Phase In, Phase Out

I saw my eighteen-year-old self at church today: A small-town girl leaving home for the first time, flanked protectively by her mother and two affectionate little siblings.

It was like looking at a reflection from seven years ago.

My mind flitted backward to the moment when my own parents and two younger brothers bid me a tearful farewell and left me to begin life on my own. It was a scene of melodrama, worthy of the big screen: Tears stream down my face. My parents hide their anxiety behind quivering smiles as my little brothers sob openly. I step out of the car with shaky resolution and set my face towards Gammage Auditorium. The van door slams shut, and I turn back to see my brothers pressed up against the rear window, still crying. One brother presses his hand to the glass, fingers spread in a final farewell. The van pulls away.

Skip forward seven years.

My mini-me is sitting alone now, just taking in her surroundings. I sit down next to her and discover that she's been accepted to the music theater program at Fordham. She's from Utah, and she's never left home before. She's the oldest in her family, and, in the words of her precocious 11-year-old sister, "She's an excellent singer, and I'm going to be just like her someday. Broadway is basically my dream." I had a precocious 11-year-old brother when I left for ASU. At that age, he wanted to be just like me too. Remembering that I once had an anxious mother as well as a precocious brother, I turn to her mom.

"She's going to love the singles' ward," I say. "And the area? You couldn't have chosen a better, more exciting spot. It's really safe too!" Her mother looks at me gratefully and begins peppering me with questions.

"It's going to be so hard letting her go," she sighs. "This daughter is our oldest, you know. . ."

Yes. I know.

Since the day when my own parents let their oldest go, I've received my B.M. from ASU, studied in London for six months, served a mission in Ukraine, and made it halfway through an M.M. at the Longy School of Music in Boston. My mind reels. Each phase has been so much more than a checkpoint on a list; it has been an enriching, soul-expanding experience that has broadened my understanding of the world. Is it really possible that so much has happened since I was eighteen? And now I've spent the most incredible summer of my life in New York City, working with Charles Strouse and Richard Maltby, teaching at a prestigious arts camp, and attending--count them!--twenty-two Broadway and off-Broadway productions.

But it's time for another phase to end.

What's next? I have one more year at Longy, and after that, who knows? Maybe my musical--the one being workshopped at BYU this fall--will be ready to workshop in New York by that point. Maybe soon I'll have my own show on Broadway! And Charles Strouse has tentatively offered me a position in connection with the Broadway revival of Annie, which could mean a steady job in New York. Another show of his, Applause, is also being revived in 2013, and I may be able to hop on board for that. Jewel, Charles' secretary, also wants me to send her my theater resume. "Would you be interested in trying for a role in Annie?" she asked me a couple of days ago. "If you'd like, I could set up an audition for you. It wouldn't be for a large role, of course; those will go to people like Sutton Foster. . ." Jewel comes from the world of film, and I don't think she realizes that Broadway doesn't hire non-equity actors. Still, it might be fun just to say that I'd auditioned for a Broadway show!

So far, most roads seem to be leading back to New York. I could also apply to a doctoral program at New England Conservatory, though, or even check out Longy's one-year education degree. We'll see.

In the meantime, I plan to make the most of my last week in New York City. I've waited for Wicked lottery tickets nine times without success, but I'm still hoping that I might get to see it before I leave! I went to Mamma Mia!, Follies, and Sister Act last week (Sister Act and Follies exceeded expectations; Mamma Mia! fell a little short). I'll also be seeing Phantom this coming Monday, Billy Elliot this Wednesday, the Mostly Mozart Festival finale this Friday, and War Horse on Saturday (if student tickets become available before then). By the time I leave, I will have done and seen everything that I originally wanted to, but to the city's credit, I am continually discovering new things to do and see.

I guess that just means I'll have to come back someday.

*****

I've really enjoyed working with Charles. He is a rare man--so exceptional and yet so completely humble. He beams with genuine gratitude every time I compliment his works. I'm just a nobody right now, and he's definitely a somebody, but it's almost as if he attributes his success to luck more than anything else. (I can assure you that isn't true! After three months transcribing his early classical chamber works, I can tell you that his craft is impeccable.)

My family visited New York a couple of weeks ago, and it was a wonderful, whirlwind adventure! Sharing the city is one of my favorite things to do, and sharing it with family is about as good as it gets.

"You have such a wonderful family!" Charles said after chatting briefly with my mom. "I wish you could inject me with whatever it is you've got. . ."

So my mom told him a bit about what, exactly, we've got--namely, a knowledge of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ and all the genuine happiness and optimism such knowledge brings.

"I wish I could believe that," Charles said, after sharing some doubts about his impact on the lives of his children and on the world at large. "I really do! I try to be a good person, but I haven't always been good. And I know God doesn't exist; this world is just too depraved, and it's becoming more and more so. I figured that out when I was sixteen. I wake up every morning with my thoughts in chaos, and the only way I can order them is by composing. Music is all I've got."

I wish I could help Charles see that there really is grand, cosmic order behind everything--that life here is just a fleeting moment, and that good is ultimately a more powerful force than evil. I think he catches a glimpse of that when he composes. He thinks he's creating a happy fantasy for himself when, really, he's tapping into truth.

Isn't that the power of art?