One Last Bow

You remember Margaret Knight, don’t you?

You have probably used her invention in the last week and didn’t even know it because history has forgotten Margaret Knight.

In 1858, Margaret invented the flat-bottomed paper bag.

Paper bags had been around hundreds of years but no one had ever been able to master one that stood up on its own.

Until Margaret.

Humans have very short memories. We live in the here and now and have a tendency to forget all of those legendary people who came before us.

This weekend, I had the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to dance with one of those legendary people in the Nutcracker.

Miss Alison. The founder of South Georgia Ballet.

A couple of years ago, I had mentioned to the current Artistic Director, Melissa, that I would love to see Alison on stage just one time before I was too old to be up there with her.

During hundreds and hundreds of SGB performances over the years, she has always been out there in the dark somewhere, directing this show but never in the spotlight.

Alison deserved to be in the spotlight at least one time for all her efforts.

Well, this year, my Christmas wish came true.

When I showed up for my first rehearsal back in October, I discovered that for the first time in the twenty-five years that I have been in the Nutcracker, Herr Drosselmeyer would have a dance partner.

Obviously, Alison is a much, much better dancer than I am so most of our rehearsals were spent with her whispering the steps of the dances to me or dragging me around the stage like an unwanted piece of luggage.

And I didn’t care. I was just glad she was there. She deserved this special appearance.

Probably nobody involved in the Nutcracker knows that better than me. Not the director. Not the ballet mistress or other instructors. Not the adult party guests and other adults in the room. And especially not the young members of the company.

In fact, there was no one in the room, young or old, who knew Alison’s story quite like I did. Because I was the only one who has been there from the beginning.

Alison first came to Cairo back in 1996 to start a little studio teaching dance, theater and music. Back then nobody knew her.

She wasn’t from here. She was just a stranger with a dream of providing a place where young people could learn to love performing arts as much as she did.

My lovely wife and I had three small children by then and we wanted them to grow up participating in something more than the two main activities offered in our small town: playing football and eating fried chicken.

We both had a love and appreciation for the arts and wanted that for our children, too,

Alison’s little studio was the perfect place for that desire to be planted.

At first, not a whole lot of families entrusted their children to this outsider so Alison’s first few classes were rather lean. But that was okay. She gave every student every ounce of energy she had.

And it didn’t take long for us to realize that this was more than just a dance school.

Alison became a second mama to these kids. She loved every one of them like her own and demanded the kind of behavior from each student that she would expect if they were her own children. Respect. Kindness. Hard work.

My children became the well-adjusted, respectful, hard-working adults they are today as much because of Alison’s influence on them as from me and my wife.

If this all sounds like a fairy tale with a happy ever after ending…

… well, it’s not.

Most of the parents and supporters of South Georgia Ballet saw all of the smiles and grand leaps on stage. But few saw what it was like when the lights were turned off at night.

Things were hard. Alison barely had enough students or sold enough tickets to cover expenses. She never got rich. In fact, the longer she ran the studio, and the more elaborate her shows became, the deeper and deeper of a hole Alison found herself in.

It became overwhelming and finally, after much anguish and soul-searching, Alison gave up control of the dance company that she had founded. It had just grown too big for her to manage alone.

She eventually left SGB altogether and took a job teaching dance in the school system.

I know at times she has probably felt like she was a failure.

She has never said so out loud but I have see it in her eyes when she would attend performances. There was great pride but also a deep sense of ‘what if.’

Had she done something wrong? Or not been good enough?

 

I’m sure Alison has asked herself that many times over the years.

 

At our performance on Saturday night, when she made her first entrance in the party scene, Alison was met with loud cheers and applause.

 

Maybe the young dancers on the stage or in the wings didn’t know who this lady in the red dress was, but the audience did.

 

The auditorium was filled with former students, alumni and parents of children who had been taught and loved by Miss Alison. They knew who this woman in the red dress was and just how truly special she was.

 

I was watching from the other wing, waiting for my entrance, and this spontaneous applause truly touched me. So, during the intermission, I sought out Alison and asked her if she would be willing to come out on stage with me at the end and take my bow.

 

The adult party guests are not featured in the curtain call so I knew she would not come back on stage.

 

I also knew she should.

 

During some of our conversations during rehearsals, Alison had told me that she was going to retire in a couple of years and move up to Albany to be closer to her family.

 

This year’s Nutcracker may be the last time many of us will ever see her on stage. Or ever see her again at all.

 

Certainly she couldn’t just fade away. Or be forgotten.

 

She wasn’t Margaret Knight, the inventor of the flat-bottomed paper bag.

 

Doomed to be forgotten to history.

 

No, she was the person who had started all of this. She had built it from nothing with her own blood, sweat and tears.

 

She would not just fade away. Forgotten.

 

So, when the curtain call came, I escorted Alison across the stage and allowed her to stand in the spotlight.

 

For the first time. One last time.

 

And just for a moment, bask in the applause and love of all of the lives she has changed forever.

 

I wanted her to know that she had not been a failure. This was all because of her.

 

She had purchased this moment with her life.

 

And she deserved one last bow.