White Cliffs of Dover Memories

Another found memory.  I had completely forgotten that I had written a blog post about the first time I stood in front of a large audience. And that was not to talk - it was to sing a solo.

The day I started the First Grade my father left home for service in the US Air Corps in 1943.
I was fascinated by the troop convoys that rumbled down Seventh Street passing right in front of my house. When I heard those trucks approaching I ran into the house and came back wearing my over-seas cap that Daddy gave to me.

 When I was six years old a neighbor lady enjoyed hearing me sing my one song, Blue Birds Over the White Cliffs of Dover, the famous song of WWII. I loved that song. It was played frequently on the radio and I liked to sing along with it.

She asked my mother if she could take me downtown to audition for the Saturday morning young talent show which was broadcast on a local radio station.  Mama said yes and off we went.

The audition was in an office of a downtown tall building but the performance was held at the Visulite Theater.  I was over-joyed when they picked me.
Saturday morning when I walked up on the stage in front of a theater filled with people to sing, Blue Birds Over the White Cliffs of Dover, the 1941 hit song from Great Britain, I was scared to death.  My neighbor friend waved encouragingly from the front row beaming at her protege. I rose to the occasion and loved every second of it. 

 

Now, if anyone ever asks me, I will tell them that was my debut as a performer.

After that everytime I saw a picture of the White Cliffs of Dover 

I thought of the Visualite Theater and my first time on a stage.

In 1975 Jim put me on a train at Victoria Station in London. We had been in Great Britain for a delightful two weeks. Jim was returning home and I was going on to meet a friend in Paris. This was the part of the trip that was to be  my "seeing all the art" trip.

I was excited that I would also actually see the White Cliffs of Dover when I crossed the English Channel on the ferry from Dover to Calais.

It was a beautiful day with white clouds scudding across bright blue skies and a stiff wind stirring up white caps on a very choppy sea. 

We had barely lifted anchor and moved away from the dock when I felt my stomach begin to rise and fall with the waves. Would you believe it - I had no time to watch the gleaming White Cliffs slip away. Something else was taking all my attention. 

Very unglamourously I spent most of the trip sitting on a step outside the ladies room so that I would be close to a toilet in case I was over-come by mal-de-mer and began wretching.

Ah me. 

Not the way I had planned it - not at all.