I am a Christian, wife, mother, educator, musician and writer. After teaching pre-kindergarten, kindergarten and college level classes, I became a curriculum specialist for McGraw-Hill and I traveled the country training educators and supporting schools. After becoming a mother I resigned from my job but McGraw-Hill asked me to come back as a per diem consultant. My dream job is being mommy to our miracle baby, Lillian Clare. When I'm not spending time with my active “mini me,” you will find me volunteering at school, playing the clarinet in the Saint Louis Wind Symphony and the Northwinds Concert Band, attending Bible study or singing in the Treble Choir at my church.
Contact me at noteworthymommy@gmail.com
On the very first day of school, mini me reflected the love of Jesus in such a simple, yet powerful way, by welcoming a new friend into her circle. What made it even more special was discovering that this “new” friend was actually an old one, a preschool buddy who had returned to Zion after five years away. Though so much time had passed, their bond was still there, as if no time had gone by at all! Watching them reconnect was such a sweet reminder of how God weaves relationships back into our lives at just the right time.
A few months later, mini me and her friends had the chance to share that same love again. One afternoon, as I crossed the playground from school to church, I noticed a little girl sitting alone. She was new to Zion and was trying to fit in with a group, but it didn’t seem to be working. My heart went out to her. Not long after, mini me and her friends noticed her too and without hesitation, they welcomed her in.
This new friend is bilingual, and her family recently joined our school community. I’ve since connected with her mom via text and we use Google Translator to communicate since she speaks Spanish. Despite any language barrier, kindness has spoken louder than words. The girls have grown close, and mini me even invited her to her upcoming birthday sleepover!
Moments like these remind me that love doesn’t need translation, it’s understood in every language. When children lead with kindness, they reflect the heart of Jesus in the most beautiful ways.
It’s hard to believe another school year has begun and this one is extra special! My mini me is officially a fifth grader at Zion Lutheran School, kicking off Zion’s 174th year of Christian education. What a legacy this school has, and what a blessing that we get to be part of it.
This year is bittersweet, it’s her last year in the main building and her final year of elementary school. Next fall she’ll cross the parking lot into the “big, bad” junior high building that houses 6th, 7th, and 8th grade. That territory feels way out of this Noteworthy Mommy’s area of expertise (and comfort zone), but thankfully, we’re not there just yet. For now, I’m soaking in this milestone year.
Mini me bounded into the first day of school full of excitement. The biggest smiles came when she realized she was placed in class with her bestie, Abby, and the rest of her friend group. She instantly fell in love with her homeroom teacher, Miss Skerston, but also loves Mrs. Cornejo, who guides her in Reading and English. What a gift to have teachers who not only dedicate themselves to academics but also share their faith daily, teaching my girl about Jesus, life, and gradually preparing her for the leap to junior high.
Mini Me showed Jesus’s love on the very first day of school when she warmly adopted a new friend into her friend group, making sure no one felt left out. How exciting it was to find out that this “new” friend is actually one of her preschool buddies who has returned to Zion after five years away! The girls picked right back up where they left off, and mini me and her friends were thrilled to add her to their little circle. It was such a joyful way to kick off the school year!
With 5th grade comes more responsibility. This year’s school supply list included a massive zip-up binder (think Trapper Keeper for all you 80s kids, only this one is made of fabric, has zippers, pockets, files, all the bells and whistles). Picking it out was like going car shopping, with the various colors and features. She also made the transition to dressing out for PE, which meant stocking up on official Zion Bobcat gym clothes. On top of that, she now has online assignments to keep track of and had to select electives in the arts. She chose choir and beginning band (more on that adventure in a future post), which means she has no study hall. It’s been a challenge, but my determined 5th grader is ready to make it all work!
As I look at her diving into this year with joy, commitment, and faith, I couldn’t be more proud. She truly loves her school, her teachers, and her friends. Zion has always been more than just a school—it’s a family. And with a new principal and assistant principal leading the way, I know this will be an amazing year filled with growth, laughter, and many blessings.
