Having just moved to Glendale from Silver Lake, I remember with great clarity dropping my son off for his first day of kindergarten. My daughter was in second grade.
Standing outside the fence of the playground, I waited with my son for the teachers to open the gate. Once they did, he lined up with the other kids for the first time.
As the teacher took the kids away, I remember thinking how quickly our kids were growing and my eyes immediately started to water. Not wanting the other parents to see a grown man drown in his own sentimentality, I quickly put my sunglasses on and walked away to sob in the privacy of my car.
The very same ritual would be repeated again when my youngest daughter made her entrance into the kindergarten playground.
Jobs have come and gone. Our family split up. I've relocated six times. Parents and grandparents have died. And through the good, the bad and all of the ugly during the course of these 11 years, R.D. White has been one of the only constants in our life here in Glendale.
I will take with me vivid memories, some heartwarming and some funny, of my daughters participating in the various musicals and other stage events over the years. The teachers and volunteers who dedicated heart and soul to make our kids stars, if only for one night, have my eternal respect.
Of those events, one of the most amusing was a Christmas show performed at the Glendale Marketplace on an unseasonably hot December day. As the kids sang holiday songs in the blazing sun, one student staggered and stumbled around semi-coherently in a thick snowman costume, risking heat stroke merely to provide a visual accent to “Frosty the Snowman.”