Talia at 5

Dearest Talia,

Half a decade! The BIG FIVE! The toddler is gone, and we welcome the young lady. 

I can't help but think of that night five years ago. In the wee small hours of the morning, Zaidy and I raced up to Newmarket to stay with Molly, because you were on the way. Quickly. It was the middle of the COVID pandemic, and the world was very different from what it is today. There was a lot of staying home, very little socializing, masking, and I must say, there weren't a whole lot of really fun things to do. Your arrival certainly brought sunshine and rainbows into an otherwise dismal time.

It's amazing how we all have COVID stories. Every person I know can recount and regale with some tale of that time. Some are tragic. Some are beautiful. Some are hysterical. When it's my turn to prattle on, I tend to remember that day in early August. I couldn't wait to "Bubby" you into submission; smother you with kisses and joyous tickles. I wanted desperately to bond with you immediately, the way I had with Molly. Alas, the pandemic had other plans. 

Being a COVID baby meant far more isolation. It meant initially you were shy, and everyone around you was more concerned about contagion. Care meant separation, and separation meant distance. That all changed just after your first birthday.

We decided that in the immediate aftermath of lockdowns, we would head to Disney World as a family. It was an awesome trip, even if you were a bit too young to fully enjoy the experience. There were rides, ice cream, tons of junk food, and Mickey. But for me, it meant finally spending some alone time with you. While others were riding Space Mountain, we giggled. While others went to spend money, we bonded. While others went hunting for characters, we shared contraband food that wasn't really on a one-year-old's meal plan. It was one of the best trips ever, despite Mickey infecting us all with COVID. Vaccinations are a modern miracle. Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise.

And now, Talia, you and I have a bond that can never be broken. I love who you are and who you are becoming. You are mischievous, a bit goofy, and you possess a hidden intelligence you refuse to put on display. You perform on your own terms. I love that strength. Some people go their whole lives without learning how to say no. You've kind of mastered it. You enjoy a myriad of activities, and while you are still figuring out what really floats your boat, you are willing to try new things. You spent a week at Camp George this summer, and you basically owned the place. You've dubbed yourself "Queen of Camp George" and have spent the ensuing weeks strutting around in a tiara. That takes a self-confidence most of us don't possess. Talia, live your life wearing that tiara with self-assurance and never care what anyone else thinks about it. 

You and I share something else. We are going through life as part of the vertically challenged. Did I ever tell you that I spent the first four years of my life at school being called "Little Dawn"? There was another Dawn in my class, so she was "Big Dawn," and I was "Little Dawn." How moronic is that? I still can't believe teachers allowed such garbage to fester. I know what it feels like to not be able to see the parade. I intuitively understood the devastation you felt when you couldn't reach into the rays' tank at the aquarium to pet them. We are short, and unfortunately the world can be unfriendly to us. But here's the thing. "Little Dawn" became the girl with the BIG voice. I have no doubt that your talent and intellect will shine. And someday, I promise, you will be able to pet those rays at the aquarium. (I still can't see the parade unless I push my way to the front. Keep pushing, Talia.)

Of all the things that I love about you, the one that I simply cannot figure out where it came from is your obsession with cats. You have always loved animals, even photographs of them, but you weren't all that thrilled when Mando came on the scene. A puppy wasn't really in your wheelhouse. He is now a loyal and true friend, but I get that he seemed big and boisterous to you a few years ago. Mom told me that you started loving cats because of a TV show, but we are well past that now. I know you would love to have a kitten, and Zaidy did consider it as a birthday gift this year, but Daddy threatened us with annihilation if we even dared. This feline craze is real. Everything has to have cats on it. Toys, blankets, face paint. If it isn't a cat, it isn't worth your time. Even your zodiac sign is Leo the Lion, the biggest kitty in the universe. Coincidence? I think not.