Here’s to 5th grade, new adventures, and another year at Zion Lutheran School. I couldn’t think of a better place to be!
It’s an honor to share a few words about someone who left a positive mark on my life—Mike Montague.
Mike and I shared something special from the start—we were both Christmas babies, born on December 25th, 24 years apart. We also have loving partners named Ken, and share a deep passion for music. For twenty years, we sat side by side in the Northwinds Concert Band, clarinets in hand and music in our hearts. But more than that, Mike was my musical mentor.
He was an extraordinarily talented musician, always in pursuit of the perfect sound. Whether it was offering me alternate fingerings, helping me figure out a tricky passage, or suggesting small changes to improve tone, Mike’s guidance was always spot-on. He was constantly tinkering—trying new combinations of mouthpieces, ligatures, and barrels, searching for just-the right sound. He even made his own reeds—some of the best I’ve ever played on! His knowledge was vast, and he shared it so generously.
But it wasn’t just musical wisdom he passed along. Every Tuesday night at rehearsal, Mike delivered gentle life lessons—little pieces of insight I didn’t always realize were treasures until much later. In his soft-spoken way, he encouraged, uplifted, and taught me how to truly listen, not just to the music, but to life.
Mike supported me in everything I pursued. When I told him about my work as a reading consultant, he lit up with curiosity and pride. You see, Mike was also a scientist. His passion for science matched his love of music, and our conversations would often dive deep into the science of reading, the science behind music, and everything in between.
When I became a mother, Mike beamed with pride. He always mentioned how smart she was going to be because she had two musicians for parents. Mike was fascinated not just by my daughter’s musical genetics—offering tips on how to develop her perfect pitch—but also by her very existence. I call her my “miracle baby” but I think Mike was thrilled that she existed through the advancements in science, she being an IVF baby! I shared weekly reports about her antics and her growth, and this brought him pure joy.
One moment that has stayed with me happened on my 50th birthday, as I approached this milestone, Mike gave me a piece of advice that I now carry into my 50s. He said, “Enjoy your 50s. You’ve got the smarts—you’ve learned so much—and you still have your health. Now’s the time to live life, go places, do things, and share your wisdom.”
Mike’s words have become my mantra. They inspired me to take charge of my health, to lose over 50 pounds, and to find the courage to use my voice, to not be afraid to speak up, advocate for others, and to live life fully. I’m still a work in progress, but Mike’s voice echoes in my heart and keeps me moving forward.
The last concert Mike and I played together in December 2023.
So, in honor of Mike, I encourage you to take his advice to heart:
Live fully. Share your wisdom. Embrace the music. And celebrate the beautiful differences that make life so rich.
Thank you, Mike, for your music, your science, your kindness, and your light. Your legacy lives on in every note we play, every life you touched, and every Tuesday night memory we carry with us.
*I read these words at Mike’s “Celebration of Life” service on June 21, 2025. I also had the great privilege of performing the piece Rhosymedre, arranged for clarinet quintet.
As the 2024–2025 school year draws to a close, we find ourselves reflecting on moments of joy, gratitude, and transition. At the heart of this season of celebration is someone who has faithfully guided generations through Christian education: Mr. Debrick, Mini Me’s beloved principal, is retiring after an extraordinary 41 years in Lutheran education—27 of those years serving at Zion Lutheran School in Saint Charles.
Our school and church communities came together to honor him with well-deserved celebrations, expressing heartfelt thanks for his steadfast leadership, his devotion to Christian values, and his deep love for students, families, and staff. It was a moving farewell—filled with appreciation, laughter, and a few tears as we lifted him up in prayer and sent him off with blessings for this new chapter in life.
