My mother was an actress. Not a famous one, but quite dramatic. She tells of being chosen for the lead in a parish play in her little village in Germany. She played a royal lady who had to kill someone with a gun. She told the director she couldn't shoot anyone, but he convinced her that she could. Because he believed in her, she did it and the audiences gave her a big ovation. This was her only time on the stage, but when she told the story, she became the actress with the gun all over again. In fact, every story she told was dramatized with bodily movement and facial expression. She probably could have been a great actress if she had had a chance. Instead she entertained her children with stories from her youth and life in Germany. One thing that added to my mother's acting were the braids she wore around her head. They made her look regal and attracted attention. Unfortunately, I did not inherit her dramatic flare. The one time I did have a role in a play I bungled my lines. My mother died at age 92, much diminished, but she still sang to her beloved parakeet. Now she is a drama queen in heaven, I'm sure.
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| Mom |
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