by Carol White Llewellyn
I attended my first live show when I was about four. I climbed excitedly into the car, wearing my Grandma-made white dress, to go see the Ice Capades. On the way to the show, Dad had to slam on the brakes. Even the mortifying red “badge” down the front of my favorite dress - the result of nose hitting headrest - didn’t mar the ecstasy of that first performance.