While we celebrated the close of a remarkable career, we also rejoiced in a new beginning. Mini Me’s teacher, Miss Schnegelberger, just completed her very first year in the classroom. With enthusiasm and humility, she shared her reflections on social media, writing how much she has learned and how eager she is to continue growing. There’s something beautiful in witnessing both ends of a vocation—a hopeful start and a faithful finish.
“You’ll always remember your first class and your last class.” That truth resonates deeply. I can still recall nearly every face from my first year of teaching, and just as many from my final year, but fewer from the years in between. The beginning and the end stay with you, yet it’s the in-between, the long, steady walk of service that leaves the most lasting legacy.
Mr. Debrick and Mini Me at the start of the 2024-2025 school year.
Reflecting on Mr. Debrick’s career, I’m awed by the immense change he navigated with courage and vision. The evolution of technology in education alone is a testament to how much the world shifted during his time. From chalkboards and overhead projectors with transparencies (young teachers, go Google those!) to computer labs, then one-to-one devices, and finally Smart Boards—Mr. Debrick shepherded Zion through every innovation. In fact, one of his last projects as principal was overseeing the installation of a brand-new set of Smart Boards.
But it wasn’t just the classroom tools that changed—it was the world itself. Mr. Debrick began his career amid the “Just Say No” era and the AIDS crisis. He guided Zion through the tragic events of 9/11, the heartbreak of school shootings like Columbine, and the implementation of new safety protocols such as intruder drills. My own family experienced firsthand his steady, faith-filled leadership during the COVID-19 pandemic—a time that demanded wisdom, adaptability, and deep trust in God. I will always admire the strength with which he led our school community through that unprecedented season.
Yet Mr. Debrick would be the first to say he didn’t do any of it alone. He walked each day hand-in-hand with his Savior, always pointing others toward Jesus. His humble spirit, servant heart, and love for his Heavenly Father were evident in every decision he made, every student he greeted, every teacher he encouraged. That example of faith in action may well be his greatest gift to us all.
One of the most touching moments during his Right of Farewell and Godspeed service at church was a special performance by a junior high choir, assembled just for the occasion, who sang Mr. Debrick’s favorite song: “Make Me a Servant.” He loves this song so deeply that he often invited his staff to sing it together, a musical reminder of the calling they shared.
There’s a version of the song that holds particular meaning, and the lyrics are worth carrying close:
These words echo the life and career Mr. Debrick lives. He taught children about Jesus—not only through chapel messages or religion classes but through his daily actions, his kindness, and his unwavering faith. I will carry those lyrics with me, just as so many others will, remembering the power of humble service and the sacredness of a life poured out for others.
My family of three have been at Zion for 7 years with Mini Me starting preschool at age 3 and just completing the 4th grade. What a blessing it has been to have Mr. Debrick’s leadership at Zion and what a legacy he leaves behind after 41 years in Lutheran education!
From the Talley family: Thank you, Mr. Debrick, for everything. For your warm wave each morning. For your constant smile. For always putting Jesus, children, and families first. Your devotion has made a lasting impact, and your presence will be deeply missed.
We wish you a retirement full of rest, golf, Kansas City Chiefs games, and of course plenty of popcorn! Congratulations on an incredible milestone. May God continue to bless you and your family on the journey ahead!
Mr. Debrick, the Noteworthy Mommy and Mini Me at Mr. Debrick’s “Right of Farewell and Godspeed” Service.
This afternoon, God tucked a little surprise into an ordinary day and Mini Me and I were lucky enough to unwrap it.
Most days after school, we take the same route home. But today, for no real reason, I chose to drive down Highway 94. Maybe it was the sunshine warming the car after a dreary few days, or maybe it was a nudge from the Holy Spirit. Either way, it led us right to the unexpected.
As we neared our neighborhood, we spotted something unusual in the gas station parking lot: a tent, balloons, and a massive horse…a Clydesdale. Not just any Clydesdale, but Rascal, a famous Budweiser Clydesdale with a glossy coat, feathery hooves, and a calm presence that instantly drew a small crowd of admirers. Although feeling a bit under the weather and longing for my comfy chair at home, I quickly turned the car around and pulled in. We couldn’t miss this!
