I'd like to thank the Academy...

Thanksgiving has always been one of my favorite days of the year – a time to reflect on the previous twelve months and remember all for which I am grateful. And the list, as always, is lengthy.

This year was wonderful in many ways – one of which was the fact that after 41 years, I am FINALLY working on Broadway! Well, in actuality, it’s FOR Broadway, but the offices are, in fact, overlooking Broadway, so I’m sticking with my original thought.

In honor of that distinction, I thought, in lieu of a traditional list of all those people and things for which I am thankful, I’d work it into my long-awaited Tony Awards Acceptance Speech! (Come on…you know we’ve all stood in front of a mirror at some point and practiced ‘the speech…’)

Picture it: New York City – June 7, 2009…Radio City Music Hall...

…and the winner is LAURA STOCKER (thunderous applause as I make my way to the Radio City stage, where upon I gently accept the award from presenter Terrence Mann…I allow Terry to kiss my cheek and then turn to the microphone…)

“Thank you! Thank you! This means so much to me – I can’t even find the words – but will give it my best shot!

First of all, I must offer my congratulations to other fine actors in this category – Kristin, Linda, Karen and Audra – just being nominated in your company was enough for me – I am honored to share this evening with you talented ladies!

Where to start? At the very top of course – I’d like to thank God – without whom I would not be standing here today. I am so incredibly blessed and grateful to the Lord for his never-ending forgiveness and for putting me on this path.

My parents – my Dad was my biggest fan – whether I was on stage or off. The first to ever shout “Sing OUT Louise!” to me, and in our final moments together I was singing show tunes to him. Pop – it may be my name on this award – but it is YOURS in every way that matters!

My wonderful husband – thank you for saying I look pretty even when I do not –for making sure that my clothes match before I leave the house in the morning, and for all those accessory suggestions! Look honey – I learned all the words! The best director I ever had --I wouldn’t be here without you!

My friends…my small but mighty posse – you know who you are and each and every one of you knows what you mean to me. Special shout-outs to Kevin, Marky Mark and Peyton – look Emma – I said your Daddy’s name on national TV! And Kevin – I’m doing my best to not ‘mug’ at the camera!

For my sisters Kathy and Paula – Kathy punched out the neighbor kid when we were little after he made fun of my singing: ‘my sister has a beautiful voice you lunkhead!’ And Paula, who never got to play Mary in the Christmas pageant and always had to sing harmony so I could shine!

For my brother who disappeared for years, but returned when it was important and showed us all what being a family meant!

Two teachers who made an impact – my beloved Miss Willis who taught me to ‘seize the day’ and Mrs. Witmer – who refused to give me a decent part in one of her musicals. One of you believed in me, and one of you made me want to prove you wrong. How do you like me NOW Mrs. Witmer?

And for the Pipeline Gang – thanks for letting me sing in the office almost constantly – and apologies for the tap dancing induced scuff marks on the hard wood floors – gotta dance!

And finally, to the cast and crew of Superman the Musical – you lift me up, both literally and figuratively with each new performance.

Thank you again – I will treasure this award almost as much as I treasure the village behind me that made it happen. Good night!”

Same old, brand new me

I had heard the expression many, many times -- "I was walking down the street and Jesus tapped me on the shoulder."

Or heard from a colleague or acquaintance that "so and so had found Jesus."

Most times, one or both of these statements was accompanied by a snicker. Or a giggle. Or a less than flattering follow up comment.

But not from me -- I was usually intellectually intrigued, and even a bit envious -- "What would that be like?"

Now I know.

Jesus did not "tap me on the shoulder." Metaphorically speaking, he came at me with a two by four to the gut.

A bit of background: I was raised a Roman Catholic -- Catholic School, scary nuns, CCD, confirmation, the whole deal. And I was what you would call (at the time) a 'good' Catholic -- could recite mass - in Latin - along with the priest. Could whip through a ten decade rosary in nothing flat. Shuffled All Saints prayer cards with the best of them (most notably my grandmother). Donated money when I could. Could even call Bingo!

