My Real Memoir
Fall and winter of my senior year had turned out just the way I’d planned. But spring took an unexpectedly dark turn.
First, our lovably nebbish Choir instructor Mr. Brock developed a bad case of the hiccups. Which seemed simply funny at first. But after several weeks, he had to take a leave of absence. As a Christian Scientist, we learned, he considered illness an illusion he could overcome through spiritual mind control. Even on his death bed, when his wife begged him to renege, he refused any form of intervention.
And so the illusion won.
Next, Dark of the Moon, our final play of the year, was cancelled, we were told, because our Drama teacher Mr. Baker needed time off due to “exhaustion.” But the real reason almost certainly had to do with a carefully muted controversy. My friend Joe had been cast in the role of a brute who rapes a girl in order to break her marital bond with a “witch boy”—and that after the superstitious townspeople have murdered her “evil” baby. Joe, whose family were Jehovah’s Witnesses, had quit abruptly, and I have no doubt concerned parents completed the shut-down. As John the Witch Boy, the murdered baby’s father, it was supposed to have been my ultimate high school performance.
On the other hand, I was in love, and the prom was a magical capstone. Martha and I even danced to one of my songs! The jazz trio, headed by Bill Foster, a gifted pianist I secretly idolized as a “real musician,” had adapted my Daily Planet tune “Until You Tell Me.” Bill stunned me when he told the audience he wished he could write songs “like that!”
The Daily Planet had a growing fan base! After one gig at a country club, we were hounded for autographs and chased by screaming girls as we left the parking lot (true, we were in my dad’s truck, but eventually it would be a limo)! Planet-o-mania had begun! And then, to cap it off, we were notified we’d been named “Best New Music Group in the Western U.S.” and chosen to appear on an ABC music special with Aretha freakin’ Franklin! We had arrived. We could do anything!
After an all-night party, the four of us sat on the roof of my house watching the sun come up, not just on our little middleclass suburb, but on our future! We had a lock on fame. First, we’d become rock stars. And then we’d become movie stars.
I had it all mapped out.
More than fame, I think, I longed for permanence, for a place, a name, a love no one could ever take away from me. But the future refused to follow the map I’d made for it. Maybe it’s not disease, but permanence…
That is the real illusion.
My Real Memoir is a series. To read the next one, click here.
Undeniably, I was a fan of The Daily Planet…and of Joe Pino for a while. 😂 My map took me a totally different direction too, of course…It was a good thing! A GOD thing!! 🙌🏻✝️♥️😊
Exactly, Dori!
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Great story, Mitch! I recently heard a guy speak about wanting to be a famous guitar player, a rock and roll hero and he had some success at it, but he often beat himself up for not working hard enough or being dedicated enough. Finally, when he turned 35 he realized that wasn’t the problem at all! The problem was, he didn’t really even like his guitar! It was never music, fame, fortune, or screaming girls he was looking for, but rather home, that sense of belonging, of safety, of having a stable place in the world.
Great feedback, Gabrielle. (I love my guitars, btw ;>).
Ugh…playing the illusion in the game of life is like playing chess against the computer. On the bright side, one learns a lot.
I was the opposite. No map. Our college band at our last concert was offered a record deal. 4 out of the 5 of us laughed and said “NO” as we were disbanding to get on with life. I still love my keyboard. The odd guy is still mad at us today.
I do marvel at the roads you have traveled Mitch, making you who you are today.
Thanks, Gary, and great to hear a bit of your own story too.
You’ve certainly had an interesting life.
That sounds like a terrible play, but it’s too bad your dramatic triumph was circumvented. I think the universe just laughs when we try to make plans
I must say, you were a young man with many talents, Now you’re a mature man who used the gifts God has blessed you with to multiply and supercharge your talents.
Thank you, Nancy.
Great story! Rock on, Mitch.
Thanks, Russell!
Illusions. Mitch, I’m always so happy when I visit you. I will look forward to reading your Memoir. Your life is fascinating. Illusion brought death in one instant. As I sit here, with my life so strange around me, surreal, I’m “penning” a bit of a memoir too. It stirs in my mind and I have some on paper. The “illusion” that I’d be married still, doing the things I dreamed of so many years ago, my grandkids near me,…definitely not this cancer. Aw, illusions. I appreciate you, dear friend. I miss it when I’m not here. Thank you for being YOU!
Likewise, dear friend. Onward to the beautiful, unpredictable future!
Thank you, Mitch! The unknown is kinda fun!
I too marvel at the twists and turns of your life, Mitch. God must certainly have had fun mapping out the days he ordained for you, before even one of them came to be (Psalm 139:16)!
;>)
What’s that old saying, “When we make plans, God laughs?” It’s something like that. Anyway, I agree that it’s very hard to map out our future and not just because there are so many variables we can’t control. The bigger issue is that, unlike you, we don’t often figure out what it is we truly want out of life. I used to be drawn to the picturesque little brick houses in the city where I lived…it was an almost physical longing to have one. It took me years to realize what I really longed for was the security those houses represented!
I completely understand, Ann, but better late than never, right?
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