Of Musicals and Melissa Gilbert ...

Her signature gleams in black ink on a corner of my tattered program for "Little House on the Prairie," the musical I saw Sunday night at the Guthrie Theater in Minneapolis. Underneath the nearly illegible "Melissa Gilbert" is "Ma" in quotes.

It didn't seem odd at all to see Ms. Gilbert playing "Ma" instead of her signature "Laura" in the show. In fact, it seemed just right, as if time had provided her--and the audience--an opportunity to see her original character becoming a mother who dealt with a child, her "Wild Child," just like herself.

The day began Sunday with rain. Lots of it. The kind of rain that seeps into every pour and turns driving down the freeway into a nightmare of poor visibility. As I headed up to the Twin Cities, I boogied to the "Mamma Mia" soundtrack and reflected about the twisty road I'd traveled through my interest in all things "Little House." My interest started as a five-year-old girl who started reading her first "big" book--"Little House in the Big Woods"--in the living room of Laura's cousin, Ruby. Ruby, a friend of my grandmothers, baked wonderful cookies and always had time for little girls.

I don't remember when I started watching the television show, but I do remember the momentous occasion when my parents let me stay up to watch the episode where the school of the blind burns down.

And my sister and sister-cousins played "Little House" all the time when we were small. I was always Mary, because not only was I the oldest; I was blonde. My cousin Nic had the honor of being Laura because she was a brunette, and she was the second oldest. I think we mostly argued about how we were going to pay more than we actually played, but we had fun, anyway.

Throughout my life, I've added to this trove of memories, taking my first adult road trip to Laura's birthplace in Pepin, Wis., and to one of her Minnesota home sites in Walnut Grove, Minn.; tracing out Caroline's first home in Milwaukee, Wis., and finding her mother's grave in Rome, Wis.; finally taking the long-dreamed-of trip to De Smet, S.D., with my ever-patient spouse just three summers ago; publishing my own book about the Ingalls-Wilder-Lane legacy (The Rediscovered Writings of Rose Wilder Lane, Literary Journalist); and meeting many more friends and fans online to feel the same way I do about the program, the women, and legacy that has become labeled "Little House."

On my way to a new adventure at the Guthrie last night, I could barely contain myself. In just a few short hours, I would see the very newest offering in this LH legacy: a musical scripted by a fan who took on the unenviable task of bringing together multiple visions of a story that at its core remains a story of family cohesion in the face of adversity. In this task, the show exceeded my expectations.

And the music was phenomenal.

So when we were told that many of the cast, including Ms. Gilbert, exit at the stage door after each show to sign autographs, on request, my friends (also huge Laura fans) and I took the opportunity. Several people were crowded around that door, blocking the Guthrie's front exit, and cheered as the actresses playing Carrie and other town players left, followed by "Almanzo" (a seriously cute, talented actor!), and Ms. Gilbert herself, who was tired and anxious about the crowd, but gracious in signing programs and memorabilia for fans, who began to drift off as she made her way down the sort-of line that had drawn itself up. Finally, Kara Lindsay, who turned in a remarkable performance as Laura, emerged, and the same bubbly spirit that characterized her performance made her a laughing, gracious and grateful presence. She, too, signed my program--in red.

So what I have now is a document that immortalizes the passing of a torch, in a way. The "old" Laura, and the "new" one. But both represent a living remembrance of a woman, and a legacy, that we now call "Little House."