Steve Martin’s first stage performance was in the same place as most others I know.
It was a school play in Inglewood, California.
I remember one of
my first performances in Panama City, Florida.
We sang “…down by the creek bank, by the ole holler log…” in a church play.
Of course, we thought it was just another silly obligation that our parents had put us in.
But we had no idea our memories were being forged and that our childhoods were quietly packing up and moving on, one day at a time.
The worst part of childhood is that you don’t remember even half of it.
A few months later, we moved from Hollywood to Inglewood, California, and lived in a small bungalow on Venice Way, directly across from Highland Elementary School. This was the site of my first stage performance, where, in kindergarten, I appeared as Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer. My matronly teacher, who was probably twenty-two, explained that I would be dressed up like Rudolph and—this was the best part—I would wear a bright red nose made from a Ping-Pong ball.