Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

Remember at Thanksgiving when Mr. Pom and I went into the city to see Gypsy?  If you recall from the post, it was a very disappointing evening. Last night, Mr. Pom and I went back into the city to see Liza Minelli and as dismal and glum as our Gypsy experience was, our experience last night was as lovely and exciting as a night on Broadway can get.

The show was a New York experience that soon will be extinct.  A small, intimate theater, a limited engagement, one-woman act, with standards by Kander & Ebb and her iconic renditions of Cabaret and New York, New York. Liza is a little breathless between songs, her dancing a little tamer than when we saw her at Radio City years ago, but she has the energy and performance power that blows the roof off the theater and draws you onstage like you were watching your old friend perform.  Just seeing such a superstar in person and having her seem to chat unscripted with the audience and her 12-piece orchestra  between legendary songs had me sitting on the edge of my seat and I don't think I took my eyes off the stage for a second.

The audience could not sit down and she received a wave of standing ovations from the minute the curtain rose and she was silhouetted in her trademark pose of uplifted arm in her Halston costume.  She was vulnerable, talking about her mother's - momma's - death when Liza was only 22. She was whimsical, staging a nightclub act in tribute to her godmother, Kay Thompson,  the elegant singer and dancer, who also was the author of the infamous children's book, Eloise at The Plaza.  And despite her frequent self-deprecating humor about her exhaustion, she was indefatigable.

By the time she got to the finale of New York, New York, she was dripping with sweat and charmingly candid about her need to sit down. The audience could not get enough of her and when she returned for her encore, which was supposed to be, "I'll be Seeing You",  she sat down on the bench with her pianist, her band gone, and began to sing, "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas, "  the song her mother made famous when she sings it to a tiny Margaret O'Brien in the 1944 classic "Meet Me in St. Louis".   There was an audible gasp from the audience and not a dry eye in the house, certainly not my own.

We left the theater walking on air, tears still in my eyes, and came out to snow falling in Times Square. We felt like we were walking on our own movie set of a 1940's New York at Christmas black and white movie.

We walked arm in arm to the Christmas tree and joined the throng laughing and having their picture taken. We shared a kiss under the tree and I told Mr. Pom that it didn't matter what else we did for Christmas or what I received, that this night was the best Christmas present I'd ever received.

If I don't get back to you on this blog before Christmas day, I want to extend to you and your families the very best merry little Christmas and Hannukah and Kwanza and Solstice. Whatever and wherever you celebrate, may your days be filled with the simple joys of friends and family, a few baked goodies, the scent of cinnamon and numeg, and a candle or two.  Thank you all for keeping this blog read, for your comments, your messages of support and happines, but most of all your friendship and love. I return the same to you but I could never impress enough on your that you return it to me a thousand times over.