoor amphitheater in a park in Chula Vista. The amphitheater was filled, standing room only. The butterflies in my stomach were fluttering rapidly. At that moment reflecting on Micki before I went on to speak, I recalled that she had butterflies displayed everywhere in her life, in her room, stuck to her car windows, etc. It was her thing. I decided at that moment to explain this feeling, improvising the speech, and sharing from my butterfly filled stomach, how I believed the butterflies we all feel when trying to do something we are nervous about doing, was simply Micki reminding you she was there with you. I saved the program from Micki's service, and one of my favorite Micki sayings printed on the program was, "If you don't stand for something, you will fall for anything"
So today, I stood for Bunny #642
Bunny #642 practiced her choreography, went to rehearsal, dressed in tights, and tried ballet.
I realize that if I had boys, the odds of me ever attending a ballet recital after high school would be about the same as the odds of me winning the lotto, but as a daddy with daughters, you really must stand for Bunny #642. After spending that year as man #4 in musicals, tripping over my own feet in shows, I had decided I wouldn't need to sing or dance again for my life to be complete.
But for Bunny #642, it could be different
Dropped off over an hour early for her performance, Bunny #642 was excited. Hair in a ballet bun, dancing tights on, dress for post performance in her bag, she was ready. Perhaps somewhere in the hundreds of children and bunches of teachers, my daughter will find someone to inspire her.
Snow White, the ballet, would never be the same for Bunny #642
Hundreds of ballet students were whisked into the dressing room, prepped, and staged for the curtain. Ages ranged from 4 to 18, beginners to future SCPA students, and the lights began to dim.
The curtain shot open after a brief thank you from the director.
Bees, deer, fairies, dwarfs began to prance about as if they were roaming the halls of Fame, gliding through the air with grace and gratitude. I watched in imagined pain as children bounced up onto their toes and twirled, thinking that at any moment, some one's ankles would break from the stress of landing and prancing or I'd see a miniature version of myself on stage, half a beat too slow but smiling along. Several near collisions and a few late moving children aside, the ballet was exceptional and entertaining enough to hold the attention of my 4 year old for almost 2 hours.
Bunny #642 hopped onto the stage about mid way in. She glanced at her spacing, or more so, to make sure we didn't have a 16 bunny pileup, then hopped her way into a tail shaking hopping exposition with the gaggle of white ear clad children around her. She finished, and hopped back into my heart off stage.
When the curtain came together and reopened for bows, Bunny #642 glanced into the audience to find her family. She waved vigorously with a silly grin when she made eye contact, and her smile widened, as if she had been accepted to Julliard.
Bunny #642 smiled as she hopped off stage and into her dress. She got to pick where to go to dinner as a reward for showing no fear in front of people.
As I recalled my fears, self imposed limitations on learning the arts, and the gratitude I had for the several special teachers I was fortunate to have, I looked over at the smile of Bunny #642. Ear to big old ear. Perhaps she had found a teacher who loved butterflies and humans, perhaps it's simply impossible to be dressed like a bunny and not smile, I have no idea.
I am grateful for the ability to stand for Bunny #642, and give her a round of applause. At the point my bunny becomes a thespian, a jock, a book worm, the straight face in musicals singing soft so others around her shine, or whatever she becomes, I will try never to forget the fun memories of her hopping across the stage with a smile. Children represent some of the best parts of humanity, and bunnies, well we all know how cool bunnies are.
Have a carrot, your father is proud you had no fear, you aren't a wallflower, and I can't wait for the next time I get to stand and clap for whatever you are in, even if I have to sit through something I decided long ago I didn't need to sit through again.
If you ever get nervous, and feel butterflies in your stomach, it's just someone you love reminding you they are there standing with you, Bunny #642.
bvd
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