Compiled by Forrest Preece
By Renée Gallagher, Investment Consultant
I am the kind of person who is always prepared. I keep a list and check it twice. Nothing delights me more than having a plan, especially for a dance performance. So when, a few years ago, I decided to take my 85-year-old aunt to her very first ballet, Ballet Austin’s The Nutcracker, I was very prepared to fully guide her through her first Nutcracker experience.
I knew the score. I knew which dancers were cast as the Snow Queen and King. I could hum my way through “Waltz of the Flowers.” I knew which dances would draw the most applause. I had parking, seating, and intermission timing down. I was, if nothing else, a prepared spectator.
My aunt, on the other hand, arrived with a handbag full of peppermints (noisy wrappers – a big no-no) and zero expectations. She had never been to a ballet, never been to the Long Center, and had only a vague idea that the Nutcracker was anything beyond a toy or decoration.
From the moment the symphony began playing, she was enraptured. She gasped when Clara’s brother broke the Nutcracker. During the battle scene, she leaned in, whispering loudly, “Is that rat really fighting the toy soldier?” as if it weren’t choreography but a new drama series. She sighed during the Snow Queen and King’s pas de deux. It was marvelous!
I found myself watching her just as much as the stage. Her eyes widened at the set changes, and there was a smile on her face with each pas de deux. She clapped before anyone else in the audience, utterly swept up in the magic of the moment.
By the time the Sugar Plum Fairy made her entrance, I realized something: the real joy of the evening wasn’t knowing what came next—it was rediscovering surprise itself.
So this Christmas, I’m adding a new note to my list: Leave room for wonder.
