Nov 20, 2014 3 min read

My junior year in college, I got the idea I might want to be a television journalist. Back then, with many fewer TV stations in play and with women not nearly as prominent as they are now, it seemed like a pipe dream. But I put the question to my grandmother.

“Do you think I am going to make it?” I asked.

She looked straight at me and said, “Yes, I do.”

That moment of confidence and affirmation was like one spark plug being lit. There were other ignitions, of course: encouragement from parents and teachers, acceptance to a good graduate school, internships where I wasn’t marginalized into fetching coffee.

But those words from my grandmother stood out. Sometimes it just takes a little thing to inspire.

When my daughter was in grade school and middle school, she was into musical theater. For a span of about seven years, she danced in tutus and sang in the chorus and donned monkey ears for an array of ballets and plays and musicals. She never made it to a lead role, but she loved singing and being on stage.

And then, around age 12, she quit. As happens when kids move through adolescence, she had other interests, was feeling too shy to face an audience.

“It’s too bad,” I told her. “You seemed to like it. And you really sing in tune.”

Now, at 15, she’s thinking about getting back on stage. This new spark was lit, partly, by a trip to Toronto last month.

The granddaughter of a dear friend has been with the Broadway tour of “Wicked” for a few years, mostly in the ensemble. But she was going to be in the lead role of Glinda the Good Witch, and we all went to Canada to see it.

Lindsay Brett Carothers, a Westmoreland County native, was spectacular as Glinda: a beautiful voice and a real talent for physical comedy. My Grace was enthralled. While the rest of us were proud and impressed almost beyond words, Grace took the performance more personally. If Lindsay could do it, so could she. Grace said as much as we left the theater that night.

“You mean she was just a girl back at home?” she asked.

I explained Lindsay hadn’t done musical theater until she was a junior in high school.

“And you have a head start,” I said. I followed with all the motherly words about working hard, and practice.

As we drove across the border the next day, Grace told me she might try out for the school musical. She missed being on stage, and seeing someone she knew up there on the big stage had shown her the possibility of it.

Then we talked about all the shows she’d done: “Jungle Book,” “Seussical,” “Guys and Dolls” and, our favorite, “Beauty and the Beast.”

“In which you played a spoon,” I said.

“Wrong, Mom. I was a cupcake.”

Oh, right. She was the pink cupcake in the “Be Our Guest” number. Now I can picture it.

“You were great,” I said. “You can do it again.”

She didn’t say anything, but I think something sparked.

Beth Dolinar can be reached at cootiej@aol.com.