Mini Me’s face lit up as we walked over. She’s an experienced rider, having taken lessons at my cousin’s ranch, so getting to meet Rascal felt extra special. We pet his soft nose, chatted with his handlers, and even got to hold his rein for a quick photo. The spring sun was shining, the breeze was gentle, and for a few minutes, everything in the world felt just right.
Mini Me with Rascal.
For two days I was in bed with the flu, worn out and drained. And now God has brought this. An ordinary Friday transformed by something as simple and grand as a horse in a gas station parking lot. It reminded me that God’s gifts don’t always come wrapped in big plans or tidy schedules. Sometimes they come through a detour, a change in routine, or through a horse named Rascal.
The Noteworthy Mommy with Rascal.
Life has its heavy days. But sprinkled in, like a gift from heaven, are these moments of unexpected joy. Today reminded me to keep my eyes open, my heart open, and my plans open, because you never know when grace will gallop right into your day.
Have you ever had an unexpected surprise like this? I’d love to hear your story. Please comment below.
“For many are called, but few are chosen.” Matthew 22:14
I have often battled with this verse. It’s a bit bleak, many are called, yet only a few are chosen? What does that mean for me, for my family, for the people I love?
Jesus speaks these words at the end of the Parable of the Wedding Feast. The king sends out invitations to his banquet, but many reject them. Others make excuses. Some even attack the messengers. So, the king extends his invitation further, calling in both the good and the bad from the streets. The banquet hall fills, but then the king finds a man without a wedding garment, and he is cast out.
This parable is about Gods kingdom. The call of salvation goes out to many, the Gospel is proclaimed to the world, but not all respond in faith. Some reject it right away. Others try to enter but on their own terms. Only those clothed in His grace, those chosen in Christ, remain at the feast.
As a Lutheran, I take comfort knowing that salvation is entirely God’s work, not mine. I do not choose God, He chooses me. In Baptism, He has called me by name and clothed me in the righteousness of Christ. I do not have to worry about whether I am good enough or whether I have earned my place at the table. The chosen ones are not the strongest, the smartest, or the most deserving. They are not the ones who have given the most money or done the most deeds. They are simply those whom God, in His mercy, has gathered to Himself.
Yet, this verse still calls me to act. The fact that I am among the chosen is not a reason for arrogance, but for gratitude. It reminds me how important it is to share the “Good News” of Jesus’s love and salvation with others. God calls many, and I am part of that calling. Through my words and actions, I can invite others to the feast, pointing them to Jesus, who provides the wedding garment of righteousness.
Today, I find peace knowing that I am both called and chosen. I did not earn it, and I can’t lose it by my own doing. It is God’s gift, through Christ. And with that certainty, I can live in faith, love, and joyful anticipation of the great banquet feast to come.
Prayer: Heavenly Father, thank You for calling me into Your kingdom. I know I do not deserve Your grace, yet You have chosen me in Christ. Clothe me in your righteousness and give me the courage to invite others to Your feast. In Jesus name, Amen
Reflection: Jennifer reminds us that being chosen into God’s Family leaves no room for arrogance, but gratitude. What are you most thankful for because God chose you?
Author:
Jennifer Freeman Talley is a life-long Lutheran, a wife, mom to a Zion 4th grader, educator, writer, and musician. She enjoys subbing at Zion, sings in the choir, and plays the clarinet in the Saint Louis Wind Symphony, Zion’s wind ensemble and the Northwinds Concert Band. www.noteworthymommy.com.
This devotional appeared in Zion Lutheran Church’s 2025 Easter Devotional Book, Chosen People of God.
