“Most mimes are annoying. It's sort of like the Macarena on a smaller scale. A large number of people looking silly doing the same things over and over.” - Keith Irwin
It was there all along. A locked door that not even years of therapy could help me unlock. The hours and dollars spent on self-discovery could have easily been saved if I had just taken the time to go through the old pictures at mom and dad’s. I guess I had blocked it out.
I don’t ever remember consciously blocking it out and I really don’t think I had any bad experience that would cause me to do so but I did. I had forgotten that I was a proud member of The Mime Troupe at Spring Oaks Junior High. There I said it; I was a mime.
Or is it, “I am a mime”? What about the old chestnut “once a mime, always a mime”, I’m sure someone has said that once or twice somewhere. So yes, I’m a non-practicing mime. No, scratch that, I walked by someone’s cube yesterday and mimed the international “hang loose” sign with my hand holding it to my ear to silently signal someone to call me when they got off the phone. The success of my artistry was evidenced by the fact that said person did indeed call me when they got off of the phone.
So in my quest to define myself I’ve stumbled upon another piece of the puzzle. But what does being a childhood prodigy of mime say about me and why had I forgotten about it? Well, for one thing any of my friends reading this are finding it hard to believe that I was ever quiet long enough to get through a mime show but my tendency to be verbose is well documented so nothing new there.
It also dates me back to the days when mime was briefly king of the entertainment world. There was even a prime time show featuring mime on network television, The Shields and Yarnell Show. That was Must See TV around our house and I still remember cracking up at their robot family skits. Most of my contemporary’s kids and the typical women I date would have a hard time believing a variety show centered on mime had a successful run in prime time; when there were only 5 channels no less.
It was that damnable Facebook that pricked the long dormant smell of greasepaint, powder and hairspray for me. I’m friends with my junior high drama teacher on there and some suck up former student brought up how neat it would be to have a mime troupe reunion and it all came rushing back. I can see the notification now; You’re invited to join the group, “Mime is Mimetastic”-2 friends have joined…That would so not be neat.
But why had I blocked it out? I hadn’t blocked out that I played football and baseball or was in other drama productions. Plus, now it may be a hackneyed joke and the bane of San Francisco street performers but mime was actually cool back then. I was lucky enough to see Marcel Marceau twice and in all seriousness can say that he was a true artist whose life’s work should not be marginalized by mime’s faded popularity as a form of expression. It was Marceau that poignantly observed, “do not the most moving moments of our lives find us without words?”
I don’t know, the more I think about it maybe I should have let this lie. If I blocked out the memories of my relative success as a mime, what kind of horrors and angst am I potentially unlocking for those losers that didn’t make the cut. Maybe the only thing that says more about someone than being a successful member of the mime troupe is having tried out and not made the mime troupe.
Alas, mime has devolved into being the Members Only jacket of the performance arts but just think if it got popular again. I’m not a celebrity so I wouldn’t make it on Miming with the Stars but I could definitely picture Ryan Seacrest calling my name out as the next winner of American Mime. I wonder if my white overalls are still at mom and dad’s somewhere...
It was there all along. A locked door that not even years of therapy could help me unlock. The hours and dollars spent on self-discovery could have easily been saved if I had just taken the time to go through the old pictures at mom and dad’s. I guess I had blocked it out.
I don’t ever remember consciously blocking it out and I really don’t think I had any bad experience that would cause me to do so but I did. I had forgotten that I was a proud member of The Mime Troupe at Spring Oaks Junior High. There I said it; I was a mime.
Or is it, “I am a mime”? What about the old chestnut “once a mime, always a mime”, I’m sure someone has said that once or twice somewhere. So yes, I’m a non-practicing mime. No, scratch that, I walked by someone’s cube yesterday and mimed the international “hang loose” sign with my hand holding it to my ear to silently signal someone to call me when they got off the phone. The success of my artistry was evidenced by the fact that said person did indeed call me when they got off of the phone.
So in my quest to define myself I’ve stumbled upon another piece of the puzzle. But what does being a childhood prodigy of mime say about me and why had I forgotten about it? Well, for one thing any of my friends reading this are finding it hard to believe that I was ever quiet long enough to get through a mime show but my tendency to be verbose is well documented so nothing new there.
It also dates me back to the days when mime was briefly king of the entertainment world. There was even a prime time show featuring mime on network television, The Shields and Yarnell Show. That was Must See TV around our house and I still remember cracking up at their robot family skits. Most of my contemporary’s kids and the typical women I date would have a hard time believing a variety show centered on mime had a successful run in prime time; when there were only 5 channels no less.
It was that damnable Facebook that pricked the long dormant smell of greasepaint, powder and hairspray for me. I’m friends with my junior high drama teacher on there and some suck up former student brought up how neat it would be to have a mime troupe reunion and it all came rushing back. I can see the notification now; You’re invited to join the group, “Mime is Mimetastic”-2 friends have joined…That would so not be neat.
But why had I blocked it out? I hadn’t blocked out that I played football and baseball or was in other drama productions. Plus, now it may be a hackneyed joke and the bane of San Francisco street performers but mime was actually cool back then. I was lucky enough to see Marcel Marceau twice and in all seriousness can say that he was a true artist whose life’s work should not be marginalized by mime’s faded popularity as a form of expression. It was Marceau that poignantly observed, “do not the most moving moments of our lives find us without words?”
I don’t know, the more I think about it maybe I should have let this lie. If I blocked out the memories of my relative success as a mime, what kind of horrors and angst am I potentially unlocking for those losers that didn’t make the cut. Maybe the only thing that says more about someone than being a successful member of the mime troupe is having tried out and not made the mime troupe.
Alas, mime has devolved into being the Members Only jacket of the performance arts but just think if it got popular again. I’m not a celebrity so I wouldn’t make it on Miming with the Stars but I could definitely picture Ryan Seacrest calling my name out as the next winner of American Mime. I wonder if my white overalls are still at mom and dad’s somewhere...
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