Mom took us to children’s theater. Pirates and princesses flash briefly in my mind’s eye, but Annie is the first clear moving picture, like seeing a cornflower blue spring sky through a freshly cleaned window.

I sat in the balcony looking down on a ragamuffin girl about my age singing and dancing with her friends. She told a story of never giving up, a simple idea that’s not always easy to put into practice. Annie lived through the depression, being an orphan, losing her parents. She even lost her dog, Sandy — the stray she found on the street and kept as her own.

My little heart grew a million times for this little girl I didn’t know. And I especially felt sorry that she’d lost her furry friend. Then, towards the end of the show during the Christmas scene at Daddy Warbucks’ house, a HUGE box with a big red bow was wheeled onto the stage. From my perch up high, I saw Sandy’s light brown fur as they lifted the lid before the dog hit his cue and popped out of the box. Tears welled in my eyes, and I haven’t been the same since.

*dabs eyes with tissue*

There’s nothing like a live performance, a lesson I learned at the age of 6. As for the positivity of being on the bright side and knowing that the sun will come out tomorrow, well, I think I was born with that.  In Annie, I just found my soul sister.

From the 1977 Tony Awards, with the original cast (before my time):

*Tomorrow is the first song (after a lil’ explanation), but this montage of songs features the best of the bunch, except the Herbert Hoover song, which I always loved.

This post is part of the Blogging A to Z Challenge. My theme is Musical Memoir. Each Monday through Saturday (and Sunday, April 1), I explore personal memories through my love of music, inspired and coordinated by the letters of the alphabet. Join in the fun and participate in the challenge. Or leave a comment and enjoy some conversation. Thanks for reading. Peace.