I’ve always believed that music has the power to carry us through life’s hardest seasons, and if there’s one musical that has walked beside me through both joy and trial, it’s Mary Poppins. Not the classic Disney movie version (sorry, Julie Andrews), but the stage adaptation—deeper, darker, and much more aligned with the tone of P.L. Travers’ original books. Yes, this Noteworthy Mommy has read them, and trust me, they’re dark! Which is why the musical version resonated so deeply with me, it captured that complexity in a way that felt honest and strangely comforting.
I first saw the Mary Poppins musical in 2009, when the original Broadway cast members Ashley Brown (as Mary) and Gavin Lee (as Bert) came through town on tour. From the very first note, I was enchanted. The music, the storytelling, the choreography, everything felt elevated and emotionally rich. I bought the cast recording immediately and listened to it on repeat. And repeat. And repeat. The new songs by George Stiles and Anthony Drewe were brilliant additions, seamlessly integrated that they felt like they’d always belonged. The reimagined book by Julian Fellowes (yes, the Downton Abbey guy) was, in a word, practically perfect.
And as magical as it was, it wasn’t just entertainment. That soundtrack came into my life right when I needed it most.
In 2009, my work life was in upheaval. I had only been working as a full time educational consultant for a few years, and we’d already gone through a small merger where a few people were let go. But then came the big one—we merged with our sister company (who also happened to be our biggest competitor). My manager, the woman who had hired me and mentored me, was let go. Suddenly, I was training on new products I hadn’t worked with before, working under a new manager who hadn’t chosen me, and my team had been dismantled. I felt like a stepchild in a new family that didn’t want me.
It was a confusing, discouraging, and emotionally draining time. And somehow, in the middle of that, one particular song from Mary Poppins became my anthem. My lifeline.
“Anything Can Happen.”
Here are some of the lyrics that carried me:
“Anything can happen if you let it
Sometimes things are difficult, but you can bet it
Doesn’t have to be so
Changes can be made
You can move a mountain if you use a larger spade…”
And especially this line:
“If you reach for the stars
All you get are the stars
But we’ve found a whole new spin
If you reach for the heavens
You get the stars thrown in.”
Those words gave me courage. They reminded me that change, while painful, could also be full of possibility. They gave me a thread of hope to hold onto. And they reminded me that I was not alone.
Of course, the ultimate strength that carried me through didn’t come from lyrics or melodies; it came from my faith. It’s only through God, my Heavenly Father, that I’m able to sit here today and write about that difficult season with perspective and peace. Music may have given me comfort, but it was God who gave me transformation. When I finally handed over all my worries and anxieties to Him, really surrendered, it’s like the floodgates of grace opened. That surrender changed everything.
I’ve written before about the power of music and how God uses it to speak into our hearts. It’s a gift that keeps on giving. But fast forward to 2025, and wouldn’t you know it? Mary Poppins found her way into my life again.
This time, it wasn’t a big Broadway tour. It was a local high school production at Lutheran High School. I almost didn’t go—I was too busy, overwhelmed with our family’s ever-growing calendar. But something nudged me to make it work, and so I carved out one evening (a Thursday night) to attend. Mini Me was going to see it the next day with a friend, I even planned to sneak out at intermission to make it to choir rehearsal.
But God had other plans.
As I entered the theater, I immediately saw two of my dear mommy friends, Beth and Becca, sisters in Christ from my Moms in Prayer group, women I faithfully pray with every week and who have become treasured mommy mentors. They invited me to sit with them, and then two more women from church joined us, ladies who love Advent by Candlelight, the special event I lead each year. I looked around and realized I was surrounded by community. Teachers from my daughter’s school. Parents and students in my daughter’s class. Church members who have poured into our lives in countless and beautiful ways.
And then the show began. It was so good I skipped choir and stayed until the end!
I recognized so many young faces on that stage—kids I’ve watched grow up in church, at Zion Lutheran School, in choir. And there, in the lead role of Mary Poppins, was none other than our senior pastor’s daughter. She sang beautifully, as did the entire cast, and flew high above us like the Mary Poppins in the professional productions! What amazed me the most is many of these young people are involved in other activities outside of theatre, but theatre is the thread that brings them together, unites them. And it’s through theatre that they created art for a room full of people to enjoy. They gifted me with this moment. Full circle. Full heart.
