On two separate occasions I chaperoned a group of fourth and fifth graders to a performance at the Orpheum in Memphis. Someone was very generous and paid for the entire bus load to see a Saturday matinee performance so a handful of adults and roughly thirty children loaded onto a bus for the three-hour drive there. We did not let any of them know what they were going to see until we actually got on Interstate 55. When they found out they went bananas.

Our seats were in the first mezzanine. None at the edge but when the performance started almost everyone was at the ledge, kneeling down with their chins resting on their crossed arms watching like the show was just for them. We grown-ups liked it but the children spoke about it for months. That was a magical experience they will carry with them their entire life.

The second trip happened two years later and it was a repeat of that first trip in every way. Regrettably our benefactor passed away and his heirs were not as keen on sharing his good fortune so there was never a third trip.

It may have it critics but for a group of eight to ten-year-olds it will always hold a special place in their hearts. Mine too for seeing how they lit up their faces and hearts that day.