But I struggled with the church. I had questions. And I learned, fairly early on, that the church did NOT like my questions. Many of my conversations with Father LaCross or Monsignor Bierschmidt, or, heaven help us - Sister Maria Goretti - somehow ended in my having 'sinned' for asking the question and being handed some penance or another.

I once even questioned why I had to "go to confession?" Couldn't I just go right to the source? And don't even get me started on the classes I had to take before I was "allowed" to be my nephew's godmother -- I had no problem with the classes...but thought the hefty donation they 'strongly suggested' (as in you don't get your coat or your nephew baptized until you pay) was just, well, wrong.

After these, and other incidents too numerous to mention, I drifted away from the Roman Catholic Church. If pressed to self-identify, I'd say I was a lapsed Catholic. I still considered myself a believer and lived what I thought was a Christian life -- devoting countless hours to non-profit organizations and trying to be the most 'giving' person I could be.

Much had always been given to me -- and I always had a strong sense of returning the favor, paying it foward - whichever phraseology works for you. There was (and is) very little I would not do to help a friend or a person in need.

If you would have asked me a week ago, I would have told you in no uncertain terms how "blessed" I was. And I believed it. But I did not really "get" it.

Religion had been in the back of my mind, kind of lurking there, for the past year or so. When I received an Amazon Kindle for my birthday in June, it amused me that because of its black leather cover, complete strangers starting asking me if I was "reading the Bible." After the fifth or sixth time this occurred, I actually thought to myself, "maybe I should be reading the Bible."

During this same time period, I reconnected with close friend from high school. A great friend - the kind of friend any father would want for his sixteen-year-old daughter. Amazingly, a 20-year timeout had done nothing to break that again almost immediate bond. Even more amazing was the broad similarities our lives had taken - down to both of us eloping, to walking away from bad situations, to even working in the same cities during the same months/years.

And whilst catching up, my friend would occasionally slip in a Biblical reference, or a Faith-based anecdote. Not in an overt way, not in any kind of Bible-waving stereotype that you might imagine -- but in a kind, almost gentle "this is who I am now" turn of phrase. And I was further intrigued -- enough so that when he suggested a book he thought I might get something out of -- I started reading.

Most importantly, he was patient. He'd lob a couple of balls in my court (apologies for the tennis references) and then step back and see what I did with them. No outright evangelism. He let me take the lead in asking questions and expressing frustrations, and then would gently suggest a path, a verse, a column (he's a writer), a song. And his enthusiasm was infectious.

And after several weeks, it all began to come together for me.

The specifics - the exact moment, the precise phrase of verse that got me, those details are not for public consumption -- still too new, and very, very personal. As I think it should be -- at least for me, at least right now. Suffice to say it was among the most profound moments of my life.

I have accepted Jesus Christ into my heart and as my savior. That's the important part.

I didn't "find" Jesus - He found me. Exactly as it was meant to happen, at exactly the moment in time that He thought best.

The few folks I mentioned this to have seemed startled by my revelation. Or amused by it. Or threatened by it. Feel what you must, but be happy for me. For a long I felt as if something important was missing - and I don't feel that anymore. I ask nothing from friends and/or family - I'm sure I won't suddenly start evangelizing. You may notice a new lightness in my step - you may not notice anything.

To many of you, I will simply remain the goofiest person you know.

I am looking at this right now as a journey -- everything about me is the same, and yet nothing is the same.

On Sunday, my favorite person celebrates his 58th birthday!

Trying to buy him a gift is always a challenge -- he's difficult to surprise, and when pressed always says that there is "nothing that he wants." I however, know this is not the case -- I just know that what he really wants cannot be wrapped up in a box with a pretty bow.

So, dear husband, if I had it within my power, this is what I give you for your birthday this year:

1. Another World – I’d bring back your favorite, long-ago canceled soap opera – complete with the characters you loved so much – and a one day ticket to Bay City so you could spend a bit of time with them.

2. A visit with your beloved Pups, long gone to heaven – wouldn’t it be fun to watch Maddie, Manny, and Boris play in the yard with Lucky and Fletcher? And you know not one of them would listen to a simple command without a treat included.

