We’ve gone green

Our family is completely under the spell of the Wicked soundtrack at the moment. Every time we get in the car, the cries arise from the back seat: “Put on Wicked!” “Wicked, please!” “Put on the starting part!”

The kids have their favorite songs and lines, and I am amazed at how many of the lyrics they now know. Mercy was walking through the kitchen the other day and I heard her say under her breath: “Don’t make me laugh! They were pop-ley-er!” Aaron loves “Loathing” and asks for it by name. And yesterday I overheard Mercy playing with her new Cinderella doll dancing around and singing: “I am that girl…” Hilarious.

I used to think that my landscape-narration abilities and silly car games did a pretty good job of entertaining the young ones on long drives but I believe I have met my match. The kids will literally sit, at total attention, through the entire soundtrack. This could bode well for the long trek home next week.

The storyline of Wicked is filled with ironies and reversals, and the story drives home how stark the contrast can be between perception and truth. There is a line in the first or second song where the citizens of Oz are celebrating the death of the “Wicked” Witch (and not so subtly themselves) singing: “And goodness knows, we know what goodness is.” Anyone who has seen the show knows how patently untrue this is.

I read some things last week online about the moral failure of a religous leader and the ways certain people quickly moved to distance themselves from their previous alignments with this individual. I was struck by how those people who had publicly supported and affirmed this controversial individual pre-failure seemed to display some serious errors in judgment in that process, and yet now appear to show so very little charity to one who was their “superstar” for a season.

The musical, Wicked, is built on the themes of goodness and wickedness. From the seat in the audience (or a seat in our van on any given day), the message is clear how things are so often not what they appear. And we do well to slow down before we join the Ozians in their chorus.


  1. My mom figured that one out early on with Cats, and then Phantom of the Opera. It really helped to follow the plotline more carefully when we went to see it too.

  2. Thanks.

    Still, don’t judge the Ozians too harshly.

    Sometimes you can feel as good–or better–getting chucked out as you did when you started the thing. I feel like I can breathe again for the first time in many years.

    Just wish it hadn’t got so petty and vindictive on the part of all involved.

    Not much to be proud or encouraged about from any angle on this one.

    My guess is their celebration won’t last long.

    Like I said, I’m not big on metaphors :^)

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