"Five minutes, Miss Waters." Five minutes more to get ready to be Hagar and tell the story of my mother in front of the carriage trade. I asked God, "Oh, stay with me! Lord, keep Your hand on my shoulder! Please God!" Then I got up and started off on that terrifying last mile a performer has to walk every opening night. Into the wings, a pause there for a moment waiting for the cue--and then on, Ethel Waters, to glory or ... I was Hagar that night. Hagar and Momweeze and all of us. Seventeen curtain calls that opening night for me alone. I couldn't stand it. Half collapsing with joy and humility, I pushed through the kissing mouths and the slaps on the back to my dressing room where Elida was waiting. "How do you feel now, Miss Waters?" she said. "And what are you thinking?" "Elida, if I died here and now," I told her, "it would be all right. << less