When I was growing up, my life revolved around community theatre. I was in my first musical at the age of eight, and I spent the next decade appearing in an average of two shows each year. It was exhilarating, and for a time, I thought I'd make theatre my career.
In all those years, I only acted with my family once, but oh, what a once it was! My sister hadn't joined the clan yet, but my brother was ten months old and lasted through the entire show, carried about in my mother's arms. I still remember the amazed audience members coming up to my mom after the show and cooing that they couldn't believe a real baby could be so well-behaved.
(My dad liked those mutton chops so much that he kept them for about a year after the performances ended. One of the many embarrassing moments of my childhood.)
The show? "Scrooge: The Stingiest Man in Town". It's a musical adaptation of (obviously) "A Christmas Carol", and in my youthful innocence, I always thought the director had written this adaptation. Turns out a little judicious searching on youtube today revealed the fact that this musical is actually a classic, staring Basil Rathbone (swash and buckle, anyone?) as Scrooge.
You know what? I still remember all the lyrics to this song, and when the DVD of the Rathbone version comes in the mail next week, I bet I'll be able to sing along to the whole thing. The memories of growing up backstage and onstage are really fond ones for me, but there was never another experience like sharing the stage with my family.
And the best part of the play, in my memory at least? The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come was a tall dude on roller-blades (hidden beneath his cape, of course). It was eerie and funny all at the same time.