3. A private audience with one of your favorite singers – maybe Janis Joplin?

4. A week without pain of any kind – no aching back – and you could sleep facing any direction you like!

5. Your own piece of private beach -- complete with a big chair, a tall glass of sweet tea, and dolphins jumping in the ocean off in the distance.

6. Your own personal “no fly” zone – there are few things that make you crazier than a buzzing fly – so on this special day I would ensure that your personal space repels all such winged creatures.

7. The opportunity to direct your own Broadway show – with your ‘fantasy’ cast. What would you choose? Mack & Mabel? Or maybe a revival of Kiss of the Spider Woman?

8. A guest appearance on one of the Law & Order shows – you’d be fabulous as a jury foreman, or the guy that finds the body behind the dumpster!

But most of all, I would give you the gift of seeing yourself as others see you. The children whose lives you've impacted -- the ones who run up and hug you in restaurants, the parents who stop you to tell you how well "Susie" or "Billy" is now doing in college or the military. Those who are shocked and pleased that Mr. Stocker remembers them almost ten or twenty years later. A generation of kids who will go out into the world a bit wiser due to your influence and guidance.

Happy Birthday Morty!

Hey! My Buddy Hugh is the Sexiest Man Alive!

It was bound to happen -- after all, how many times can People magazine continue to select those boring, boy-bots as their Sexiest Man Alive?

But finally they got it right -- Hugh Jackman!

Now before I go any further, and for my more manly readers who are already groaning and reaching for the mouse to close this window...stay put -- give me a minute here.

YES -- the "Sexiest Man Alive" concept is positively silly -- I get that. YES -- People Magazine is, for the most part, the worst kind of literary drivel -- 100% with you on that one too.

But Hugh and I go way back!

And, let me tell you -- my first experience with him was filled with utter disdain -- this unknown Aussie was going to play one of my favorite comic book heroes -- Wolverine! I took one look at him and was prepared to forgo the entire X-Men movie franchise! And it didn't help that the only footage Entertainment Tonight had of him was of the UK production of Oklahoma (he played Curley - a singing rancher!).

But the Hugh-ster won me over -- and I enjoyed both his subsequent turns as Wolverine, and other roles (The Prestige anyone? Anyone? And Swordfish?)

But my 'crush' came to a head when he hit the boards (that's Broadway for the uninitiated) in The Boy From Oz. I was very nervous for Hugh (do you like the way I talk about him as if I really know him?) -- my fear was that I wouldn't be able to separate his Wolverine character from the obviously flamboyant Peter Allen. No fear - he had me from the first note he played on the piano. (Yes -- Hugh actually learned to play piano for the role).

I even got to meet him after seeing the show -- both times I saw it. First time was with my Mom...who watched in horror as her normally articulate daughter melted down and could not string two words together. I think the conversation went something like this:

Hugh: Hi, I'm Hugh.
Laura: Arh arh gobly gok
Hugh: Did you enjoy the show?
Laura: Arh arh gobly gok
Hugh: Well...enjoy the rest of your time in the City
Laura: Arh arh gobly gok

My Mom was laughing so hard she barely got me in the frame of the picture -- which, I believe, sadly, speaks for itself. She later said that she was sure Hugh went home that night and told his wife: "...and you wouldn't believe the sweet mentally challenged girl I met after the show..."

A month or so later, hubby and I went to see the show -- and trust me, this time I wasn't even going to ATTEMPT conversation -- until, by coincidence, Brad realized that his college roomie was playing trombone in the pit and he invited us to visit with him after the show.

The less said about the actual visit, the better.

Keep in mind - I am NOT easily flustered, and have worked with celebrities ranging from Sinatra to Billy Joel to U2 and just about everyone in between. Each and every time I managed to conduct myself professionally and with complete decorum.

But this was WOLVERINE!

Imagine if it had been Superman?

But here, for my single male buddies, is why I believe Hugh Jackman is deserving of the Sexiest Man Title -- for those of you who have asked me over the years - "What do women really want?" And trust me -- it has very little do to with his appearance:

1. He loves his wife -- adores her in fact. In every interview I have ever read, and both times I met him -- he talked at length about his wife and (then) son. And I mean talked -- you could see his love for them radiating from him. I was a stranger -- and he told me a funny story about his son -- that demonstrated how proud he was.

