"I had the opportunity to enact my childhood fantasies of becoming a super hero"

    It is very difficult to recall any one single moment about my time performing Ron's The Nutcracker with the Sacramento Ballet. It has really been an amazing journey that I am thrilled to be able to continue. I must admit that, like many dancers in the US, the reason I am a dancer today is because I saw The Nutcracker as a kid, and I had an uncontrollable urge to be a part of it. That urge was largely due to the somewhat humorous fact that I found the character of the Nutcracker Prince as, well, kind of an amazing super hero, and the potential of my being able to actually become the Nutcracker onstage was really quite enticing to my seven year old sentiments.

Fast forward twelve years, and you have me, at age 19 and beyond, living out my childhood dreams right there on stage in Sacramento! Its pretty amazing (if not somewhat pathetic:) to say that every year, for the whole month of December, I had the opportunity to enact my childhood fantasies of becoming a super hero (who is also a prince!) by donning a military jacket, a huge mask, commanding an army of soldiers, and engaging in mortal combat with a gigantic rat. And I must say, there was never a show I didn't take full advantage of the opportunity. Before going on stage, I would always puff my chest out and give myself a good stare down in the mirror, transforming into a general. Every small gesture, pulling on my boots, my gloves, my mask, was done with ritual precision. Once on stage, I would feel the swell of standing center stage at military alertness, and would revel in the clipped, crisp militaristic aesthetic given to the role. Then of course the was the calling of the sword, the saluting of my captain, and the invitation to cross swords with the King of the Rats! This sword fight, though momentary, was always epically fulfilled. Often me and my good friend Michael Vester ( usually playing the Rat King behind the mask) would fling muffled insults at each other onstage as we simultaneously displayed out shaking fists of disgust and rage, and more than once on stage, in performance, we broke the wooden swords with which we fought as a result of just a tad bit too much enthusiasm. And then there was the moment, where I was miraculously saved by Clara's flash of bravery, and the final thrust of my sword, sending the the King of Rats into the underworld for good. There was always a moment I treasured, right after slaying the beast, where I would keep my guard up for a few more moments as the beast took its last few breaths, and then, knowing the end was near, I would slowly lower my blade, puff out my chest, and slowly raise my head in a subtle display of noble victory. 

After saluting the efforts of the valiant rodent, my freedom from my wooden features into the human ones of the prince always felt especially sweet, not because of the nostalgia of the role per say, but because it was pretty much ridiculously hot jumping around on stage with that mask on. Yet enacting the role of the grateful prince was also always rewarding, and I would take some sort of feigned, yet authentic, pride introducing her to the Snow King and Queen, and then also showing her the beautiful sights contained within my Land of the Sweets.
    

Though much time has passed since I began dancing, and my relationship and approach to ballet and the art of dance in general has changed and evolved drastically, I get the chance every year, dancing in The Nutcracker, to relive again my childhood dreams. It sounds really cheesy, but its true. Somehow I never get tired of it, of the rituals, the music, the enthusiastic audiences, and the affiliation with my childhood sentiments. And for the latter especially I am always grateful.

Colby Damon