All my posts this season are “inspired by” a letter of the alphabet!

Remember Little Orphan Annie? I only mention it because I remember playing one of the orphans as a child with the local amateur dramatics association. Annie is the story of a plucky little orphan girl who gets picked by mistake to be adopted by a grumpy millionaire. She wins him over and apart from a few glitches along the way, they end up happily ever after. Through the miracle of a mix of good luck and being in the right place at the right time, Annie offers us a fairy tale that is more saccharine than real. But that said, who expects sane behaviour from people who burst into song at the slightest provocation?

I have difficulty throwing off my assumed cynical attitude, because I’m dragged along, even when I actually sometimes want to be miserable, by that vital energy, that impatience to live life that I had when I was nine, and that as an adult I’ve perhaps lost. Well, I’m still an impatient person, but what I’m getting at is that the essence of musicals melts my cold heart. Wouldn’t you like to live in a musical? Where you could dance and sing when you were sad, excited, happy or depressed? Where you could just let go? I’m not ashamed to admit it; I would love it. And not because they have happy endings (just watch Les Misérables), but because they make me smile. A disclaimer; not all musicals. Some are rubbish, let’s face it. But others warm my soul. They only try to vindicate life itself and at no point do (a lot of them) take themselves seriously. They can make us feel alive, capable of anything. They can fill us with energy. They tap into emotions, dreams. They offer us an absurd escape.

Maybe I just want to tread the boards again, or maybe I just want to have a soundtrack to my life. When you are in a great moment of doubt, of glory, of sadness, and violins, piano, an orchestra start to play behind you, and people start to react to your mood, and break into a synchronised choreography, well, it would be something magical. Or at least a lot of fun. There is nothing wrong with wanting that, if we keep a little perspective.

I am too old now, I see things more clearly, or at least I fool myself into believing that I do, which helps me in daily life, it has to be said. However, the truth is that sometimes I miss that girl I was. And it’s not just nostalgia. She herself lifts my spirits when I’m down. One thing is to be realistic and see life as it is; a continuous struggle with little hope. Another thing is that we would go crazy without living in denial occasionally, wouldn’t we? Trying to stifle what we have been and what we continue to be is not necessarily supremely productive. I truly believe that we do not change deep down, we simply evolve according to our experiences and circumstances. The child is still there inside. It is trite, I know, in the context of the world in which we are living. But I am going to try to abandon my usual cynicism, and look for some good, celebrate what is beautiful; the love between family and friends, or the ability of nature to keep on going, no matter what. The circle of life. I’m reminded of the Elizabethan world view, the idea of the wheel of fortune. When you reach rock bottom, the only way is up.

Anyway, as Annie sings:
When I think of a day that’s grey and lonely, I just stick out my chin and grin and say…The sun’ll come out tomorrow, so you’d better hang on ‘till tomorrow, come what may… Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love you, tomorrow, you’re only a day away.

We suffer and survive. We will survive our past and our present. And when things look bleakest, we still have no choice but to continue. The sun will rise.

Tomorrow.

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T is For…