2. He shares the wealth. I don't just mean monetarily, although he does that too, through his foundation. He deflects the spotlight from himself and is always pulling others toward it. Saw it in person - "Have you met Isabel, she played my mother-in law..."

3. He's a goof. He sings and dances on movie sets and during interviews! He is unabashedly a fan of musical theatre and doesn't care who knows it. He doesn't 'hide' that which he feels people might poke fun at!

4. He lives in the moment. This is a biggie. When he is speaking with you, you are the single most important person at that moment. He is PRESENT. He is listening and responding in kind. He is paying attention and remembering small details.

To my mind, it has nothing to do with ripped abs or a great smile - that's just window dressing.

"You should tell THAT one..."

One of the interesting things about writing a blog is that not only do I forget that folks are actually reading it, but the "blog topic suggestion" emails I receive after almost every missive. It would seem that I've told a lot of pals a lot of stories over the years (thankfully, I remember almost all of them!).

But above and beyond, the requests seem to be for those stories surrounding my adventures and mis-adventures on the stage.

So here, for all of you fans of "How Many Ways Can Laura Make a Fool of Herself on Stage" -- is my top seven list of Laura's Theatrical Mishaps:

7. Kindergarten: I have a lead role in the Camp Curtin Kindergarten production of "The Four Basic Food Groups" -- playing the challenging role of "milk." It could be my dairy goodness shining through, but I strongly suspect it was type casting, as I was the only caucasion child in the class. Classic moment: deciding that the kid playing "protein" was dancing into my key light -- "protein" went down hard that day.

6. First Grade: I am selected to sing "Take Our Bread" (Hymn no. 88 in any Catholic hymnal) for the All Saints Day service. Having grown up watching Merv Griffin and Dinah Shore, and with minimal rehearsal, halfway through the first verse I unwind the microphone from the stand at the altar and begin walking into the "audience" swinging the cord and hamming it up. Never asked to sing at Holy Family again, although my Dad thought I was GREAT (and was the only one that clapped). If memory serves, my performance actually STOPPED communion.

5. Third Grade: Miss Patsy's School of Dance Spring recital -- we are doing a production number called the "Tossed Salad Ballet" (I know -- who dreams up these dances for small girls?). I was playing a carrot. We all had vegetable costumes with matching hats. About halfway through the first act it occurs to me that the "lettuce" is really the "star" of a salad -- and I am NOT the lettuce! So I do what any 8-year-old prima donna would do -- at intermission, I switch all the hats! Curtain goes up on Act II and all of the little veggie dancers have on mis-matched headpieces. And you can all guess who was wearing the lettuce leaf!

4. High School: Finally a lead role in the play "Fall of the House of Usher" by Poe. I'm playing "Madeleine," a girl who 'returns' from the dead! Great part -- I get painted up like a ghost and actually get to crawl out of a coffin on stage. During opening night, my big scene arrives, and I make my entrance out of the coffin and a small child in the front row yells -- "look, it's Smurfette!" (Picture long blonde hair and blue-ish stage make-up) Audience laughs during my critical - designed to be frightening scene. Some days it just doesn't pay to climb out of your coffin.

3. College -- far too many incidents to get into one blog entry -- kicking a knife on stage that was supposed to a prop but wasn't -- sliced right into my foot and bled all over the stage. Finished the scene and got eleven stitches. Or the time I tap-danced right into the orchestra pit. Or the time I literally got dumped by my college boyfriend during a live production of "A Doll's House" -- he came backstage and dumped me before Act II!

2. Community Theatre: Performing the role of "Audrey" in "Little Shop of Horrors"...gearing up to sing my big first act solo -- and look up to see the show's director literally stuck in a coat rack in the back of the room (probably drunk) -- and my husband desparately trying to free her from the tangle of coat hangers! Somehow managed to get through it without cracking up. I now have a "no wire hangers" clause in all of my performance riders.

and finally, the #1 Laura Theatrical Mishap -- the "Two by Two Fake Pregnancy Belly Incident of 1997"

"Two by Two" is a lovely show - a musical comedy about Noah's Ark. And the final comedic bit (post rainbow and dove) has Noah's three sons and their wives coming out for curtain call with the wives obviously pregnant. (No TV on the Ark) My stage husband and I had only 1 minute prior for a quick costume change in a very small space -- and the poor guy had to more or less "impregnate me" (strapping the pregnancy pillow on me, whilst I held my dress over my head) in the dark, in about a 2'x2' space. Suffice it to say that by the end of the finale, my "belly" was around my knees!