The Noteworthy Mommy with Mary Poppins!
During the show I thought of my loving church/school family, in the room that night, people whom I didn’t even know a mere ten years ago. They are exactly what I got on my knees and prayed for. Tears welled in my eyes as I realized how God works in layers and loops. That He’s constantly weaving stories we don’t fully understand until we’re living in the beauty of their unfolding. Mary Poppins wasn’t just a show that once got me through a tough time. It’s become a symbol of how God plants seeds of hope through art, through people, and through the unexpected magic of second chances.
So yes, Mary Poppins the musical will always be very special to me. Not just because it’s better than the movie (sorry again, Julie), not just because of the amazing score or the masterful writing, but because it was there—God placed it there—when I needed it most.
And I’ll never stop believing:
Go and chase your dreams You won’t regret it. Anything can happen if you let it.
Click on this link and see a special performance of Anything Can Happen Video featuring the leading women of past and present Disney Broadway shows (Ashley Brown is front and center) along with talented girls who participated in a special fine arts program in NYC.
Last week, this Noteworthy Mommy had the joy of stepping into the role of substitute music teacher at Zion. It was a day filled with music, laughter, and a surprising wave of emotion as I got to teach something near and dear to my heart, the recorder, to a room full of energetic 4th graders. But what made it extra special? My very own mini me is in the 4th grade this year, and I got to share this moment with her.
Mini Me and the Noteworthy Mommy
As a lifelong musician, my main instrument is the clarinet, and I hadn’t touched a recorder in years. But it was like riding a bike. The fingerings came back so naturally, almost like my hands remembered what my mind had long forgotten. The kids were eager to play, and when I demonstrated a few tunes for them, they clapped! There is truly nothing more heartwarming than being applauded by a group of nine and ten year olds. Their enthusiasm was contagious.
Teaching Zion 4th graders the recorder.
We played familiar favorites like When the Saints Go Marching In and Jingle Bells, but the piece that moved me most was a simple melody by Mozart titled Andante. I played it carefully for the class and explained that “andante” is a musical term meaning moderately slow. As the gentle notes floated through the room, I was suddenly transported back in time, not just to my own childhood when I first learned to play the recorder in 4th grade but to those sweet early days of motherhood.
I remembered holding my infant daughter in my arms, streaming lullabies in the soft glow of her nursery. I remembered the way her tiny fingers curled around mine, the scent of her baby skin, and the ache in my heart as I packed away each set of outgrown clothes, mourning the passage of time. I was scared back then, unsure of the future, desperate to hold onto those fleeting newborn moments. If only I had known the amazing things God had in store for both of us!
Teaching that music lesson was a full circle moment. From 4th grade me learning the recorder, to over four decades of playing the clarinet, making music with friends, joining musical ensembles, and creating lifelong memories; music has always been a thread running through my life. That little plastic recorder reminded me that beauty doesn’t have to come from something fancy. Joy can be found in the simplest of melodies.
And perhaps the best part of this experience is it helped me connect with the class in a new way. I’m usually the mom leading classroom parties or driving on field trips, but on this day, they saw me as a musician. And they listened. Really listened. We laughed, we played, and we made music together.
Music has a way of bringing back memories, of stirring feelings long buried, of connecting people across time and space. It’s full of emotion and it’s meant to be shared. And yes, if you want to torture someone, just put them in a room of 4th graders playing the recorder and don’t let them wear earplugs! We all start somewhere and I sounded exactly the same when I began. But there’s beauty in that, too.
God gives us such wonderful and unexpected opportunities. What a gift to be my daughter’s music teacher for the day. What a privilege to share this musical connection with her. What joy there is in music!
