These past three years, I have been lucky enough to be a participant in an amazing theatre program called Five Star. This was my final summer at Five Star, as I am now fifteen. Today, during our last day together, all of the “graduating” participants gave speeches describing their experiences. This rambling, emotional mess was mine. I wrote it in the middle of the night, and it isn’t exactly a masterpiece, but I think I conveyed my emotions as well as I could. 

Five Star = Family. 

I guess I should start by saying that I honestly didn’t think that this day would ever come. Even now, I want so badly believe that it isn’t quite over yet. How can it be? What happened to the scared, uncertain, insecure little girl I used to be, the one who stepped through the high school doors three years ago, and into one of the most wonderful experiences of her life? How could the time pass so quickly, within the blink of an eye, when I remember that first morning as clearly as though it were yesterday?

I can safely say that these past three summers were the best I have ever had. To perform in a show requires confidence, fearlessness, enthusiasm, and trust. There are no words for the electrifying experience of opening night, or that one final moment of raw energy and excitement before the curtains part and you step forward beneath stage lights.

To agree to be a part of the Five Star theatre program is to agree to spend long hours in the auditorium, longer hours in the rooms without air conditioning, and to handle the pressure and intensity of the audition, callback, and performance without complaint. But it is something else as well. To join Five Star is to open yourself to that rich, emotional, and unforgettable display of unbridled freedom, self-expression, and joy that can only be found in one place in the world: the theatre.

*****

These three summers have left me with a lot of people to thank.

My first shout-out goes to the remarkable Julia Popken. Without you I would never have taken any interest in theatre. When you invited me to the RMHS performance of Me And My Girl, I tagged along hoping it wouldn’t be too boring. As it happened, that night was some sort of turning point for me. After showing up at Me And My Girl twice more in that week, I proceeded to attend every single RMHS play that was put on in the next two years. Theatre became an incredibly important part of my life— I remember staying home when my family went on vacation to New York, because I had heard that the drama club was putting on Chess that weekend, and I was determined to see it not once, but every single night. Julia, it seems like so long ago that you first encouraged me to start Five Star, and then guided and supported me all the way throughout my first summer here. Now we are almost in our sophomore year of high school, and you are a part of that same drama club we used to watch so faithfully together. I go to those shows alone now to watch you perform. And I want to thank you for helping me recognize a dream, and encouraging me to pursue it. If it hadn’t been for you, I might have missed out on everything.

My second shout out goes to Samantha Gibbs. I had an amazing time with you these last two summers. You are as remarkably genuine and loving as you are confident and hilarious, and I enjoyed every moment we spent together. I watched you grow more and more independent this summer, and I knew you were going to be just fine without me. Sammie, you were the little sister I always wanted, the sweetest and most entertaining sidekick I could ever have asked for. I love you, sweetie, and I’m sorry that I won’t be here to carry your bag around for you next summer.

My third shout out goes Mr. Endslow, Ms. Killian, Ms. Stone, and all of the counselors and staff. If I could say any one thing to you all, it would be this: never underestimate the power of what you do. The talent, energy, and passion you display provides the inspiration for everybody in this program. Your enthusiasm does not go unappreciated. The kids at Five Star view you all as role models, authority figures, and friends, and the impact you have is enormous. Never forget that, because you mean a lot to all of us.

My final shout out goes out to every single fifteen year old in this auditorium. I have loved every year spent in this incredible program with all of you. We grew up together, spent our summers together, and performed together. I don’t think any of us truly expected it to end. But I guess we should always have known that it wouldn’t last, because it was beautiful, and beautiful things never do. So now I guess another chapter of our lives ends here, on this stage in front of the people we love the most. Words can’t express just how much I am going to miss all of you next year.

*****

These last three summers have been extraordinary for me. I am not that frightened little girl anymore, struggling to memorize dance moves and make friends in a new place. I have grown and changed and learned, as everybody does. I am almost sixteen years old now: pushing through high school, working on the weekends, and learning how to drive. But whenever I hear those special Five Star warm-up songs, no matter where I am or what I’m doing, the joy of summertime comes back to me, and I am thirteen again. Regardless of what my future may hold, Five Star will always be a part of me. It will always be a part of all of us.

Thank you all for the best three summers of my life.

It is going to be really hard for me to write this.

Well, it’s 1:15 in the morning, and you just turned eighteen.

I can hear you snoring in the room across from me, but I sit wide-awake. Your birthday has certainly given me quite a lot to think about. Turning eighteen has a very special significance in everyone’s life. It’s interesting, it’s eventful, it’s exciting, and it’s more than a little intimidating… or so I would assume.

Eighteen years old means becoming a person: someone of importance, and no longer ‘just a kid’. Being eighteen means being able to vote— Obama 2012! — and as you pointed out tonight, it means that you will no longer be able to murder somebody and be charged as a minor.

But to me, your turning eighteen means so much more than that.

In the almost sixteen years that I have experienced so far, a day has never passed when you were not a central part of my life.

I was there the first time dad showed you how to hit a baseball—when you dropped the bat and chose to pursue a butterfly that was flitting across the yard instead. I was there sleeping side by side in the same twin bed with you, struggling to stay up late into the night to talk incessantly about Harry Potter together. I was there, helping you color our basement carpet with chalk, and witnessed Mom’s reaction when she found us kneeling on the floor, our hands stained with the pink and blue evidence of our guilt. I was there the first time you drove a car, when you seemed intent upon stomping upon the accelerator and the brake alternatively, and nearly giving Sheila a heart attack in the process.

From my earliest childhood, you were my closest companion, my partner in crime, my role model, and my best friend. It has never been easy for me to express just how deeply my love and admiration for you has always run.

There were times just a few years ago, when our interests began to differ and we both hit our teenage years with a vengeance, when living in our house together was similar to living in a warzone.  But here we still stand, one of us a legal adult, and I love you every bit as much as I did when we were five and seven years old.

From the very beginning I was your shadow: modeling everything I did after you.  I admired your intelligence, your natural leadership, your athleticism, your maturity, your composure, and your uncensored— yet unmatched—sense of humor. But most of all, I have always admired the relentlessness, consistency, and dedication with which you pursue your passions.

You were cut from your travel baseball team at just ten years old, and even then, I was taken aback by the incredible maturity and perseverance with which you overcame the situation. I saw the hours you spent outside, throwing a ball against the pitch-back until you were athletically unmatched, and then watched as you started on the varsity baseball team your freshman year of high school. I saw you break records and win games, and looked on with a bizarre combination of irritation and pride as the art and writing awards of mine, which were hanging up on the wall, were slowly but steadily overrun by the various newspaper articles and photos featuring your athletic ability and eventual acceptance into Notre Dame.

And I must admit, I still get that painful lurch of anxiety in my stomach when someone mentions you going away to college. It’s hard to imagine life without you, it really is.

But today isn’t a day for uncertainties and goodbyes. Today is a day of celebration and triumph.

So congratulations Scottie, for eighteen years of being one of the most remarkable people I know. You taught me more than I could possibly say about passion, dedication, and standing up for what you believe in.

You are the best big brother I could ever have asked for.

Happy birthday, and I love you so much!