"We should probably NOT mention this to your Mother..."

I can only think of two secrets that my Dad and I shared, over our 38 years together. Neither was truly horrific or life-altering, but they were both incidents that within our tight knit family, only he and I were privy to.

Both were embarrassing (although I didn't think so at the time) and both are most definitely part of the reason why I can never run for public office (you just know that's when the photos would surface!)

Each event would end with these now famous (at least to me!) words: "We should probably NOT mention this to your Mother."

But an email from a friend this morning, brought the memories of incident #1 back to the surface.

I LOVED being a Girl Scout! I was a member of Hemlock Council Girl Scout Troop 1021 for years -- beginning when I was in third grade and continuing, well, until -- well, that's the story.

To me being a Girl Scout represented so many things - and so many opportunities for achievement. I enjoyed being my patrol leader, fundraising, and earning merit badges. I LIVED to earn merit badges and still have my completely covered Girl Scout sash -- which, with little encouragement I am happy to dig out and show to visitors to my home.

(Who am I kidding with the "dig out" -- I know exactly where it is at all times -- on the same shelf with some of my other trophies and tiaras.)

Scouting appealed to my mildly competitive nature as well -- my patrol was the BEST -- no other patrol could do as many sit-ups, pitch a tent faster, or sing The Smile Song in perfect four part harmony! And don't even ask about Cookie sales -- NO ONE could move boxes of Thin Mints like I could!

I took Scouting seriously.

In my mind, I was well on my way to my Gold Award - the Girl Scout equivalent to the coveted Eagle Scout honor.

Even as a kid I only knew two speeds: on and off. "On" is ON - full steam ahead, get out of my way if you know what's good for you -- I'm the original GO FIGHT WIN girl!

"Off" is basically when I'm asleep.

This attitude did not always win me many friends among my patrol members - but they sure enjoyed earning those merit badges with me during the annual award ceremony.

One year in particular I had truly excelled -- to the point where I was asked to represent my troop at the National Juliette Low Day ceremony in Washington DC. I was 13 or 14 and could not have been more excited.

Further, I was asked to introduce the Keynote Speaker!

I worked for weeks on my speech - which was truly only about 8 sentences (after all, although I might have pretended otherwise, I was NOT the Keynote Speaker...)

The day before the trip I was practicing my "speech" with my Dad -- he was a fabulous speaker and I wanted to soak up everything I could -- in my mind this little speech could open doors for me that I couldn't even imagine! Who knew what Hollywood talent scouts might be in attendance (a stretch, I now realize...) -- I wanted my speech to sizzle and be memorable! No one would ever forget the name Laura Baker!

And my poor father didn't even realize the series of events he was setting into motion when he told his 13 year old daughter that "it's always a good idea to begin a speech with a joke - a bit of humor."

Less than 24 hours later, I got up in front of the assembled crowd in DC and announced that I thought we should change the name of the organization from "Girl Scouts" to "Women Scouts" and forgo the annual cookie sale in favor of prostitution.

I'm certain I didn't even know what prostitution was -- just that it was a way to "make money."

To say that no one laughed would be an understatement.

My troop leaders were utterly mortified and I was removed from the stage and returned home quickly.

Three days later I came home from the 7th grade to find my father waiting for me -- a registered letter from the Girl Scouts in his hand.

I was no longer a member.

I was officially booted from Girl Scouts.

I didn't even have to tell him what happened -- it was all in the letter. And, having read it, he immediately understood his "part" in what had occurred.

I'm sure I cried on his lap until my sisters got home. And then he uttered those now famous words: "We should probably NOT mention this to your Mother..."

And we never did.

Now 29 years later, I've been asked to participate in a one-time Girl Scout event -- and I'm excited about the possibility -- but trust me: no jokes this time around!