Even when she’s in the audience cheering on her fellow performers, Renee Matthews looks as if she just might break into song. Run into her in the lobby, and she’s all sparkle and smiles. Meet her for coffee, and she gives you a hearty hug–her spunky comedic voice projecting over the churning espresso machines.

"I’m getting more work at this stage in my life," says Matthews. "I’m a wife, a mother, a grandmother and a mother-in-law. And I’m so grateful. Every day is a gift."

The blonde and blue-eyed actor/vocalist, who refers to her age as "not quite a senior citizen," has been lighting up the stage since she was a child. Over the past few years, she has been working steadily and successfully having crossed over into non-musical theatre.

She enjoyed a plum role as one of two proverb-spouting Jewish grandmothers in Northlight’s production of Bubbe Meises (that enjoyed an extended run at the Theatre Building). Shortly after, Matthews landed an array of comedic and bittersweet parts in Northlight’s A Lovely Sunday for Creve Coeur; Marriott’s Lincolnshire’s Queen of the Stardust Ballroom; Goodman’s A Christmas Carol; Next’s Stonewall Jackson’s House; Organic’s The Food Chain; and Over the River and Through the Woods this summer at Peninsula Players in Door County, WI. And with vivacious innocence, she portrays Abby Brewster, the delusionally merciful procurer of elderberry wine, in Drury Lane Oak Brook Theatre’s Arsenic and Old Lace, running through Oct. 1.

Matthews will make her third appearance as the sprightly Mrs. Fezziwig in Goodman’s A Christmas Carol this holiday season. And, the optimistic pragmatist that she is, the actor doesn’t look too far into the future. "After Christmas Carol, nobody may call me for two years!" she says with a contagious laugh.

That’s highly unlikely, considering her extraordinary track record and versatility. Matthews, ever attuned to changing theatrical climates, has maintained a steady gig. For the past five years, she’s been touring the country with Sarah Blacher Cohen’s two-character musical, Molly Picon’s Return Engagement. It’s based on the tumultuous and triumphant life of the titular Yiddish theatre star of the 1920s and 1930s who enjoyed a Broadway and film career well into her 80s. Matthews stars opposite pianist-actor Gerald H. Bailey as Picon’s Svengali-esque husband-manager. The show has been a hit at fundraisers and various corporate-community events coast to coast.

In the midst of her mile-a-minute exuberance, Matthews proudly shows me a clipping from a local daily. Just below a photograph of a fresh-faced little girl in a frilly embroidered dress, the caption reads: "Diminutive Torch Singer: Renee Matthews, 6, of 7001 Clyde Ave., lays 'em in the aisles with a hot number at the Chicago Theatre. You’ll hear more of this lady some day."

Matthews–who proclaims, "I’m over 55 and having a ball"–beams as she explains how the precocious child in the photo sang and danced in six shows a day for a holiday revue that featured a 90-piece orchestra. She got to sing a solo as one of the toy dolls that springs to life from Santa’s bag. What earned her the moniker of "diminutive torch singer?" Perhaps the name of that "hot number"–Swingin’ Baby, That’s My Name.

A Chicago native who grew up on the South Shore and graduated from Hyde Park High School, Matthews–an only child–credits her parents with properly training her as a theatre artist and supporting her dreams "150 percent."

"Both my parents were show people," she says. "My mother was a concert pianist. She was my accompanist. My father was a cantor and an opera singer. In fact, my father was hailed as 'the Yiddish Caruso’ when he sang at the 1933 World’s Fair."

She studied voice at the Metropolitan Opera and graduated with a degree in theatre from DePaul University. Her many years of dance lessons paid off, notes Matthews, "102 years later, when I was cast in Queen of the Stardust Ballroom."

But despite an all-consuming love of show business, the multi-talented performer did not allow theatre to consume her life. She and her husband Sheldon, a medical social worker, raised two sons. And Matthews approached motherhood with as much oomph and verve as her stage career.

"I never felt I could give myself permission to be away six nights a week from Shel and my sons," she acknowledges.

So instead of auditioning for musicals and plays, Matthews developed a song-heavy one-woman show, which she performed for corporations, non-profit organizations, temples and churches throughout the Midwest. She might have had between 30 and 50 club dates in less than six months. But at least Matthews built flexibility into her schedule so she could be with her family.

In between her many endeavors in the limelight, the energetic entertainer managed to master the harp and perform on a professional level. She also plays the piano. When Matthews met her husband, she learned that he had taken harp lessons at the same studio in Chicago where she studied. "So we ended up with a marriage and two harps," she quips.

Then she grows reflective for a moment. "You’ve got to have a life outside the theatre," said Matthews. "You cannot make this your whole being because the disappointment and rejection are monumental. Remember this: Your reputation as a person will follow you more than your reputation as an actor."

While she was raising her children, Matthews and her husband rarely took vacations. They also were caregivers to their parents. When asked to share her thoughts on some of the sacrifices she’s made, the actor replies with a shrug, "No one tells you not to do it. So you do it."

