The girl and the stage

When I boarded the elevator in my building around 11 o' clock on the Sunday morning of a long holiday weekend, a mother and three children were already on. I could tell they were not residents, partly because I’d never seen them, but mostly from their shared excitement; they were going somewhere.

And dressed for it; each was in a new outfit. They were young enough that Maman chose: coordinated tees and shorts for the six and eight year old boys, a ditsy-flowered skirt and pink cardigan for the girl, about ten. They were a good stretch from adolescence, when their slouching-S postures will sag under hoodies. They looked like a catalog page: The boys’ ball caps were pristine; the girl’s braids firm and precise.

They’re not from here, I thought, noticing the careful ensembles and alert cheer. Maman spoke to them with calm precision. “We will have lunch with them”, she said, “ and after that, the theatre.”

Photo: Cirque du Soleil

This word floats past the boys, but “theatre” electrifies the girl. Her already large blue eyes widen with a pleasure pulled straight from her heart. She’s living for this, I thought.

I wanted to ask what they were seeing, but it didn't matter. (A guess: Cirque du Soleil's "Alegria".)

I felt grateful that the mother brought her children to a stage; live shows are now eclipsed by digital entertainment. I wanted the girl to have her thrill when the orchestra tunes up, the curtain lifts. The brothers, too—but it was she who counted the hours.

I was that girl once, taken from a small town with no year-round theatre or concert hall, for an annual trip to Chicago, where we would see a play or ballet—and once, at my mother's whim, an 11 p.m. cabaret performance. (The chanteuse was so surprised to see a child that she visited our table to ask what I was doing up. "Drinking a Shirley Temple, same as you", Mom retorted, eyeing her highball.)

'Patron of the arts' is a quaint term, partly because of high prices for live performance versus the broadcast and online options. Montréal still offers opportunities for reasonably-priced performances, and in summer, the city is studded with festivals from baroque to electronica to traditional Quebec dance and music. At the market, a young dancer handed me a flyer for the Festival Quartiers Danses, in September,

Photo: La Presse

Montréal's famous Jazz Festival begins June 27; a friend's coming. We bought tickets for a few concerts, but the many free stages will bring our average price per show way down.

An abundance of the performing arts (especially when affordable) makes people happier. I can't prove it, but see it on faces when a crowd gathers, whether for the annual free opera in my street at the close of Italian Week or a subway-station jug band.

At each roll-down of the Passage's shutters, I like to make a wish, and this summer's is that you, too, will take take a young person to a live, local performance, something you think she'd like.

I'm guessing you already have an idea!