When i was a little girl, about seven or so, i had this little fantasy that Bernadette Peters was my birth mother (it could happen). I don't remember what movies i saw her in but i do remember watching her on the Carol Burnett Show (which i loved, by the by) in various sketches (i vaguely remember an Exorcist one) and i just thought she was so adorable with that little baby voice, her tinyness, and most of all THOSE CURLS (somehow i remember them as being blonde at that time~but maybe that's just because My Curls were blonde at the time) she just had to be my biomom. I would watch her, and have my little fantasy (and they were fantasies~i wasn't Entirely delusional at seven); i would tell my mom "Bernadette Peters could be my birth mother."
"I doubt it very much." she would unhelpfully reply.
"But it's possible..." i would plead, doing my seven-year-old calculations.
"Very unlikely." Mom was quite uncooperative. But i would cajole and beg her to go along with the little story until she would finally admit to the slight possibility just to shut me up.
So when a friend asked if i knew anyone who liked Bernadette Peters because he just happened to have an extra ticket to her concert you know i had to jump on that chance.
"Oh, me, me, me," i practically gushed, "I Love Bernadette Peters!" (of course i would have to, and i relayed to him the tales of my childhood (or at least the ones of The Carol Burnett Show and my mother.)
So the other night i joined "the clan of the curly redhead" (as if i wasn't already a member) and saw Ms. Wonderful in concert (from the fifth row, no less). And she was. Wonderful. Stupendous. Awe inspiring. And, while i was watching this 59-year-old, 5'3" (my height exactly) woman, with the hourglass figure (my genetic blessing~though Ms. Bernadette obviously puts much more effort into keeping hers fit than i do), and the tumbling red ringlets, sashay about the stage with
i'd like to think so...