After giving it some thought, I have decided that you are very much like a cat. Cats are curious. They are always investigating, asking questions, and peeking into corners. Cats are independent. You always want to do things by yourself and without help. Cats are playful. You always turn the simplest game into an adventure. Cats are mischievous. Just like you, they are looking for just enough trouble to make people laugh. Cats are observant. You always see the details that many of us miss. Cats are loyal. You form deep bonds with the people you love. Cats seek out comfort. You love to snuggle with a cozy blanket, or cuddle up with me. Cats know what they want. You are never shy about letting everyone know what you want. Cats are remarkably wise. You are constantly surprising me with your insightful comments. Finally, cats take joy in being themselves. Talia, I honestly can't come up with a better description of you than that. 

I am decidedly not a cat person, but I am a Talia person, and I love the person Talia is becoming. I will love a cat if you do. I sort of promise. Until then, I will spend my time in adoration of you.

Happy 5th Birthday, my darling girl. May it be lovely, warm, fun, and feline. 

I love you to the constellation of Leo and beyond.

Love, 

Bubby

P.S. Here is a fun and short video of one of my favourite songs about cats. 

Why I Fear Cats the Movie

I am going to state a very unpopular Broadway opinion.

I didn't like Cats. 

There. I said it.

And as much as I really didn't enjoy it, The Husband absolutely HATED it. He was thoroughly bored. When it finally premiered here in Toronto thirty-five years ago, he was stuck in a slightly obstructed seat that caused him to miss the entirety of stage left. I don't think a better seat would have mattered, though. The abstract concept of bringing T.S. Eliot's marginal Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats to life in an Andrew Lloyd Webber musical was just a bit beyond his still developing twenty-something musical theatre mind. The poetry was ridiculous enough (and it is ridiculous. Everybody who thinks that they like this show should read it.) but putting it to music with ballet? Well, that was sufficient for him to declare, and still maintain, that it was one of his worst evenings ever in a theatre.

I didn't hate it. It really only has one great song and I was wholly impressed by it from a technical standpoint. The make-up, the sets, the movement, and oh that choreography. It was, and still remains, a musical that is fully dependent on an illusion created in a theatre. The distance the audience has from the performers allows for the makeup, costumes, and movement to do their work of conveying an assemblage of cats jumping and leaping all over the stage. When I saw the live television version that was recorded from London in the late eighties, I was disappointed at being able to see the brushstrokes on the performers' faces, the tails held on by chicken wire, and the cheesy looking catsuits. The illusion was lost.

There is a reason that it has taken almost forty years to make a film version of Cats. Cats is basically an abstract dance piece. The cats onstage are not meant to be taken literally. It is a collection of short stories about the names and personalities of a group of felines. There isn't really a storyline that ties them all together. The cats themselves are the story. The idea that a filmmaker could come up with a lucid concept to somehow recreate the magic of the stage on film has always seemed to be illusory. It reminds me of when War Horse was filmed. The amazing puppetry of the horse onstage was lost to the reality of an actual equine. The film was lacking the emotional heft of the stage play that was brought on by the illusion, tricks of the eye, and movement of the "horse" on stage.

And that brings me to the trailer of the upcoming movie version of Cats that was released yesterday. It is available for your viewing pleasure (?) at the bottom of this post. It is disturbing at best and horrific at worst. The felines look like bad Halloween costumes and the CGI of the sets is simply awful. The casting is truly suspect with Jason Derulo the only likely dancer in the group. I mean, c'mon. Taylor Swift mocks her dancing abilities in her own songs. Putting her into a choreographic masterpiece like Cats is like putting me in a swim race against Michael Phelps.

Hollywood has had a terrible time of it lately in adapting Broadway and that is a shame. Hairspray, Mamma Mia, and Les Miz have all suffered from overproduction and bad casting choices. I confess that I hold out very little hope for Cats but the crazy thing is, that I am such an addict of musicals that I will probably shell out the cash for a ticket. That doesn't mean that I should nor should they. Here's hoping they don't mess up In the Heights.

Watch and decide for yourself.