So today is a Friday, and I don’t have school on Fridays, ’cause I arranged my schedule like that. Anyway, my mom called home around noon-ish to ask if my Dad and I wanted to go out to lunch. We did, so we went to pick her up at the school she works at.
Okay, another thing you should know – my dad has like… an AMAZING gut feeling. Seriously, when I was in about seventh grade, he was dropping me off at school and he looked straight at me as I was getting out of the car, and said, “Meg… don’t get sick. I have a feeling… Don’t get sick.” And guess what? That day, I ended up going home after lunch with a 103 degree fever. Please, if you’re worried, don’t panic. I get sick very seldom, and I’ve always gotten high-grade fevers. 101 is when I’m feeling good. I think the hottest I’ve ever known myself to be was around 105-106… and that’s scary. (It was around the time I had an infection that caused the doctors to take out my appendix for no apparent reason.) Another four or five degrees and I would have been losing brain cells or having seizures.
Anyway, so, like I said, my dad was driving to my mom’s school, which is only about 10 – 15 minutes away, and he says, “Korean”. (As in, what type of food my mom will want.) I nodded, knowing that my mom likes Korean. When we go out for lunch with mom, it’s usually one out of the following: Indian, Thai, Chinese, or Korean. And then, lo and behold, we pick up my mom, and she says, “Let’s go to Korean.” I threw my head back and roared, “OH MY GOD! Dad, you are amazing!” And we all shared a good laugh over that.
So we went to the Korean place, and guess who’s there? Miss Violet and Mrs. Burbank, the Director and Headmistress of the school I graduated from (which is also where my mom used to work; it’s the same company, just a different campus). It actually took me a second to register Mrs. Burbank’s name, though I recognized her face immediately. She and Miss Violet both gave me a hug. (Unfortunately, the only thing that my mom seemed to be able to say about me to Mrs. Burbank was that I was dark because we just got back from camping last weekend.)
Anyway, about Mrs. Burbank. She was my brother’s fourth grade teacher, and she was the director for the play I was in in seventh grade: West Side Story. I should mention that it is completely, 100% her fault that I ended up going through a West Side Story “Phase”. I was in seventh grade and we found out that we would be doing “West Side Story” for our Spring Program (we do two shows a year, per grade) and Mrs. Burbank was going to be directing it. I had absolutely no idea what it was, but I gathered from what she was saying that it was a musical. So, I rented it within the week or so and watched it… twice in a row on the first day, and then about once a day for every day following until we had to return it. (I put it on my Christmas list that year and ended up with two copies.)
Then we had to try out for the parts. Honestly, I was much more self-assured and confident in my vocal abilities in the seventh grade, as I was one of the few in my class who seemed to enjoy the programs no matter what and could carry a tune. Of course, I tried out for Maria. And I got it. Mrs. Burbank told me later that she seriously considered giving me Anita because I’m “spunky” and she wanted some fire for Anita, but we needed somebody who would be able to carry the vocals for the lead, so I got Maria. (I was also a bit cocky, I think, because I assumed that I would get the part by default even though she had held tryouts…)
Anyway, I have so many memories about that show; too many – I’ll have to go into more detail later, because this post is already too long. Anyway, today Mrs. Burbank told me that she was in New York recently and watched West Side Story on Broadway (I’m so jealous!) and when she was watching it, she thought of me. Wasn’t that the sweetest thing? It totally made my day! And I had “I Feel Pretty” in my head for a couple of hours after that.
Thank goodness I wasn’t stuck on singing it out loud, like I was in the seventh and eighth grade, because that probably would have driven my dad insane, and that would not have been good, since we practiced driving today. (Yes, I’m eighteen years old and I’ve only been behind the wheel four times.) I remember, in seventh and eighth grade, I could recite and sing the movie almost all the way through, I had it so thoroughly memorized.
Anyway, you’ve probably had enough of this musical for one post, so I’ll save my memories for another day. I’ll be writing soon!
Be4TheCurtainRises 