It's Tony nomination time and I always feel a bit like a kid at Christmas as I wait to find out which shows will receive recognition, which ones will establish themselves as historical pieces of art, which will be also-rans, and which will be "egregiously overlooked." The Tony awards used to be an enormous deal for me, a chance to sit down for three hours and see the faces that made Broadway. How completely did I revel in the scenes from plays such as Lettice and Lovage with Maggie Smith or Fences with James Earl Jones? The myriad musical numbers that I committed to memory and then replicated to the best of my ability in our basement. I can even remember such moving speeches as Michael Jeter accepting for Grand Hotel or Andrea Martin hilariously making the most of her time to talk, winning for My Favorite Year.