Stories from the Stringam Family Ranches of Southern Alberta

From the 50s and 60s to today . . .



Tuesday, December 11, 2018

Staging the Holiday

I’m sure it was a normal, every-year, run-of-the-mill holiday season.
Everywhere but at the Tolley home.
Maybe I should explain . . .
My Husby and I have six children.
Six.
Originally, we were going for a baseball team, but we ran out of steam somewhere around shortstop.
Sooo . . . six kids. Ages five to seventeen.
It was Christmas time and we had to do something with them.
What if we put them all on the stage? Had our own theatre company?
Well, it made sense to us.
Moving on . . .
For that one magical year, we had just that.
The Tolley Troubadours. Specializing in Dinner Theatre Who-done-its.
Our most famous play? The Demise of Santa Claus?
Okay, Broadway, we weren’t. But we sure had fun.
The players:
The Grinch. Our Seventeen-year-old. Self-proclaimed hater of Santa Claus and everything he stood for. And possessor of many and varied instruments of death and destruction whose sole purpose was the final end of the aforementioned and hapless Claus.
Scrooge. Our sixteen-year-old. Hater of everyone equally. And not above threatening anyone who interfered with him (i.e. tried to engage him in conversation. Or smiled/looked at him.)
Alfie the Elf. Our thirteen-year-old. Mobile-mouthed purveyor of all things ‘cookie’. Not averse to a little bribery when the mood took him.
Mrs. Claus. Our eleven-year-old. Heavily made up, padded and hunched over model of sweetness and light. Until someone questioned her honesty. Then watch the rolling pin come out.
Angel Sweetface. Our eight-year-old. Wealthy, angelic example of Life lived well. A little too well. Heaven forbid that anything should interfere with her rather skewed view of the world.
Elfie the Elf. Our five-year-old. Son of Alfie. And mute. Until moments of stress/surprise/revelation when he became remarkably conversant and effusive. Strange.
Inspector Clueso. My Husby. Bumbling, inept investigator of all things mysterious. Namely every person on the playbill.
Bambi. Me. Feather-brained mistress of ceremonies. Woefully type-cast.
And there it is. The lineup.
Before, during and after a good dinner, based on the clues gleaned from presented scenes, the guests had to figure out who ‘done it’.
Most guessed a Tolley.
Surprisingly, they were right.
Just not right enough.
It was hard to figure out who had the most fun.
The guests.
Or the players.
Yep. The best of Christmases.



P.S. Looking for some unique entertainment for your holiday celebrations?
Not too particular about quality and/or expertise?
I have someone I can recommend . . .

11 comments:

  1. Oh what fun.
    My anti-social self would have LOVED those dinners.

    ReplyDelete
  2. How sweet! I would've loved to have seen these productions. Such a fun family.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. We did have a lot of fun! Now I'm waiting for the next generation. We'll see what they come up with! ;)

      Delete
  3. Like EC and Laurie, I would have loved being in attendance!

    I was part of a theatre group in our village when I was growing up, and it was SO much fun. It was one of the highlights of my teen years. So many good memories! I can imagine how much enjoyment all of you - along with your audience - had!

    ReplyDelete
  4. As an only child, I could have wished for a few nights with your family! This brings back some memories of a visit I had to one of my uncles when I was 15. Three children - 10, 8 and 5. I don't think I stopped laughing the entire week I was there. It was so much fun.

    ReplyDelete
  5. What fabulous fun! Do you have the names mixed up on those photos or in the story?
    I was called Elfie for a while until the child concerned learned to pronounce his "s", then it was back to boring Elsie.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Huh. I never noticed that! I have mixed them up in my story! Good eyes, River! :)

      Delete
  6. We have six kids, too! There ARE so many players every year and kids switch roles!

    ReplyDelete

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