Nutcracka

Last year I decided to pull James into one of my family's traditions, since I wasn't able to join them for it in Cincinnati. We were going to see the Nutcracker ballet. Ever since I can remember my mom and granny and I would head downtown in our nice dresses and coats, take a little horse drawn carriage ride, watch the ice skaters on fountain square, and see the train sets through the big windows before going to Cincinnati's Music Hall.

Music Hall is easily one of my favorite places in all of Cincinnati. It has more charm and sophistication than any other building I have ever been in. The lobby would always smell like chocolate and pecans and was packed with other families dressed in their best. If you looked up you would see a great chandelier suspended overhead, twinkling with warm light. Once you crowded in, you could get yourself some hot cocoa to sip until the show began. Music would play and everyone would head to their seats. Inside the theater the seats were plush and velvety, soft and warm. The balconies were thick and ornate. The theater inside, although it is almost always dark the entire time you are there, spared no expense when it came to impressions.

Soon enough the show would begin and I would wait for my favorite part, when Marie begins dreaming and the tree on stage grows and grows and grows. It seemed to swell up and take over the entire height of the building, the ornaments doubling, tripling, hundreding in size by the time it reached its full height. Then came the music and the dancing. It was always one of my fondest memories, and rooted in this deep tradition that declared we must repeat it every year.

Well, this one year in particular I was unable to make it back to Cinci for the showing and decided to bring James along in Louisville instead. We went to the Center for the performing arts, and although still large and impressive, it is much more modern than I was acquainted with. We were running a little late and barely made it to our seats before the lights dimmed and the show began. The music swelled up and filled the hall, the orchestra below was busily building suspense. The dancers whirled and swung and twirled and jumped. Presents were tossed across the stage, the lights glowed dimmer, and soon Marie was falling asleep on the fainting couch in the grand hall. Drosselmeyer was being his scary ominous self.

At the intermission James stood up and gathered his coat. "This is the end?! They haven't even said anything yet!"

So I spent the first half of the intermission explaining that in a ballet, nobody talks. The music and dancing is supposed to explain what is happening... and then I spent the second half of the intermission explaining the storyline of the Nutcracker. I don't know if this is a tradition we will stick to in Louisville.