When Mary was 10 years old, she auditioned for a professional production of South Pacific. One other youngster auditioning that afternoon was called to the stage and sang loudly; her voice reaching the back row of seats where we sat.
Then Mary was called. With shoulders squared, her shiny black hair streaming down her back, she smiled and sang in the empty theater:
“Dites-moi, pourquoi, La vie est belle, Dites-moi, pourquoi, La vie est gai. Dites-moi, pourquoi, Chere Mad’moiselle,
Est-ce que, Parceque, Vous m’aimez?”
(translation: Tell me why, please do, life is so pretty; tell me why, please do, life is so gay? Tell me why, won’t you, dear mademoiselle. Could it be? Would it be? You love me?)
Mary returned to her seat next to me. Before we left, Mary was told she had the role.
Decades later, as I pushed Mary’s wheelchair through the nursing home hallway, I tried to sing “dites-moi . . .” but the words escaped me. Mary helped. Softly, confidently, she sang the entire song. During most visits, Mary said little but that 59-year-old happy memory was still vivid to her. My chere mademoiselle.
Sister Yosh Golden
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Remembering 2024
This article appears in Remembering 2024.
