So, I have some exciting news to share.  I am going to take one of my essays from the page to the stage.  I will tell my story without a computer, live and in front of people, in San Francisco. The event is called Listen To Your Mother where a dozen lucky writers in 32 cities across the nation get five minutes to share a take on motherhood—an endless, loaded topic. It’s not every day a writer goes live, reading their work to a ticket-paying audience in the name of charity. Us writers are happy to read aloud to anyone—for free.  Give us a stage and mic and we feel like Ellen Degeneres for a night.

I’ve had my eye on Listen To Your Mother (LTYM) for almost a year.  A friend of a friend was cast in last year’s performance.  “Check it out,” they told me.  When I read all about it, I knew I wanted to go.  Maybe I could try out next year?  The 2013 show was scheduled on Mother’s Day.  I usually hike with my family on Mt. Tam but a recent knee surgery put the kibosh on our 10-year tradition. My two teenage boys and my husband could take me to the show—a present to me and no shopping–a real win-win.

Come Mother’s Day, I thought maybe I was asking too much of my boys to sit for two hours listening to mom stories.  As much as I want to raise cultured gentleman, this was a stretch, like real men don’t eat quiche.  I promised we could slip out if it all went south.  It didn’t.  On the contrary, we laughed so much time flew.  At the end, my thirteen-year-old exclaimed, “That was GREAT!  We need to make this a tradition.”

In January I worked on my essay.  I blog about mom stuff all the time, surely I have something I can clean up for the show.  I found the perfect candidate to polish and trim like Dorothy getting ready for The Great Oz.  I sent it in and two weeks later got the happy email: An audition!  I will read my essay aloud to two willing listeners—the producers.  I jumped up and down and up and down.

My corner view before the audition.

I drove from my suburban home to the city of San Francisco on a Saturday morning.  The Golden Gate Bridge and the sailboats on the bay looked so pretty with the rising sun brightening the day. “Wow!  How cool is it to try out for something so significant in such a big, beautiful city?”

The audition spot.

My audition took place at Fort Mason, an old army base on the water transformed into shops and meeting space.  What an amazing setting!  The water, boats, bridge and soft breeze were so calming. I had thirty minutes to kill since traffic was light.

As I walked around enjoying the scenery, I noticed another writer standing in front of a small building; I know just where to go now.  She stared at papers in her hand, studying her essay while she waited.  She looked super cute in her denim skirt and cowboy boots.  She wants this badly too. I was beginning to feel like an American Idol contestant.  Thankfully I’m not singing acapella or facing Simon Cowell.

Ten very long minutes before my audition, I waited close to the door with the list of audition names.  I checked for mine in case I misread the online sign-ups and came on the wrong day or worse, wasn’t signed up at all.  (I frequently miss the “submit” button for sports team potlucks and end up with the big food items nobody wants like lasagna.) I took pictures of the bridge, from the corner of the building, out of sight.  I didn’t want the producers to see me and think I was a crazed contestant or some suburban hick.

At last, the door swings open and I meet the producers Kirsten and Kim.  Everyone is polite and friendly.  I was invited to sit or stand for my reading.  It was pretty clear sitting in a circle was the preferred choice as three chairs were clustered together and the podium was far away against the wall.  I couldn’t resist mentioning the American Idol effect.  They said they are much nicer.  “J.Lo is pretty nice,” I offered.  And they were like J.Lo, very welcoming.

And suddenly it was over.  I didn’t get much response as I read.  I write funny pieces so this worried me a lot!   Maybe I’m not funny?  (I learned later from my 2013 LTYM friend, the poker-face effect is normal–an audition standard.)  I was given a goody bag with yummy chocolates, a thank-you for coming.  Wow, these girls think of everything. I couldn’t be upset if I didn’t make it, as they were so darn nice and genuinely appreciative of the effort.

The old blogging machine.

Eleven days later I got another happy email.  I ran to my husband, who was working from home and on a customer call.  I held up my iphone for him to read the message.  I jumped up and down and up and down, cheering from the inside.  He gave me the thumbs up and a big grin.  Immediately I called my writer friend, Alicia; she was my cheerleader at every step.  She picked up her cell as she boarded a plane for Australia, like she was expecting my call.  You have to love a friend who believes in you more than you do yourself.

As the news sank in I started thinking.  Hey!  It’s my mom’s birthday today; she would be 84.  Surely this good fortune is a gift from my mom or a gentle reminder of where this all started.  She used to write to her six siblings about her seven kids using her manual typewriter, carbon paper, stamps and envelopes—an old-fashioned blog.

I am so honored to be in the San Francisco cast of Listen to Your Mother.  I am equally honored on behalf of my own mother who inspired me to write with wit and humor.