After fifty-three years, I believe I’m finally ready to get up on a stage and play the Wizard in The Wizard of Oz. When I performed the role in seventh grade, I developed severe stage fright. My voice, which was supposed to roar from behind a curtained booth, stuttered and whimpered instead, barely audible.

Saturday night I went to see Liberace & Liza, A Tribute at the Depot Theater in Duluth. David Saffert and Jillian Snow, two excellent entertainers, became Liberace and Liza for the evening. The show was a wonderful ninety-minute escape into a bygone era from my youth. My sisters and I grew up watching TV variety shows starring Liberace, Dean Martin, Carol Burnett, Sonny & Cher, and Flip Wilson.

Near the end of their act, Liberace and Liza performed a skit called “Liberace OR Liza.” They explained they would read scenarios, and two volunteers from the audience would take turns guessing if the statement was about Liberace or Liza. However, when they asked for two volunteers to come up on stage, the audience went silent. Finally, Liberace and Liza encouraged a young man from the second row to join them. The man, named Kevin, wore a black T-shirt and a pair of gold sequined pants. I had seen him forty minutes before the show started. I had admired his outfit, figuring it was a nod to Liberace and Liza, who both loved sequins. But I had also wondered if he would be part of the show.

No one else raised a hand.

I waited. I mulled it over: a chance to perform with Liberace and Liza, who kept pleading for a second volunteer. All I would have to do was smile big and answer questions in a cheerful, audible voice. I thought some more. I had a chance to be part of a variety show, even if it wasn’t televised. I could smile big and have some fun. After all, I reasoned, the real Liberace was a hometown boy from Milwaukee, so I should help him and Liza. I, too, was born in Milwaukee, and lived there until I was five, when we moved to Franklin, which is still in Milwaukee County.

I stuck my hand high in the air and volunteered.

I was sitting near the back of the theater, so I had a long walk to the stage. Pushing aside the memory of my seventh-grade acting failure, I strode forward, feeling confident and fearless — I became Quiz-Show Contestant on her way to win jubilantly or lose gracefully.

When my sisters and I watched the real Liberace on TV, he performed in flashy colorful sequined outfits. His fingers, festooned with diamond-and-gold jewelry, flew up and down the keys on a golden piano that sparkled with mirrors and rhinestones. The combination of his fast-paced piano playing and his never-ending glitz mesmerized us. If he had played a plain piano while wearing a black tuxedo and using bare fingers, my sisters and I would never have noticed him, even if he had kept the same frenetic playing style. Liberace was an excellent showman who understood how to sell an image.

Before I went to the tribute show, I looked up Liberace and learned that from the 1950s to the 1970s, he was the highest paid performer in the world. I also learned that serious music critics panned his piano-playing skills, to which he responded, “I’m crying — all the way to the bank.”

Once on the stage, Liberace and Liza explained the rules of the quiz to Kevin and me. I smiled. I had no sense of dread or wishing they would get on with it, so I could go back to my seat. I was having fun. Liberace wore a sequined red-white-and-blue, stars-and-stripes themed jacket with long red fringe dangling from its sleeves; a pair of matching sequined hot pants; red-white-and-blue knee highs; and sparkling shoes. Liza wore a red-sequined top and pants, loosely covered by a flowing, floor-length black gauzy garment. Under the stage lights, the gold sequins on Kevin’s pants lit up like fireflies. I wore mostly black, sans sequins. My only bling was a pair of subdued silver earrings and two small rings.

Kevin’s personality matched the sparkle of his pants, and he embraced his role. I didn’t try to upstage him. I became the calm, composed character next to Kevin’s funny-guy schtick. I smiled, made a few restrained theatrical gestures, and answered three questions, earning one point. Using grand theatrical gestures and hammy facial expressions, Kevin answered all three of his questions correctly, so he won the big prize. I received a consolation prize, a very cool Liberace & Liza tribute sticker. Liberace and Liza shook hands with me and thanked me. I shook Kevin’s hand and congratulated him. I had become Quiz-Show Contestant Losing Gracefully. But I smiled because I was triumphant in defeat — not once did I experience stage fright, and I had a great time. I even wished there had been someone to take a picture of me up on the stage.

Liberace took my hand and escorted me off the stage. For a moment, as I made my way back to my seat, I wished that I could have felt fearless and confident in seventh grade while playing the Wizard. But my self-assured debut with Liberace and Liza made up for my seventh-grade acting debacle.

Kevin’s big prize was to be serenaded by Liza while he sat on a stool upon the stage. He embraced this with delightfully comic acting, even singing along with Liza near the end of the song. And, although he sang off key and seemed unsure of the words to the song, something about Kevin and Liza’s bit made me think he may have been a plant in the audience. I had even thought about this when he was encouraged to volunteer. On the one hand, Liberace’s and Liza’s interactions with Kevin seemed so spontaneous, but on the other hand, could they really leave finding the perfect contestant to chance? One who would be able to ham it up with Liza as she sang to him? Even Kevin’s outfit made two arguments. Had he dressed to be part of the act or had he just been an enthusiastic audience member? Either way, his glittering gold pants sure looked good on stage, making him the perfect accessory to Liberace and Liza.

The intrigue around Kevin’s role made it even more fun for me. I know someone I could ask, who would probably tell me if Kevin was a plant or not, but I don’t want to spoil the magic and mystery of the moment. Besides, Kevin was perfect up there. I would not have been as entertaining if Liza had had to sing her heart out to me.

Liberace, Liza, and Kevin didn’t realize it, but I did win the bigger prize. I had zero stage fright, and I didn’t worry if I was going to look silly. Something else that Liberace and Liza didn’t know, but the warmth and good humor they had exuded throughout their show, let me know I would be in kind hands if I went up on the stage

Wisdom doesn’t belong to seventh graders playing the Wizard. But thankfully, I have gained some as I have aged: Smile big, have some fun, and don’t be afraid to be silly. That’s what I did. And that’s what Liberace, Liza, and Kevin did.