Tuesday, September 3, 2013

Center of Attention? Yes, please, I mean no,...actually, I'm not sure.

When’s the last time you had the hiccups? I can’t remember when I did, but it’s been a long time. With the hiccups you got to be the center of attention for a little while, with people telling you how to get rid of them, comparing memories of remedies tried, trying to make you laugh, scaring you, or almost choking you with sips of water while you held your nose, or other things like that.

Being the center of attention is not something I necessarily want these days, in fact, I am not sure I have ever wanted it, at least while I was getting it; but after I have had it, I have found myself fondly remembering the feeling.

My freshman year in high school I sang a song behind the stage curtain as part of a school production, while on stage there was a life nativity scene. The song – I think it was called the Magnificat or something like that- went this way: Chorus “As the rain rushes down and the earth blossoms forth and the wind caresses every tree. You can hear the turtle dove singing all throughout the land of the fair young Virgin Mary.” Bridge: “My heart sings out, with praise of my Lord, my soul rejoices in Christ my savior, for he has looked upon his servant tenderly, humble as he is…Chorus: “As the rain rushes down…” same as before. It had a lovely tune.

I bring that up because after I had sung the song, Mr. Stamper called the principals office on behalf of some girls in his class who wanted me to come down to his home-room- we had all gone back to our home room after assembly- so they could talk to me. When I walked into the room, several of the girls swooned in unison, something like: “Aaaaahh…” I can’t really remember exactly what it sounded like, but I have never been so afraid in my life. I had no idea how to react. I could not hold my head up and there was no way I could look at any of them. Pretty soon Mr. Stamper saw how uncomfortable I was and allowed me to leave the room and head back to my own home room, where my face could return to its normal color.

Since then I have often remembered that day as a missed opportunity. I frittered away whatever popularity I had gained by coming across as uncomfortable and too shy to even talk to anyone. I remember being afraid that some of the girls would learn that I lived in a house trailer on a muddy hillside or that my daddy was a religious fanatic. But if I am to be honest, I must admit that even then, I absolutely loved the attention, it’s just that I had no way of dealing with it.

Even in high school after I started singing all the time, in plays, with a group, solos at choral performances or at weddings; I never knew exactly how to react when someone said I sang well. Once as I was driving a girl home from a date, she asked me to sing for her and it made me so nervous I snapped at her and said: “I don’t ask you to play your saxophone when we are in the car, do I?” She wondered why I was so upset and I said something to the effect that I wanted us to talk about important stuff, not have me perform for her. She got out of the car and needless to say, there was no kiss involved. I drove back home thinking what an idiot I was and I still think what a stupid thing that was to do.

I don’t think there has ever been a time when I did not crave attention but at the same time, I don’t think there has ever been a time when I knew how to handle it. It’s like I sit and pine over the fact that other people are getting the recognition and then when I get some, I have no idea how to accept it without being awkward.

It was ironic that when I played the role of Tony Kirby in the play: “You can’t take it with you”, since the girl who had asked me to sing on the date, played the role of Alice Sycamore, my fiancee, and who in the play, was afraid for me to meet her family because they were so eccentric. Her grandfather did not pay his income tax because he did not believe in it; an uncle who lived with them made fireworks in the basement and played with erector sets. Meanwhile, my character Tony’s father was a proper society man and made Alice feel ill at ease. The shoe was on the other foot in real life, where I was the one who felt like a social outcast.

For twenty five years now I have taught at a university and I have no problem talking in front of classes and even hamming it up at times, trying to be entertaining or at least interesting, but after all these years, when the setting is informal - say I am telling a story for a roomful of friends or family- I get tongue tied and begin to feel like a shy little kid again, which throws off my timing, makes me forget key parts of the story and generally would make it appear I would never be able to stand in front of a college classroom and make sense of anything.


I was happy to see someone had posted on Facebook the other day about how they could write excellent fiction or works of literature, but became tongue tied when trying to string together more than a few sentences for friends and family. I suspect this difficulty has something to do with communication between brain hemispheres, but I would not know that for certain. I do know it is likely I will still be dealing with this when I am blowing out the candles on my 100-birthday cake.

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