In 1946, I felt very grown-up for a six-year-old. I asked every playmate the same question; “Have you ever seen a live stage show?” The unanimous answer was “No.”
I knew I could put on a stage show and charge everyone two cents each. I would surprise mom with a jar full of pennies. The empty one-car garage at the rear of our property was ideal for the show.
Whenever mom was at the clothesline, I rushed into my parents’ bedroom to find what I could use as costumes. The huge cedar chest had a large flag and a soldier’s hat.
Then, on to their closet. I stood on a chair to reach the wide-brimmed hat on the top shelf. Removing the hat, it revealed a box of what looked like tea bags.
Curious, I opened one and exclaimed, “Oh my gosh, I hit the jackpot!”
There was a skinny white balloon in there! I kept opening the foil packages hoping to find a red or blue one to match the flag. No such luck. They were all white.
Nevertheless it was exciting to unexpectedly have decorations.
It was showtime. Ten boys standing, with their hand over their hearts, sang, “God Bless America.”
The audience then sang and clapped their hands to “She’ll be Coming Round the Mountain.” I played rhythm on the washboard using a thimble on my thumb.
They were wide-eyed during my performance of “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot,” watching my every ballet move. I put on my holster and pistols for “Pistol Packin’ Momma.”
Suddenly, the garage doors flew open, and mom rushed in, shouting, “This show is over!
Everyone out! I cried, “But mom, I have a jar full of pennies for you!”
She answered, “You charged for the show?” She then emptied the jar of pennies and gave everyone their money back.
I was embarrassed and disappointed. I had looked forward to surprising mom.
I never knew what I did wrong. However, mum knew best. Of course, she had a baby about nine months later.
Only kidding.
