Mamma Mia

A couple of weeks ago, I had the treat of attending the Broadway Across Canada production of Mamma Mia! as it came through our city. My daughter treated me to the tickets—my "Mother's Day" gift, even though she had made the decision to spoil me long before that. It was simply one of those events that could not be missed.

I had taken my daughter to see the musical many years ago when it first came to Edmonton back in 2007, when she was just fourteen years old. You see, my husband and I have always had an eclectic taste in music. Growing up, my kids were exposed to every genre and decade imaginable. ABBA Gold was a CD that often hit the stereo during their upbringing; it was a known crowd-pleaser and common ground for me and my teenage daughter. There is a special kind of magic in sharing the soundtrack of your own youth with your children, watching them find the same pure joy in it that you did.

You can imagine how excited my daughter and I were about getting to see a musical created entirely around ABBA's music! That night in 2007 is still a moment that I can recall vividly. A year after we went to see the musical, the popular film adaptation of Mamma Mia! was released. When the sequel, Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again, came out in 2018, a very dear friend of mine rescued me from my husband's hospital room for a much needed night at the movies to see it.

And now, it was time to take three generations to the latest Broadway Across Canada production.

Anticipating the show took me right back to where my love for the band first began. The single "Knowing Me, Knowing You" came out in February of 1977, and it was my very first taste of ABBA. I was eleven years old and had a fold-up, briefcase-style record player, as was popular at the time. Its permanent home was on the floor of my closet, where I had just enough room under my hanging clothes to sit curled up on the pink shag rug, my head resting right next to the speaker. I had excitedly bought the 45, and I still remember playing it over and over again in my dark little hideaway.

my record player looked just like this one!

My granddaughter is now almost ten years old, but she has been a fan of ABBA for many years already and can sing all of the songs. Early on, I think much of her experience came from singing in the car with her mom on their way to daycare. But once she was old enough to watch the movie, well, that became her FAVOURITE show. I think she has watched it hundreds of times and is quite the expert on the film. When we go anywhere in my car, she becomes my DJ, and I guarantee you at least one or two ABBA songs will be played. Sometimes the whole journey becomes an ABBA karaokefest!

It was about a month ago, while singing SOS on our way to our weekly swim date, that I tried to explain to her just how amazing it was for me to share this music with her. I told her about my eleven-year-old self, curled up on that pink shag rug in my closet, and how that little girl would never have believed that one day she’d be a sixty-year-old grandma singing those exact same songs in the car with her granddaughter. It’s hard to fully put the magic of life into words—how deeply I feel that connection, first with her mother, and now with her. How wonderful life is!

I was on cloud nine when I walked into that theatre with my beautiful daughter and granddaughter. My granddaughter had previously asked if it would be different people in the show compared to the movie, and I realized this was her very first time seeing a live theatre performance.

When the curtain went up, I turned to look at the excitement and joy on my granddaughter's face, and then I saw the expression on my daughter's face, as she shared this special moment with her daughter. It was incredible. Throughout the whole performance—which was excellent, by the way—I couldn't decide whether to watch the stage or watch the faces of my two precious girls. At intermission, my granddaughter pointed out slight differences and nuances between the stage show and the film. I knew that girl paid attention!

At the end of the show, the entire audience sang along to the encore, and the positive energy and excitement in the theatre was palpable. We all sang along to every word of Mamma Mia, Dancing Queen, and Waterloo. I didn't want the night to end!

Photo by Joan Marcus /Broadway Across Canada

In June of 2027, our local dinner theatre will be hosting ONE NIGHT WITH ABBA, a tribute show. Hmmm... we may just have to get tickets!

On Sundays, We Dance

On Sundays, we dance.

When it came to a point in our lives where some of our children did not live with us anymore, my husband and I started the tradition of hosting Sunday dinner. During my own childhood our extended family would get together at the home of my grandparents.  On Sundays, I would see my grandparents, and all of my aunts, uncles, and cousins.  This was a time to enjoy my Grandmother’s wonderful cooking, including some of the traditional Romanian fare – oh those dumplings and cabbage rolls! But it was also a time when I experienced a special connection with my extended family. The first time I had a sip of coffee, was at that grown up table! I also learned how to pour tea for everyone. My grandmother's first, because she liked it the weakest, my dad's at the end because his needed to be stronger. If my great aunts and uncles came to visit from the country, or from another city, there was always room at that table, or for us kids, who often lined up along the wall on the floor for our meal. Laughter, gossip and after dinner games of crib for those who were brave enough to play - that is what I remember. One time I was excited to have made a cake for dessert to contribute to the meal, but I made it in my easy-bake oven, and it was so small that there was only enough for my grandparents.  My Grandpa said it was delicious! That was more than 45 years ago now, and I remember it vividly. It was chocolate.

 My husband comes from a very close-knit family.  I think of it as being small compared to mine. Their Sunday dinners were at a smaller table, and more intimate. Most of my husband's extended family lived across the country, so his experience as a child was very different from mine. Those big gatherings only happened rarely when family flew in to visit. I think that the feeling of connection during those occasions was the same as I experienced as a child, but for him, those times were fewer.

Back to now. No matter how crazy a week it has been, we know that Sunday is coming and we will be together with all of our kids again.  My widowed mother is also a steady guest, as often is my niece. My husband is an AMAZING cook (I am truly blessed), and everyone goes home with a full belly, and leftovers.

My eldest granddaughter (who is three) calls Sunday her “Happy Day”. She says it is her happy day for many reasons, one of which is that she gets to see her great-grandmother, and all her aunts and uncles. She also gets to see her new baby cousin, my youngest granddaughter, who, at the time that I am writing this, is just three weeks old. Our big girl is a little uncertain right now, as she was waiting for the new baby to arrive so that they could sing “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star”, watch Disney movies together and share play dough. For her, this little bundle of joy that sleeps in our arms all the time isn’t really what she had expected.

But the biggest reason our little granddaughter calls it Happy Day is because, on Sundays, we dance.

After my kids clear the dining room table, and wash the dishes (did I mention I am truly blessed?) the music starts to play, and there is a kitchen dance party. The music will range from New Wave to Country, to Classical fare, but it will all be loud, and there will be LOTS of dancing. The little girl dances with her Grandparents, her Aunties, her Uncles.  Last weekend, while we were enjoying the new baby, and perhaps lingering too long over the last of a wonderful dinner, when my granddaughter came and whispered in her Uncle’s ear…”will you come dance with me?” And that little girl was reassured that even if her Uncle was a new daddy himself, with lots of new responsibilities and distractions, there was always time for a little Spirit of the West, and a Celtic reel with his niece.

And then the dance floor was filled. And when my adult kids dance and laugh together, it reminds me of when they were small and people would tell me how rare it was that siblings could be as close as my kids were. And that it was a surprise to see them get along so well together. That three children was going to be trouble, because there would always be two against one, and that one would always be left out. But no, they all dance together, and laugh, and hug and smile, and my heart is full, and my feet are tired. 

These three amazing adults are as connected now as much as they were as children. And now their children, will learn that feeling of family connection.

So on Sundays, on Happy Days, we dance.