BroadwayGirlNYC: Tony Night with Grandma

Everyone in my family is a theatre-lover, but no two so much as Grandma and I.  I grew up watching her perform in local productions, as Miss Adelaide and Nellie Forbush and Ado Annie.  She made her living as a church singer, but her real love was always musicals, and she spent much of her free time learning songs from them just for fun.  When I was a little girl, I remember going through the cabinets next to her piano, which were full of sheet music from all of the legendary composers -- Gershwin and Cole Porter and Rogers & Hammerstein and Sondheim.  I'd beg her to sing them for me, and when I was lucky she'd indulge me with a verse or two of "My Favorite Things" or "Wouldn't it be Loverly". 

For my tenth birthday, Grandma took me to see Les Miserables.  My parents had gone a month earlier, and brought home the cast album; I'm not sure they ever imagined that I -- who at the time owned exactly one cassette tape, featuring Barbie & the Rockers -- could possibly be interested in a sophisticated musical based on a 19th Century French literary work.  Man, were they wrong! I played it repeatedly, every day & night, singing along with Eponine and even crying real tears as I listened to "A Little Fall of Rain" for the umpteenth time.  When Grandma heard how much I'd taken to Les Mis -- the first musical that ever felt like "mine" -- she was thrilled at the idea of bringing me to see it in person. 

Les Mis was just the first of countless shows I saw with Grandma, as I grew from a child to a teenager to a college student and then an adult.  I remember that she always treated me like a grownup, no matter how young or old I was.  She was curious about my opinions of the actors, encouraged me to be critical, and basked in my delight when a show seemed just perfect.  We'd go out for milkshakes or cheeseburgers after the shows and talk about which parts we liked best, and which men were the most handsome.  She'd tell me about her own theatrical experiences, and I'd ask for details like how it felt under the hot lights, and whether it was hard to get all that makeup off, and if it felt as magical as I imagined to bow in front of an audience as they erupted into applause.  She had a signature sparkle in her blue eyes, and it lit up even more when she'd tell me the tales of her life as a performer.  I never got tired of her stories.

That first Tony Awards we watched together was such a blast.  We ate too much popcorn and toffee, imitated the dance routines, and made ridiculous bets like how many of the nominees would show up wearing hats.  I was still young enough to have a bedtime, but she let me stay up past it so I could see who won Best Musical.  Then when the ceremony was over, I went to bed in the room that used to be my Dad's, thinking about how someday, I'd move to New York City and become a part of Broadway myself.

From there, it became a tradition.  Even after I went away to college, I made it a point to get back to town in time to watch the Tonys with my Grandma.  We didn't miss a year for almost a decade.

In fact, we didn't miss a year until I made good on the dream that she had unwaveringly supported -- when I moved to New York City to find my part of the magic and music that is Broadway.

And here I am now -- having this week live-tweeted the Tony Nominations and planning my own bash on the evening of the Awards.  I'm certain it will be an incredible party, as Tony Night is every year.  But no matter how much fun I'm having in New York on June 13, there will be a part of me that's still that teenaged dreamer, curled up on Grandma's couch, cheering on my favorites through the TV screen.