If you had told me a year ago that a Broadway musical about the women’s suffrage movement would become one of my all-time favorites, I might have been skeptical. But then I saw SUFFS. And not just any performance—I had the absolute privilege of seeing it on Broadway in December 2024, with the original cast, sitting in the second row, thanks to my amazing friend Auntie Jaime. Talk about an experience of a lifetime!
From the moment the lights dimmed, I knew I was about to witness something special. I consider SUFFS a “female Hamilton.” Shaina Taub not only wrote the book, the lyrics, and the score, but also starred as Alice Paul, just as Lin-Manuel Miranda did for Hamilton. And, like Miranda, she won Tony Awards for best book and score. But SUFFS goes even further in breaking boundaries—its cast is entirely female, where females play all the roles including the roles of men.
A Performance for the History Books—Literally
To our complete surprise, the performance we attended was being recorded for PBS! We even got to meet the show’s incredible director, Leigh Silverman, who spoke to the audience before the curtain rose. She reminded us that history was being made that day, that this story would be preserved for generations to come. She encouraged us to clap loudly, to laugh at all the right places—to help bring the energy of a live audience to the recording. It was an honor to be part of something so significant. If you think all Broadway musicals are filmed, think again—most are not. The fact that SUFFS was chosen to be immortalized in this way speaks to its importance. And I’m writing this article because I want my mother to know I was here. I want my students to know I was here. I want my great-granddaughter to know I was here! (If you listen to the music from SUFFS you’ll know I’m quoting a few lyrics here)
The Story That History Books Leave Out
Despite knowing how it all ends, I have the right to vote, after alI, I had no idea just how brutal and drawn-out the fight was. SUFFS brings to life not only Alice Paul’s fierce leadership but also the internal conflicts within the movement. The old-guard National American Woman Suffrage Association, led by Carrie Chapman Catt, took a more conservative approach, while Alice Paul and the National Woman’s Party fought aggressively, staging hunger strikes and picketing the White House.
But the most eye-opening part? The struggles of African American suffragists like Ida B. Wells and Mary Church Terrell. The musical doesn’t shy away from showing how racism tainted the movement—how Black women were told to march in the back of the parade so as not to upset Southern white suffragists. And yet, they refused to be silenced. Their determination in the face of opposition from all sides makes their story even more powerful and necessary to tell.
The Music That Moves You
The score of SUFFS is nothing short of brilliant. Taub masterfully weaves in period-appropriate musical influences while crafting lyrics that cut straight to the heart. I’ve listened to the cast recording countless times since seeing the show, with the song lyrics looping in my head. These songs don’t just tell history—they ignited something in me, a call to action.
Here’s a glimpse of the powerful lyrics from The March (We Demand Equality)
“We demand to be heard.
We demand to be seen.
We demand equality and nothing in between.
We demand to be heard.
We demand to be known.
We demand a voice of our own.”
And the show’s final number, Keep Marching, left me breathless. Alice Paul never stopped fighting—not after winning the vote, not ever. The song’s message is clear:
“You’ll rarely agree with whoever’s in charge
Keep marching, keep marching
‘Cause your ancestors are all the proof you need
That progress is possible, not guaranteed
It will only be made if we keep marching, keep marching on.”
An Experience I’ll Never Forget
I walked out of the Music Box Theater feeling electrified, as if I had been handed a torch to carry forward. SUFFS didn’t just entertain me—it educated me, challenged me, and made me want to dig deeper into the stories of the women who came before me.
And that’s exactly what I did! More on that in another post.
For now, let’s celebrate Women’s History Month by remembering the women who fought, struggled, and sacrificed, to get us where we are today. And let’s take a cue from SUFFS—we must keep marching. There is still a lot of work to be done.
Epilogue
Suffs opened on Broadway on April 18, 2024, at the Music Box Theatre, where it received mostly positive reviews from critics. It was nominated for six Tony Awards, including Best Musical, winning two, for Best Music and Best Score. It closed on January 5, 2025, far too soon in my opinion! A national tour kicks off in September 2025 in Seattle, WA.
