A WING AND A PRAYER

Seventy-five years ago, long before the term “politically incorrect” arrived, my hometown school district presented its first annual Christmas Pageant. I don’t know if it’s still a big deal, but it sure was when I was growing up.

The pageant consists of musical numbers and various scenes depicting the Christmas story. From first grade through seniors, all kids are invited to participate and most do. By the time one graduates, having been a pageant veteran for 12 years, every word sung and spoken is practically imprinted on the brain. I’d be willing to bet that my pal Rat, the best King Herod ever, can still recite every word of his dramatic monologue. “I am king! I am THE king! No little child of Bethlehem shall ever live to be a man!….” He’d madly draw his sword and put chills down my spine.

Now, I never had the confidence to try out for a speaking part in the pageant. I just sang or played in the band…except for the year I was chosen to be an angel. Oh, my god! You would have thought the earth had stood still the day I was notified. I was shaking in my shoes. I’d wanted to be an angel since first grade, and my angel-eligible days were about to come to an end in 1963.

Finally, that 9th grade year, I was among the select few. And not only would I get to be any ol’ angel, I was designated one of two Gabriel sidekicks…a horn-holding angel!! In the heaven scene, the horny angels rose from the clouds pretending to be blowing trumpets, while the not-as-significant, younger angels just prayed, and a soloist sang “Beautiful Savior,” which is a beautiful song. This was always the most inspirational scene that drew the “Oooohs” and “Aaaahs” from the crowd. And I was in it! Wings attached and halo shimmering. I was also in the grand finale, the manger scene, hornless and standing among a gang of angels while “Silent Night” was sung. After that night, high school pretty much went downhill for me.

A number of years back, the ACLU tried to stop the pageant after some humbuggish sourpuss complained that it violated the laws of church and state. The other 99.9 percent of the town revolted. Letters to the editor were written. How dare anyone try to shut down the Christmas story! To get around the technicalities, some local civic club came forward to “sponsor” the pageant by renting the school gym for something like a dollar, I think. There would be no silencing pageant night in Fredonia. The ACLU backed off. Tradition lives on.

So, here’s to 75 more years of Christmas pageants…of meaningful music, a timeless story, scrubbed-up kids, and giggly girls being angels for once in their lives. In my case, 45 years ago, some Divine intervention must have been at work.