You Are Only Young Once

One of the truly great experiences in being a grandfather is getting to attend those performances that captivate grandchildren during their earliest years.

My granddaughter is four this year and for the last two years I have gone to Sesame Street Live and Disney on Ice.

The first one we went to was Sesame Street Live, which was performed at the Landmark Theatre.

I have a special affection for the Landmark because I remember when it was Loews movie theatre, when I was growing up.

In fact, it was one of five movie theatres in downtown Syracuse along with the Paramount, RKO Keith’s, the Eckel and the Cinema.

Every week, my friends and I would take the bus downtown to go to a movie. It really didn’t matter what the movie was or whether it was any good. We had other ways to amuse ourselves.

About a half hour before the movie was to start, we would stop into the pet section of W.T. Grant’s Department Store, which was located in the 400 block of South Salina Street and but a bunch of miniature turtles.

If the movie was boring or we were bored, we would go up in the balcony and drop them on the people sitting below and wait for the reaction. The reaction could, sometimes be pretty loud and dramatic.

On a few occasions, Grant’s was out of miniature turtles and we had to buy chameleons, a small lizard that changes colors. Sort of like some politicians.

Trust me, when I tell you that dropping a small lizard on someone in a darkened movie theatre produces a louder more dramatic reaction.

When I ran for mayor of Syracuse in 1993, we had a fundraiser in the Landmark and I promised my supporters that if won the race, we’d have a celebration in the Landmark and they could drop lizards on people.

My daughter, Kate, who was seven at the time asked me, “Why were you dropping lizards on people?” “Because they were out of turtles that day,” I replied.

But I digress.

There is something magical about watching little ones, who have seen the Sesame Street or Disney characters on television suddenly see them live on stage. The Sesame Street characters would come down off the stage into the aisles and dance with the little ones to their delight.

My daughter, Meghan, bought Claire a helium balloon and tied it to her wrist. For the rest of the performance I held my breath, hoping that the balloon wouldn’t come loose and fly away, breaking Claire’s heart. It didn’t and the afternoon was a delightful one.

We’ve gone to Disney on Ice twice and are scheduled to go again on Saturday.

Last year, Meghan had a college roommate, her husband and little boy, Jack, go with us.

They had a number of toys that spin and gave off colors in the dark.

Claire, who is a big fan of Minnie Mouse, sat on the edge of her seat through the whole performance.

Midway through it, I heard her ask Meghan, “Can I have a snow cone?” “You don’t need a snow cone,” her mother replied. “Please can I have a snow cone?” she begged. No, you’ve already had popcorn.” “But I want a snow cone.”

I, being a complete sucker for anything she wants, leaned over and said to Meghan, “Get her a snow cone.” Meghan said, “I can’t get her a snow cone because Jack will want one too.” “I replied,” So, get Jack a snow cone and I’ll pay for that one too.”

The snow cone had a plastic holder that was a Disney character and couldn’t have cost any more than nine cents to make.

Meghan held up her hand when the snow cone guy came by and handed her two snow cones.

“How much do I owe you?” I asked the snow cone vendor. “Twenty-four dollars,” he replied.

Now I know what the term captive audience really means.

When the show was over both kids left with the empty snow cone holders.

I’m hoping that they’ll leave them to someone in their Last Will and Testaments someday.

We went out for pizza after the show. The waitress in the restaurant overheard us talking about “Disney on Ice” and volunteered that she was taking her little boy to see it the next day.

“Stay away from the snow cones,” I advised her.

This year, Meghan and Claire went to see the show again. Terri and I weren’t able to make it.

“Buy her a snow cone,” I told Meghan, “and I’ll pay you back.”

Last night Meghan texted me a photo of a very satisfied four-year old happily eating a snow cone.

I’m pleased to report the price didn’t go up.

It didn’t go down either.