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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