Little m Long a

It’s not very often that my wife and I get a night to ourselves.  Our Z’s keep us constantly on our toes and usually by the time we manage any significant separation we’re too tired to even think about doing something for ourselves.  I’ve heard the term date night tossed around amongst those with children.  They say it keeps the marriage and personal relationships healthy.  I believe in our situation a more appropriate term would be prison break.  After all, when we do finally manage to find time to ourselves I feel quite like a prisoner on the lam having finally tunnelled my way to freedom using nothing more than a plastic comb and a toothbrush now constantly looking over my shoulder as I’m sure the hounds have taken hold of my scent.  Always in the back of my mind I hear the taunts, ”What we have here…is failure to communicate.”

Such was the case this past Friday night when my wife and I, after months of scheming, digging and planning finally made a break for it.  We were practically running out of the door as I shouted instructions to the babysitter.  “I just changed the twins, no one has eaten and I’m sure everyone is hungry, put them to bed about 8.  Wait, put the twins to bed at 8 and let the older ones stay up til 9 or 9:15…by 11:00 at the latest!  No tv. OK maybe a movie, there’s pasta in the pantry, here’s some money for a pizza.  Gotta go.  Good luck!”

In the background five little Z’s stood looking ever so perplexed not saying a word.  I could see it in their eyes.  “Mommy and Daddy are leaving…at the same time?!  But whatever shall we do?”  I kept telling myself, “Don’t look back, don’t look back.  If you slow down you’re doomed.  Keep going man, Run! Run like the wind!”

My wife had secured tickets to the national touring play Wicked months ago.  Honestly, I wasn’t all that keen on heading out to a musical in one of the few if not only chances of freedom I would see for quite some time.  But I was going out and figured it best not to complain.  Besides, we also had dinner reservations and the very thought of dining out sans kids almost had me giddy.

I had no idea what this play was about, other than it’s about a witch and somehow tied to The Wizard of Oz.  Of course I could have picked up a newspaper or read a review but that would have required an effort on my part and also have revealed that I may have been actually more interested in the play than I really was.  The very theme of the play had me a little on edge as it was.  I mean, come on now, The Wizard of Oz?!  I grew up with that movie, loving that movie.

Every Sunday night The Wonderful World of Disney filled the screen of our little 17 inch black and white Zenith and at least once a year, twice if we got lucky, they played the Wizard of Oz.  Yes, I did say black and white.  I don’t even know if they still make a black and white television set.  And of course we had no remote control, but to what would we change the channel anyway?  We only got reception for three stations.  My mother’s brilliant idea for combating the boredom of sitting through a program you did not care to see while waiting for your show to air was to place a fish tank on the shelf above the television set.  That way, there was always something interesting to watch in the living room.  Funny thing was, it actually worked.  Those fish were mesmerizing.

Anyway, I fell deeply, madly in love with Judy Garland.  Much more so, according to my wife, than a normal heterosexual male should.  What can I say?  You never forget your first love.  Mine was Judy… and that little girl in Escape to Witch Mountain but that’s another story.  On a whole other level The Wizard of Oz instilled a value system in my life, values like good vs. evil, right vs. wrong.  Values like faith, trust, friendship and honesty reinforced year after year until they become a part of your very soul, your existence.  To alter such a story or any of it’s characters after my 42 years of indoctrination is unfathomable.

And yet, that is exactly what Winnie Holzman and Stephen Schwartz did in Wicked.  My whole belief system was turned topsy turvy.  It was apocalyptic, human sacrifice, dogs and cats living together…mass hysteria and Glenda the Good Witch is a beee–otch!  The Wicked Witch or Elphaba (L.F. Baum) is quite frankly the most kind, pure-hearted, gentle and misunderstood person in the world.  Never in my 42 years of existence would I have ever imagined myself saying or thinking such things.

This show was amazing! It didn’t hurt that Victoria Matlock, the girl playing the misunderstood Elphaba had a set of pipes that sent shivers up your spine.  The girl can flat out sing and she sold the show and the story to me.  I am a believer.

I wholeheartedly recommend that if this show comes anywhere near to where you may be, see it.  No if ands or buts—SEE THIS SHOW.  Hands down, the best play I have ever seen.  Let’s face it, any play that can alter a lifetime of ingrained beliefs in a matter of two and a half hours and have me cursing Glenda, now that’s a good play!