Sunday, October 01, 2006
Cool Boys Don't Clap
Yesterday I went to see "Jersey Boys" on Broadway. As I've posted previously, my husband #2 (not the father of either of my children, those would be #1 and #3) is a Local One stagehand and although we were only married for a short time, he has continued to be a family friend. My daughter was 3-5 years old when we were together, and he remains a wonderful presence in her life.
About once a year he'll get us house seats for a show that he's working, or that a friend of his is working. This year it was "Jersey Boys" and he came along, as well as my daughter and her boyfriend. He's 20, she's 21. Deliver me.
Remember that book "Smart Women, Foolish Choices"? Uh huh. This is Mr. No Social Skills, WAY too cool to applaud, with the "I'm so bored" look on his face that is SO endearing. Although this was only the second time I met him, there was no attempt to impress me. No Eddie Haskell, he. She is warm, open, adorable if somewhat immature...and living with this guy whose idol is Charles Bukowski, and whose career goal is to become head cashier at Home Depot (a job that my daughter has to drive him to, because he has no license).
Having been exposed to the theater at such a young age, my daughter has always been drawn to it. Husband #2, in addition to backstage work, attended a major acting school in NYC.. He has offered to pay for Emma to attend that school's 2 year program and live in his apartment rent free (he's got a big rent-stabilized place with a back bedroom and separate entrance...it would be amazing for her). As long as Mr. Happy is in her life, she won't accept the offer.
What's a mother to do? (I know.... absolutely nothing. She's got to figure this one out herself.)
On the up side, the show was amazing, and we went backstage to get a close-up look at the props as we always do. We met a few of the guys in the cast (we were lucky enough to see all of the original cast members) and for some reason, John Stamos was back there chatting with some people. I love New York.