I was never a doll person. While other little girls were happily brushing Barbie’s hair, I was racing Hot Wheels cars across the kitchen floor and reenacting epic battles with my Star Wars action figures. It wasn’t that I actively rejected dolls—I just never felt drawn to them. What fascinated me were the sleek designs of Matchbox cars, the intricate details and the thrilling adventures I could create with my plastic heroes.
But growing up in the late 70’s/early 80’s, toy aisles were strictly divided. There was no mistaking the boy section from the girl section. The boy aisle had the cool stuff—cars, action figures, spaceships, adventure sets—while the girl aisle was a sea of pink, filled with dolls, play kitchens, and frilly accessories. I didn’t fit neatly into the mold of what a little girl was “supposed” to like, and that realization hit me hard at my friend Ryan’s seventh birthday party.
At the end of the party, all the boys were given a shiny new Hot Wheels car as a party favor, while the girls received small dolls. I remember clutching that doll in my hand, my stomach sinking. I wanted the car. Why couldn’t I have the car? But I was a shy kid, too afraid to speak up, too afraid to say, “Hey, I like those better.” So I went home with a toy that felt foreign in my hands, a reminder that I was somehow different, even if I couldn’t quite understand why.
A few of my Hot Wheels cars.
I tried to push down that feeling of isolation, but it followed me. When I saved up my money to buy a Star Wars action figure; one I had been dreaming about. I was both excited and anxious. My parents encouraged independence, so they told me that if I wanted it, I had to buy it myself. That meant walking up to the cashier, speaking to an unfamiliar adult, and completing the transaction on my own. For a child with anxiety and an intense fear of talking to strangers, this was a monumental task.
With my heart pounding, I placed my prized Empire Strikes Back action figure on the counter, ready to claim what was mine. But instead of a simple exchange, I was met with a condescending, puzzled expression from the cashier.
“Why are you buying a toy made for a boy?”
The words stung. My excitement deflated instantly, replaced with shame. I didn’t know how to respond. Was I doing something wrong? Was I weird? The comment burrowed into my mind, reinforcing a growing sense that my interests were somehow unacceptable. I mumbled something, took my action figure, and hurried out of the store. But that interaction stayed with me.
I was lucky, my parents and grandparents never made me feel like I had to play with dolls. Sure, they tried buying them for me at first, but when they saw my enthusiasm for toy cars and Star Wars, they embraced it. They bought me Hot Wheels and action figures, and I built up an impressive collection, carefully stored in a Darth Vader-shaped carrying case. I still have them today, and they remain some of my most treasured childhood possessions.
My childhood Star Wars toys. The Darth Vader head is filled with action figures.
Looking back now, 43 years later, I’m relieved to see the toy industry making strides toward breaking down gender stereotypes. More parents are open to their sons playing with dolls and their daughters playing with cars. It’s heartening to see kids being given the freedom to explore what they truly enjoy, rather than being pushed into predetermined boxes.
But we still have a long way to go.
Every time I travel for work, I pass by a toy store in my local airport, and that old feeling creeps up again. Why? Because despite all the progress, there is still an unmistakable divide. One wall, boldly labeled BOYS, lined with miniature Hot Wheels cars. The opposite wall, labeled GIRLS, stocked with Barbies in every shade of pink.
Seen in an airport in March 2025!
Maybe things haven’t changed as much as I’d hoped!
I’m grateful for the progress, but I’m also reminded of how deeply ingrained these stereotypes still are. And I think of all the kids today who might feel the same way I did—shy, uncertain, wondering why they don’t fit the mold. I hope, as time goes on, we continue to challenge these outdated ideas and let kids be exactly who they are. Because no child should ever feel like they’re wrong for loving the things that make them happy.
Noteworthy Mommy 