Thank You for the Music: How Mamma Mia! Helped me Re-discover my Mom.

Directing and choreographing a high school production of Mamma Mia!, as a 37-year-old, has made me enjoy the exhaustion of rehearsal and value the need to rest and reflect. To put my feet up after another multi-hour dance rehearsal. My cast, from the start, were ready to sing. To dance. To jive. To be part of a musical that exceeded their expectations. And I knew the responsibility I had. My cast, crew, and team were made well aware of our standards for this musical, and we were going to do everything we could to ensure our students had every chance to succeed. I knew the responsibility I had. I haven’t gone a day since February 1st, 2025 thinking about what I can do to ensure I meet the standards I set for my cast, my crew, my team, my audience, my colleagues, my school, my district, my friends, and my family. Included in that family are ones who weren't able to watch it. Like my mom.

When prepping for this show, I came across a wonderful Broadway cast interview that included the quote, “While Sophie tries to find her dad, she re-discovers her mom.” 

I have many core memories of my mom. Car rides with Country music playing. Mostly Shania Twain. Her teaching me how to country-line dance in our living room. I’d be there with my baseball bat mirroring Barry Bonds’s signature stance (I was a leftie till my parents literally slapped it out of me) and then my mom would be dressed in boots and jeans ready to go to the Saddlerack to dance with her girlfriends. But, before she'd leave, she always left enough time to teach me the latest dance. She’d count it out, she’d hold my hand, and we’d dance together in our living room. Baseball was on, but my bat was on the floor. I was dancing with my mom. Laughing, counting, tripping, laughing more. I still danced those dances even after she left while I was alone, with the baseball game still on and my bat still on the floor. 

It was so special getting to dance with my mom because I got to dance with my mom. My first “girl.” And she was so free, smooth, carefree, truly in her element when she line-danced. At my wedding, she was not so able-bodied. She chose to save her steps for the walk down the aisle. At the reception, I went to my mom for our small dance I had choreographed, I got her up, and we step-touched to the best of her ability. I turned her once, as I had choreographed. We moved to a close dance position so I could bear any weight for her since she was already in pain. She told me, quietly but confidently, “You can turn me again.” I stepped back, me still holding her hands, looking for assurance. I knew she meant it. She had saved her steps for this. She wanted to walk down that aisle, and she did. She wanted to turn one more time, so I turned her. The woman who taught me how to dance now let me lead her. She let me turn her one more time. 

Mamma Mia! is most certainly a bubble gum musical: great flavor with no nutrition. But to that I say BUNK. It’s a story about a mother’s tale, a father’s wish, and a daughter’s dream. In an all-too-unfair streak of Donna-led torch songs, “Slipping Through My Fingers” comes into the mix. This trek was my cast’s first long Saturday rehearsal. It ended with tears. Tears from our crew, me, our Donnas, our Sophies. We jokingly asked, through sniffles and choked guffaws, “Why are we crying on the first day of Mamma Mia! staging rehearsal?” Because we had found the heart. In this song, Sophie has the simple-but-profound line, “I’m so proud of you, Mom.” It could be a throwaway line in the hands of a lesser actress, but never have I ever acted in, or seen, or now staged a Sophie who didn’t know how to make that line land. 

I’ve been obsessed with making this musical live up to its expectations. No, I’m not going to lie. I’ve been obsessed with making this show exceed expectations. Yes, we have standards, but mine for me exceed those because that’s what my community deserves. I wanted to give my students my best. I wanted to earn putting my feet up at the end of a rehearsal. This is my job. This is their extra-curricular. But they committed to it like it’s their job. So, in their honor, in my school’s honor, in my family’s honor, I reflect on why I’ve cared far too much about making a bubble gum musical show its heart. 

This cast has gifted me with re-discovering my mom: the first girl I danced with. The Dynamos have great moments together, but in act two they’re on their own journey. I see my mom in each of them, and it’s a compliment, I swear. She was a fierce fixer, like Donna. She was, at times, a carefree resident of the setting, like Tanya. And like Rosie, she was an eccentric comedienne who didn’t need a man, but was happy to have a man if he was worthy.

This is all in response to a simple, poignant realization it took a group of teenagers to make a 37-year-old theatre teacher realize: I can’t remember the last time I told my mom I was proud of her. Simple but profound words that are so meaningful in any context. The reality was: I was proud of her. She was fierce. She was funny. She danced. She jived. And she was strong.

Mamma Mia! was a show I knew we were ready for. And I’m happy to report it did exceed expectations, but not because of me. It’s because I had students who committed. Who knew when to say When, and who knew when to say What Next? It’s because of a production team, faculty, colleagues, a community, a wife, and a family who are present, in their own ways, in showing their support of me leading this program.

But it’s all rooted in a mom who gave me music, who taught me how to dance. I can’t say it to her now, but it was in our show, "I’m so proud of you, mom." Thank you for the music. Thank you for dancing with me first.