T'IS THE SEASON FOR PAGEANTS AND PLAYS

T'is the season. The house is decorated to the nines. Nutcrackers abound, on guard against Scrooge-like behavior. Scores of Santas dance around the house: tall ones, small ones, Santas on vacation, Santas who sing, Santas who light up fiberoptically. A battery operated train chugs around the Christmas tree to the delight of my granddaughter, who loves to give Beanie Baby critters a ride on the open cattle car. It is a time for pageants, programs and plays. The Glacier Symphony Orchestra and Chorus are about to perform “The Messiah” as they do every year. Schools hold pageants re-enacting the Nativity scene in unique and clever ways, hoping to keep the play relevant and entertaining; or the Nutcracker Ballet; or other programs showcasing their children in Christmas or winter settings. The local dance school, Lakeside Dance Studio, last night offered their own rendition of “The Twelve Dayes of Christmas.” CharleeRose, three going on sixty, has only attended two rounds of beginner ballet. Even so, she got to be a part of the pageant in the fourth number, “Four Calling Birds.” The entire pageant was brilliant, with exciting covers to mostly traditional music and wonderful choreography designed to fit the abilitiy levels of each set of performers. Hats off to Cara Campbell, who put it all together. The four little girls in CharleeRose's group would have stolen the show just on the basis of cute, but each of the twelve numbers had its brilliance. Programs like this can get boring in spots but not last night. Of course, I'm not just a proud Opa, I am an expert on stage presence. My own experience on the stage was a major success in my high school “senior skit,” a few years back, with a script that suited my abilities and my shyness. It was the set up for a really bad joke, the kind high school seniors love and think is a pearl or a peach. My part was to lie down on the stage, covered in a sheet. Two “teenage lovers” are visiting a graveyard. On cue, I lift a headstone with the word, “Earnest,” on it. The lump of me on the stage is now a grave. The girl of the sweethearts looks at the headstone and says, “Oh, look—that's my Uncle Earnest.” She then looks closer and adds, “And there are two worms making love in dead Earnest.” I warned you it was bad. The crowd loved it. It was the Sixties. At any rate, last night was CharleeRose's first public performance. She nailed it, unphased by the audience. She even got her first billing. The printed program got her name wrong, omitting her last name altogether and apparently thinking her full name was Charlie Rose. Maybe that will be her stage name. I have two copies of the program. They might be worth something someday. They are, after all, precious to me now. What the recital reminded me once again was the remarkable fact that there is so much talent out there among us. Even a small place like Kalispell, Montana, has a full symphony orchestra and a plethora of great, energetic and trainable kids running around, waiting for Santa, but not idly. I suspect we all have talent somewhere. Giving voice to that talent is like singing to the heavens and earning thunderous applause. I also know my own talent does not extend to the stage, but I certainly can appreciate anyone whose talent does, especially my three year old CharleeRose, just at the start. Well, it's almost time to don the red suit and beard, and warm up the reindeer. Don't need a pillow. Just one of my talents.