The grandest baby and I have been on a Cinderella kick. The Disney channel aired the Disney movie the other day, so I recorded it for my iPad and the baby and I watch it together almost every day (well, she watches it, I answer emails and sing along).
Yesterday I found the Rogers and Hammerstein version with Brandy and Whitney Houston. We liked that one, too, and we’ve watched it twice (the full movie is on YouTube.com), because I love the songs.
Surfing around through YouTube, we also found a CBS TV version from 1965 starring Julie Andrews–it’s a hoot! Black and white, and all the gowns look like something Jackie Kennedy might have worn.
But my favorite version by far is the Rogers and Hammerstein version with Leslie Ann Warren. She plays the role with such a vulnerability that it just makes you believe that Cinderella could be a true story. 🙂 I can’t find a full version online, though there are VHS tapes of it on ebay. There are DVD versions on Amazon.com and ebay, but they are so rare that they sell for $100 and up. Wow!
Anyway–I’m getting to the slippers–the grandbaby came downstairs in her PJs last night to say goodnight. She was wearing gold sandals. I asked my daughter why she was wearing her sandals to bed, and my daughter said that the baby called them her “slippers”–she was wearing golden slippers.
Well, of course. You can’t watch Cinderella all day and not think about slippers. 🙂
So as she climbed the stairs, I called out, “Good night, Cinderella.”
And she echoed, “Night, Cindewella.”
Good night, indeed.
~~Angie
Angie,
I couldn’t help but smile warmly when I read your post. I haven’t heard a reference to the Golden Slippers in quite some time. As a child, my family and I would gather around our player piano and sing for hours late into the summer night. We sang songs of a bygone era: K-K-K-Katie waiting at the garden gate, Ramona who wore a rambling rose in her hair, a soldier begging for one last kiss from his Toot-Toot Tootsie before he boarded the train, a wanderer longing for the ‘ol folks at home, and of course, the golden slippers I’s a goin’ to wear to walk d’ golden street. So there we were, little children far too short to see over the grown-up’s heads, perched on a teenager’s shoulder who was sandwiched between the octogenarian and the thirty-something belting out our melodies. That music wove an invisible thread through all those people and bound them together. It mattered not that the music belonged to a different generation… it belonged to us. And so these many years later, it still does.
Thank you for letting me wax nostalgic.
Angie,
I couldn’t help but smile warmly when I read your post. I haven’t heard a reference to the Golden Slippers in quite some time. As a child, my family and I would gather around our player piano and sing for hours late into the summer night. We sang songs of a bygone era: K-K-K-Katie waiting at the garden gate, Ramona who wore a rambling rose in her hair, a soldier begging for one last kiss from his Toot-Toot Tootsie before he boarded the train, a wanderer longing for the ‘ol folks at home, and of course, the golden slippers I’s a goin’ to wear to walk d’ golden street. So there we were, little children far too short to see over the grown-up’s heads, perched on a teenager’s shoulder who was sandwiched between the octogenarian and the thirty-something belting out our melodies. That music wove an invisible thread through all those people and bound them together. It mattered not that the music belonged to a different generation… it belonged to us. And so these many years later, it still does.
Thank you for letting me wax nostalgic