Minuet

St. Catherine’s Elementary School planned an “Entertainment.” Alex was in the Minuet.

“I don’t dance much,” Alex warned Bucher and me sheepishly. “I’m up on a shelf.”

We did not pretend to understand and decided privately that we could wait for The Night to find out what he meant.

I was appalled when Alex gave me a sketch of the costume he was to wear, but Concie politely took the instructions from my shaking hand and assured me she could make it if I would just get the materials for her. I had not realized that her accomplishments included costuming.

In a surprisingly short time, Concie produced a handsome costume of cerise satin frock coat over tightly fitted knee britches. The coat had rhinestone buttons, a full lace stock at the throat, and flounces of lace at the wrists under wide cuffs buttoned with “diamonds.” Alex wore long white stockings and black shoes with large and luminous pink buckles. The pièce de résistance was the remarkably authentic-looking white wig that Concie had made of cotton batting with three curls over each ear and a short queue in the back tied with black satin ribbon.

When the evening finally arrived, we dressed Alex carefully in elegant array, and drove to Holy Redeemer Parish Hall where The Entertainment was to be held. We followed other parents and small performers to a classroom where costumed children sat at desks with hands folded, quietly waiting for instructions. We had never dreamed of such order and discipline backstage. Shining eyes and bright smiles bespoke excitement, but training and the presence of a couple of watchful nuns cautioned restraint.

Bucher and I left our slightly overwhelmed son, removing his adoring sister with some difficulty, and found seats in the nearby auditorium.

The various acts were staged artistically. In the Minuet, three small raised platforms at different heights behind the main group of dancers held costumed couples who bowed and turned, making both a background and an accompaniment. Alex’s tall, slim figure carried his cerise costume well. His pretty little partner was gowned in mauve satin, each a pleasing foil for the other.

As for Bucher and me, nothing could have made us happier than having Alex “up on a shelf” where his proud family could see him perfectly above the solemn group doing a graceful Minuet stage front.

Alex performed creditably. He glanced over his shoulder during turns, as if not quite sure where he was going and whether his next step would be on wood or air. He yawned widely and unembarrassedly several times, due to either excitement or the late hour. However, he “made a leg” in his bows as elegantly as any of the boys.

For some reason the curtain was not drawn promptly when the dance ended. The dancers looked frantically at each other, none with enough stage presence to just stand and smile. Mister Alex in his bright pink, perched where no one in the audience could miss him, assumed an expression of the most devastatingly comical what-the-hell’s-the-matter-with-them sort, and signaled wildly with his arm, lace fluttering gaily as he gestured. The curtain rang down to cheers and laughter as Bucher and I hugged in hysterical collapse.