I know you have been dying to know how the Emerald City Cloggers did in the Figgy Pudding Caroling Contest in downtown Seattle.  December 5^th finally came – our big debut.  Tracy and Gina, task masters that they are, suggested we practice for a couple of hours on both the 3^rd and 4^th, to work on timing and be sure we had the steps down.  Sounds good in theory, yes?

     Well, maybe if you’re twenty-five it’s a great idea to practice your feet off before a “recital.”  But I am not twenty-five and I woke up on Friday the 5^th unable to move.  My little room in Seattle, where I stay during the week, has a futon bed about five inches high and I couldn’t even swing my feet over the side to reach the floor.  You wouldn’t think that a few steps and stomps would cripple a girl so completely but I’m here to tell you OUCH!

     I tried to fall back asleep, but even lying flat made my feet hurt, so I crawled out of bed and took some Advil.  I think I took about fifteen of them. My reasoning was, “what’s a little gastric bleeding if you can get your joints to move again?”  The show must go on.

     I dressed in my black and white elfin getup and Anne picked me up about five o’clock for the show.  We drove to Westlake Center and joined the group in front of Nordstrom’s, on the corner of 5^th and Pine.  I wasn’t prepared for the size of the crowd, or their obliviousness as they one after another walked all over our “stage” that Gina was desperately trying to construct in time for the show.  She brought four sheets of plywood and a toolbox that would have done Tim the Toolman Taylor proud.  Hammer, drill, duct tape, metal edging for the boards.  The woman is amazing. 

     So we stationed ourselves at all four corners to divert foot traffic while Gina and her husband put the boards together.  While we waited, I noticed that the ringers for the Salvation Army put their collection cauldron right next to “our” corner.  Hmmm.  What is the etiquette for saying “amscray” to the Salvation Army at Christmas?  But if they stayed, there would be competition with their bells.  What to do? 

     But not to worry, when we did the sound check with Gina’s Ipod and speakers, they saw the writing on the wall, and went to stand next to some lovely choral group until we dancers were done.

     Okay, stage in place. Check.  Costumes complete. Check.  Canes, hats, scarves.  Check.  Gina draped us each with a set of Christmas lights and at 6:15 we were ON!  Once through Here Comes Santa Clause, Frosty, and Sleigh Ride.  Hat and cane changes between each song.  Then again. Then once more.  The same three songs over and over.  Passing the collection box after each song while we changed hats, etc.  After three times through I was seriously winded.  “What time is it, Tracy?” I whispered. 

     He looked at his watch, “6:20.”  He was sweating like a race horse post Kentucky Derby.  My Advil was wearing off.  He had to be freaking kidding me.  We were on, as were all the Figgy Pudding groups, until 7:15.  Nonstop entertainment for an hour.  Fifty-five agonizing minutes to go.  I learned that Figgy Pudding minutes were like purgatory minutes, as the nuns had described for us so many years ago.  “Every minute seems like a million minutes, every hour like a million hours…”  Fifty-five million minutes to go.

     See for yourself.  I am the second one from the right as you face the cloggers.  You can’t miss me – the older woman with bad posture about a beat and a half behind the rest of the group.  During Here Comes Santa Claus, Jim, at the far end, lost his cane and I turned the wrong way during the instrumental bridge. The audience kindly pretended not to notice. As you can see in  Frosty, I had hat issues right from the beginning;  and of course Sleigh Ride, from which I’d been excused (See “Here Comes Santa Clog – Part 1”) was a very big hit.  That last number was so horsey it was all I could do not to nicker or whinny at the end each time. 

     All the little girls in the audience were in love with Kristin, second from the left.  How could they not be?  She had on a skirt, was blonde, had bouncy steps and wore WHITE shoes.  You could see visions of sugar clogs dancing in their little eyes as they sang along and watched her.  Kristin never stopped smiling and prancing – an inspiration to the little future cloggers who kept time as they held their parents’ hands and bobbed to the music.

     I must admit, seeing us on YouTube was quite a little reality check.  Not that I had any illusions about my performing abilities, but I have to say that all the time we were practicing I thought THEY were all rushing the steps.  (How like me to think it’s everyone else’s “out of step”ness.)  There’s nothing like a little dose of videotape to expose me for the laggard that I obviously am. Sigh.

     And don’t fail to notice our three wonderful, brave volunteer carolers who gamely sang along with Gina’s ipod to make us legitimate “caroling” contestants.  They were such sports to sing the songs so many times through.  Really, talk about knowing who your friends are – I owe them big time.  As soon as they get their voices back I’ll ask them whether they are interested in a repeat next year.  Hmm.  Or maybe I’ll wait until summer when the memory has faded.

     There were some astounding choral groups there and we knew there was next to no chance that we would win anything.  But we kept our clogs on nevertheless, just in case we were called up to the main stage for a little encore.  You never know, they might be awarding a “bravest act” ribbon, or a “nice shot for your first try” award.  We listened to the loud speaker as Gina dismantled the stage and gathered up the hats and canes.  Then we heard it. “First Place goes to [pregnant pause] The Emerald.  City...” We looked at each other, “… VOICES!”  Oh.  Heh, heh.  Of course. 

     Then, finally, “and for the ‘People’s Choice’ award, please put your hands together for the Emerald.  City...” We held our collective breath. “VOICES!”  Okay, well, a good night for the Emerald City Voices.  I’m sure they deserved it.  And the Emerald City Cloggers?  Well, we hugged each other and went off into the night to find some dinner and comfortable shoes.

     As I was limping away from our corner, joining Anne at the sidelines, a woman, seeing my costume, came rushing up.  She was bundled for the weather, and took her hand out of her coat pocket to put it on my shoulder.  “Thank you,” her smile seemed genuinely grateful.  Looking me in the eyes, she added, “Thank you so much for a moment of pure joy.  Pure joy!” She squeezed my arm, smiled encouragingly, and then hurried away.

     Yes, pure joy.  That’s exactly what it was, all told.  Pure joy.