The Nutcracker

Since I was a little girl, my parents took me to Balanchine's Nutcracker ballet every holiday season. We'd mix it up with different productions from the extravagent Lincoln Center to the intimate Paper Mill Playhouse. Last year, we began the tradition with Sylvie. First we went to Lincoln Center (a colleague and friend who works at The New Yorker invited us, otherwise it would have been a bit too indulgent to take a 2 1/2 year old Sylvie). The following week we went to Bergen PAC. Sylvie loved it, albeit terrified of the Mouse King. At Lincoln Center, we had to watch the second half in the lobby because Sylvie turned into a human beat box and the paying folks in the adjacent seats gave us dirty looks. She slept with her nutcracker for weeks. We read the Nutcracker book over and over and over again. Sylvie watched Barbie Nutcracker endlessly, still screaming at the Mouse King.

This year, I stalked the Bergen PAC box office and before the ticket eblast was sent out, I bought a block of seats in the 4th row. I had Sylvie's dress picked out-- pink, purple and green plaid with a green sash-- super fancy and from Hannah Andersson. She's now buried in it.

As unconventional as it sounds, I felt compelled to go today because I know how much Sylvie would have enjoyed it and perhaps, she'd be there in spirit.

Coincidentally, a former co-worker of mine from the Sony days is the head of marketing at Bergen PAC. My friend Michelle reached out to Angela who was eager to help out in any way. Today's performance was dedicated to Sylvie and when they made the announcement before the program began, I shed the first of many tears from Row D. Samantha sat to my left, my mom to my right. Caroline and Michelle were also with us.

Samantha told me that Sylvie made the snow yesterday with her pink snowmaking machine. She was wearing the silver "Samantha" necklace that Sylvie gave her for her birthday. Then Samantha told me that she missed Sylvie. I told her, me too. Then she told me she wanted wings so they could fly together. During intermission, Angela and the head of the ballet presented me with an autographed poster from today's show. More tears. Towards the end, Samantha told me Sylvie was there and brought a telescope so she could see very close up. More tears. I wanted to see her, too. Catherine told me that Samantha has conversations with Sylvie. That makes me happy.

The girls first met when Sylvie was 16 months old and Samantha was 2 1/2. Samantha decided that Sylvie was going to be her best friend. And like that the girls were inseparable. Samantha forced Sylvie to wear her velour Jasmine nightgowns and Mardi Gras beads. Sylvie tortured her and stole her books. Sylvie obsessively wore Samantha's dresses. We had to hide the polka dot dress. They went to countless Laurie Berkner concerts (and backstage) together. Samantha sat in bed with Sylvie in the hospital while they colored pictures together and watched, what else, "Barbie Nutcracker." They were like sisters.

Today they would have gone beserk at The Nutcracker together, too. I looked around all over for signs of Sylvie (i.e. blinking light on Christmas tree. Errant snowflakes) although clearly there's a little bit of Sylvie in Samantha so I need not look that far.

Over in Brooklyn, Suzi Shelton dedicated her concert today in memory of Sylvie.

Tomorrow I am going to post our Eulogy to Sylvie. Several friends who could not attend her funeral have asked about it.