Presenting the ALs

Definitely NOT My Family

The flyers would go out an hour or two before the performance, but we always got a decent sized audience for each showcase the ALs put on. The ALs was what my siblings and I called our act; A for Alexander (my sisters’ last name) and L for my brother and me. Put that all together you get what was decidedly not a Brady, blended family, but you did get the musical ALs.

We’d spend a few hours (maybe more) putting the show together, always song and dance, and lots of fun, at least for the performers. We’d set up chairs for the audience and we even had a curtain strung up along the low ceiling of the basement. The house was a large Tudor home, and the basement was expansive. My parents had painted the concrete floors and the iron columns, brought down some folding chairs, a card table and an old couch and called it a finished basement. It worked for the four of us.

I seem to recall spending hours in that basement. One of my father’s crooked clients had paid him with an authentic pin ball machine that was in one of the smaller rooms off the main basement space. We almost always had a running game of Monopoly or Easy Money set up on the card table (my older sister won every single game as I recall) with a pad keeping tabs of whose turn it was, and an accounting of the game to date. I spent many hours alone roller skating around the columns while singing along to the Shirley Temple record I had on my lavender record player.

When our parents married, each of our families doubled in size, and I can’t imagine it was easy for my parents to blend our two families. There was lots of fighting and screaming; I’d never experienced screaming before. My father’s method of discipline involved long periods of silence. I wasn’t sure which was worse, and to this day I’m still not. I try to avoid both. My sister and father were particular enemies; I remember finding out that my grandmother (my stepmother’s mother) was secretly giving my sister money to not fight with my dad. I tried to stay out of the fray.

The four of us were an odd mix, but in the basement it seemed we could find enough common ground to bond as siblings. My sisters and I are close in age and my brother (as a kid) seemed like a baby to us. We were mean to him, but allowed him to participate in our showcases. I think we had the nerve to sell tickets, but the price did include popcorn. We performed for the neighborhood kids, and on holidays we’d take our shows upstairs to the classier venue of the living room for our hapless relatives.

The ALs as an act lasted only a year or two. We outgrew performing for our relatives, and it all started to feel a bit embarrassing. I wanted to be cool and cool kids didn’t perform musicales with their siblings. When I was twelve our last family performance (sans my brother) was my sisters and me singing along to Mama Cass Elliot’s California Earthquake, complete with fake leather, fringed vests in a school talent show. I’m sure it was cringe worthy, but I can’t imagine having the fortitude to sing in front of an audience now.

Music has always been a big part of our family’s life. My father played the piano and trumpet, and sang almost constantly. My mom loved including music in our holiday celebrations, and we still do. We have handouts that are holiday specific and we sing, a lot. I am generally a grouch about all the singing, though I listen to music almost every hour I’m awake, and adore singing, especially when I am alone in the car and can hit a volume not fit for company. Music has been a significant part of our family culture and though we no longer perform, the ALs can proudly say we’ve passed that on to the next generation.