Dear Broadway,
Thank you. Thank you for your magic that is dreams coming true. I first met you when I was twelve years old, at a production of The Phantom of the Opera. I’d been enthralled by your magic for years, but I met you in person that wonderful night. Phantom has always held a special place in my heart, and as a young soprano, I dreamed of the day I could sing as high as Christine could. I sang the title song with my best friend as she played the piano, not really caring that my voice was squeaky and unrefined. I was trying, I was doing my best, emulating the best.
That production of Phantom was life-changing. The costumes, the talent, the set – I was beyond lucky to see Sierra Boggess as Christine. I didn’t know much then about you, Broadway, but I knew that Sierra Boggess was a big name, and I got to see her perform.
I didn’t stage door until my next Broadway show. You see, I saw Phantom in February, and my mother did not want to wait outside in the cold New York winter. We went to Juniors for dessert instead, a fine replacement indeed. You see, Broadway, I was young and oblivious to your magic that is after a show, when the actors disappear into the city streets. Oh, how I’ve wished and hoped to run into the likes of Sutton Foster or Christy Altomare on those streets – I always carry a notebook and pen when I’m in the city, just for that reason.
My first stage door was at Something Rotten! with most of the original cast. It was incredible! These incredible actors were real people, going home after work. I held a small conversation with Heidi Bickenstaff and took a selfie with Christian Borle. Broadway, you have no idea how these momentous few minutes changed my life. Your people are celebrities, and they walk the streets with the common man. Broadway, you just don’t know what you’re capable of for simple dreamers like me.
My most magical experience, Broadway, was at Come From Away. This is a prime example of your unstoppable magic: Jenn Colella at the stage door, accepting a fan gift from a still-shaking teenage girl, fidgety fingers folding something from nothing, a small token of my appreciation. I shook hands with Chad Kimball, took a picture with Astrid Van Wieren, and chatted with fellow fans as we waited for these magic-makers to share this night with us. Broadway, you have given us fans such a gift: even if you never make it to your Great White Way, you still welcome us at the stage door, in the streets, and in your heart.
Broadway, if I could live near you, I would. I don’t live close enough. At home I’m four hours by bus; at school, I’m two and a half hours by car. I don’t have any way to visit with you, Broadway, and it pains me to stay away for so long. You see, Broadway, I too am a theatre kid, with an unfulfillable wish to become a part of your magic. I dream of singing show tunes with the best of the best, learning choreography way beyond my ability, and having scene partners from schools I would never make it in to. Broadway, you make dreams come true, and you make dreams close enough to touch. If I knew the right people, I too could stand on a Broadway stage. I too could make friendly conversation with celebrities at the stage door, and take a masterclass with true Broadway greats.
Thank you, Broadway, for your magic. You enthrall me with the possibilities of spending a day in the city and astound me with your creations, and I can never get enough of your magic. Broadway, because I knew you, I have been changed for good. My dreams are never too far away because I know that when I’m near you, the sky’s the limit. Broadway, when I’m near you, I’m home.
With all my heart,
Naomi Cohen
