Igniting Self-Discovery

The Sky's the Limit By: Carol Edgar '72 At Baylor, and at all universities of course, traditions wax and wane. As alumna not only of the school but also of All-University Sing, I'm delighted that Sing is still - shall we say - humming along. If you've seen the museum-like exhibit celebrating 50 years of Sing, you may recall the dramatically enlarged photography symbolizing Sing in the '60s. That's me, front and center, dancing and singing my heart out as a sophomore pledge in the Pigskin production, "The Sky's the Limit," which won first-place honors the previous spring for Alpha Omega, now Pi Beta Phi. The year was 1969.

Carol Edgar and her daughter Alison

Like many co-eds of the ear, I entered Baylor a good student but essentially intent on majoring in extra-curricular activities. Seeing "The Sky's the Limit"- an exuberant celebration of unlimited possibilities, with the performers dressed as flight attendants and a huger airplane backdrop enhancing the metaphor - was probably the deciding factor in my decision to pledge the following fall.

What I would learn as an active participant in Sing and Pigskin productions would, in my post-Baylor life, serve me as well as any academic experience I had at Baylor. Other Sing alums, equally well along in adulthood, have echoed this conviction.

My peak experience with Sing came during my junior year. That fall I'd discovered an enchanting new children's program on public television, called "Sesame Street." Convinced that the program would provide excellent musical material and thematic inspiration, I prepared a presentation for our weekly meeting, played recorded music from the program and detailing my concept, which went up against several other proposals. "Sesame Street" won the day. What I realized time and again much later was that that very process - presenting an idea and advocating for it in a group setting - is an enormously important life skill. It was the first of dozens, if not hundreds, of presentations I've made in more than 30 years that have passed since the fall of 1971.

Then, of course, came the production itself. While others capably handled logistics, the budget, costumes and the set, I focused on shaping the script and the music, and on direction and choreography. Although I could sing before I could talk and staged countless backyard musicals as a child, I came from a time and place that frowned on show business as a profession. Now, at Baylor, I was about to fulfill a dream on the stage of Waco Hall, with a cast of dozens and an audience of thousands.

Translating a dream into reality took hard work and discipline, and resourcefulness too. Only a closet dancer, I consulted a Dallas choreographer about my concepts for staging the show. Her guidance boosted my confidence. The talented Eddie Lunn, Jr., a student already renowned for his gospel compositions, helped arrange the music - including a lush section of six-part acapella harmony.

We rehearsed tirelessly, and I directed and encouraged and, of course, worried. But those around me flanked me. Friendships grew stronger and spirits soared. The night before we went onstage, one of our group, Nancy George Doss ('72) put a large hand-made sign on my pillow that quoted Charlie Brown of "Peanuts" fame: "There's no heavier burden that a great potential." I still have that sign, pasted into a scrapbook, and its words continue to inspire me.

Our "Sesame Street" production was as colorful and vibrant as I hoped, and we were ecstatic to place second behind a KWT production said at the time to be the strongest men's Sing entry ever.

About a year later I took the gavel as AW president, with a strong involvement in Sing. Our production flopped, not even making the Pigskin cut. (Years later, living in New York with Broadway producers as friends, I saw a parallel: you never really know whether you've got a winner until it's tested onstage.) One last Sing opportunity came along when the combined men's and women's music clubs asked me o choreography their very modest - but beautifully sung - adaptation of "Bye, Bye Birdie." I had a ball.

All that was long, long ago, of course. But the lessons I drew from Sing have served me throughout the years that followed. It's hard to list them all, but a pleasure to try.

I learned to take seriously my own ideas, intuitions and abilities, even if they were undeveloped or unrefined. I began to know and trust my own mind, my own judgment. I learned not to be timid about trying something new, such as making up dances and teaching them to others.

I learned about collaboration - cooperating with colleagues and embracing the contributions of others. Above all, I think, I learned much about leadership - as much as I did at leadership labs I attended and led while at Baylor. Sing was the first experience that taught me that discipline, humility, organization and optimism are crucial in helping a group to turn an idea into a winning result.

I've used these lessons in countless ways; producing television programs, editing a magazine, making presentations with a large New York ad agency to win new accounts, scripting press conferences, organizing a parade in Dallas, and in staging all manner of events - from a media tour of Bosnia to heading a huge volunteer-produced dinner at my daughter's school to my very own wedding celebration at a posh private club in New York. What it took to do all this and more all goes back to Baylor and All-University Sing, under the watchful eyes of Marie Mathis and Reuben Santos, with mellifluous stage continuity provided along with a few winks by the inimitable Gorge Stokes.

For me, and for so many others who've taken the challenge of All-University Sing over the past 50 years, those words from my first outing onstage rink true, even today: the sky is the limit.

Carol Edgar, '72, works in media and public affairs, primarily for international non-profit organizations. She and her husband divide their time between San Francisco and New York. It seems no accident that Carol's daughter, Alison, directed both her junior and senior class productions of a similar version of Sing while a student at New York City's Stuyvesant High School.