Twenty years ago, Matthews felt it was time to return to theatre. Apart from stints in Showboat and Oliver! at Milwaukee’s Melody Top Theatre, she had focused mainly on touring her one-woman show. After auditioning around town, she got cast in Follies at Candlelight Dinner Playhouse. But two days before the show opened, her father was killed in an automobile accident. Her husband also was recovering from a serious illness. But after speaking with her rabbi, Matthews decided that the show must go on.

Once again, she forged ahead and subscribed to the maxim, "Nobody said you can’t do it. So you do it."

Her life has essentially consisted of "constant concertizing"–from conventions to private parties to stages of all shapes and sizes.

"When you’re doing live club dates," the actor-singer expounds, "there are things you simply can’t control–the sound, the lighting, the caterer. It’s so unpredictable. I’ve walked into rooms that had no piano or, if they had a piano, it had no pedals. But this forced me to learn my craft like the old vaudevillians. Those little setbacks make you stronger."

Matthews laments the demise of Candlelight, where she made her comeback in middle age. She performed in Bye, Bye Birdie and Rags there. Then she starred in Grovers Corners; 70, Girls, 70; Me and My Girl; and as Miss Lynch in Grease at Marriott’s Lincolnshire. She has performed in My Fair Lady at Drury Oak Brook, Fate at National Jewish Theatre, Nunsense at Drury Lane Evergreen Park, and Ruthless! at Candlelight Forum Theatre.

But for all her musical-theatre successes, Matthews was bothered by certain industry perceptions that prevented her from tackling straight dramas or comedies.

"I do want to say this, and this is important," she emphasizes by slapping her hand down on the table. "You somehow get pigeonholed into an image you can’t get out of. For years I didn’t throw my hat into non-musical theatre because most directors don’t take you seriously if you’ve spent your career in musical theatre. But musical theatre is a very serious art form.

"After a while, I started to forget the fact that I received classical theatre training at DePaul. I’ve done Shakespeare. I played Mary, Queen of Scots my senior year at DePaul. Why did I think I couldn’t do this? I then started to pursue non-musical theatre roles."

Lately, Matthews has been enjoying yet another career. She made an evocative impression as a tourist engaged in a disturbing racial tug-of-war in the highly controversial Stonewall Jackson’s House at Next Theatre last season. "It evoked dialogue," says Matthews of the play. "It rubbed some people the wrong way, and it rubbed some people the right way. But, damn it, they talked about it!"

As Abby Brewster, she has tapped into her quirky comedic sensibilities. How does she bridge the gap between the blissful absurdity and morbid humor of Arsenic and Old Lace?

"You can’t play this role for the laughs," advises Matthews. "You have to be a real person. You have to believe in your character no matter how kooky she is. With Abby, I have to be dead serious–otherwise the comedy doesn’t work."

Matthews, who also has commercial and film credits, can’t contain her excitement when talking about her recent experiences performing as an Italian-American grandmother in Over the River and Through the Woods at Peninsula Players for the first time.

"This summer, I finally went to camp!" she shouts. "To be housed, fed and able to watch the sunset on the lake. It was such a marvelous experience. And you shop 'til you drop there."

While she admits that she is in an age group for whom starring roles are fading, Matthews wants to let directors know that–contrary to popular opinion–more mature actors have a mega energy supply. Just watch Matthews zoom over to her car and take off in a split second to crush any pre-conceived notions about the senior set.

"I’m fortunate that I’ve got the success and recognition now," she says, "when it’s more cherished. I’ve been on a roll. I don’t know if it’s the vibes in the air. But all I pray for is good health. Without that, all the fame, all the parts, all the notoriety don’t mean a damn thing. When you have your health and energy, the sky’s the limit.

"I find that a lot of young people try to burn the candle at 82 ends. Slow down. Take care of yourselves. What’s the rush?"

Matthews says she plans on "leaving enough scrapbooks for an army"–a legacy carried on from her ancestors. A gourmet cook, she still makes sure her family has plenty to eat and even finds time to babysit for her four grandchildren.

"I’ve spent most of my life just learning my lines in between shopping, cooking and babysitting," says Matthews. "I was looking for something the other day, and I came across this huge box of Pampers. Now that grounds you. You try to be a star, then you realize you have to change your baby’s diapers."

Is there a philosophy she lives by?

"I read an article about a professional dancer who was injured in an accident and couldn’t dance anymore," says Matthews. "She started a whole new career. And I’ll never forget her advice: 'It’s never too late to be what you might have been.’"

Since the sky’s always been the limit for this multifaceted performer, it comes as no surprise that she has already lined up some future career alternatives, like volunteering as a docent at a museum or singing and playing the piano for residents at a retirement home. Then Matthews leans forward and whispers to me one of her secret dreams.

"I’ve always wanted to be an archaeologist," she admits.

Then that boundless energy takes hold. And, at the top of her lungs, Matthews announces, "Could you imagine discovering a lost city? God! What could be more wonderful?!!"

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