The Gift

This is my belief: we humans have been bestowed a wondrous present--life. To complement this gift, we receive an inherent capacity to experience emotions and the ability to exercise free will. Moreover, awaiting discovery beneath the ingeniously-wrapped package is an assortment of treasures, each specially-designed for its recipient. These treasures, our life-happenings, can serve as invaluable sources of wisdom.

Following is an account of such an event in one person's life. That person, though temporarily traumatized, actually survived this little humiliation episode with all but some pride fully intact. Indeed, not only did the experience instill humility, but it also served as a mirror--a reminder of how truly ridiculous we humans can be when pursuing our ambitions.

I was fifteen years old and I had the most important date in my life. This rendezvous was so momentous that any and all other matters paled in significance. My date awaited me and I did not wish to disappoint him; he was known for his leadership qualities of decisiveness and punctuality. We had very important plans for the evening. Together, we were going to walk hand-in-hand right into my future. Yes, tonight I had a date with Fate.

Of course, I was selfish and a little arrogant, but what fifteen-year-old isn't? Like any kid, I readily took advantage of any opportunity to be accepted. Fortunately, in my case, I possessed a certain "gift." This talent was my vehicle to a "successful" future. Without it, I would have been destined to a life of failure. How did i know this? The world taught me. People absolutely adored me when basking in the aura of my gift.

Why does Mom always have to make such a big production? I just want to be comfortable so I can do well. Damn these stupid shoes. Dress shoes are always so awkward!.... Okay, now, is my hair okay?

"No, Mom I will not wear makeup! It makes me feel fake and, besides, I need to be comfy."

Okay, now, where was I? Gaaaawww!! Who invented slips anyway! I abhor them! Calm down! Breathe easy--inhale.....don't forget to exhale! Oh my gosh! I forgot the... No, wait! here it is! Whew! Okay, h2, calm down!

"Okaa-aaeeeyy, Mommm! Geeze, would you quit it?! you're making me nervous!"

"Oh, yeah, that'd be great. Thanks, Sis."

As I fixed my hair in front of the hotel mirror, my sister kindly assisted me in my preparations by neatly tying my dress sash, putting my shoes on me, and adjusting my necklace clasp at the back of my neck.

Finally, we were off to the grand event. We arrived, well, noisily--the whole silly lot of us: Mom, my stepfather, four of my siblings, and, most importantly, me--the family star. After everyone finally settled, I took my seat of honor, thrilled with my worthy position as the evening's guest performer.

There now. That wastn' too bad. Well, at least I didn't pass out. I can do this! This is great! Heck, this is definitely where I belong.

Now, Mom was sitting in a place befitting any well-intentioned, proud mother--the front row. Unfortunately (as usual), she was attempting to get my attention, but I would have none of that nonsense. I was on a life mission and, besides, how was I to mesmerize Larry with my maturity and sophistication with my mommy gawking and carrying on like that? So, I determined to take the most favorable route. I ignored her with all my might.

Typical of these scenarios however, I was unsuccessful in attaining my objective, because another characteristic common to good moms is tenacity. To my estimation, Mom had (like all good moms) once again determined to ruin my big night. Her strategy: assume an exaggerated countenance of puzzlement.

As is customary of a good mom, she executed her plan flawlessly. The accomplishment of her goal was manifested in my instantaneous, involuntary reponse of curiousity. For, like all kids with good moms, I simply couldn't resist The Power of The Mom no matter how hard I tried! In fact, I think there is scientific documentation suggesting the futility of any such attempt.

Before I new it, I was trapped: I wondered, "What exactly is it that's so perplexing?" Effectively admitting defeat, I briskly scanned the room for evidence. Suddenly, I was attacked with anxiety and fear as I realized that Mom's gaze was intently set on me.

What?! Oh no--do I have a booger on my face? My zipper! No.... What, damn it, what?! She's laughing at me! What?! Gaaaw, she drives me nuts sometimes! Now she's whispering to Ken. Oh, great! They're both laughing. Damn! Almost missed that entrance! Focus! Stand up. Inhale.

As I played my debut trumpet solo, the awesome presence of The Laughing Mom insidiously took up residence in my brain's grey matter. She left me no choice. Being as astute teenager, I resolved to evict her during the next rest interval. Thus, when the opportunity presented itself, I directed stern, darting, don't-embarrass-me looks her way. The Powerful One, having established eye contact, started pointing again. I successfully conveyed to her my confusion. In response, and about as subtly as is possible for this type of behavior, Mom stuck her left leg in the air. She very emphatically pointed to her foot, put the leg down, then pointed to my feet.

Oh my!! How did that happen?! Hope Larry doesn't notice this! Geeze, I'm almost of driving age and making a big debut with a professional jazz band. You'd think I could manage... Stand. Inhale. Concentrate! Solo....Don't laugh! Darn! Just this one tune. You can fix it at break. Whew! Finally! Made it through that session!

At ten-thirty we took a break. As was to be expected, all the "regulars" got drinks, socialized, and relieved themselves. I, on the other hand, remained seated, busying myself with "necessary" task such as oiling valves and adjusting music. I strove to appear calm and "at home" as audience members came to anoint me with compliments. I radiated a sense of humble confidence--of professional demeanor. I was in my element!

Within minutes, Larry approached me. I endeavored to overwhelm him with my sensibility and intellect as we casually chatted about college, my splendid solo, careers, and "the scene." I didn't know what to do--I really needed to pee! Eventually, he asked if I would like to accompany him on a brief walk. It was, after all, beautiful outside. I, of course, sophisticatedly responded, "Certainly!" or, "Sounds lovely!" (or something comparable), and informed him that I would be delighted to join him after I finished organizing my sheet music for the next set. I certainly didn't wish to shun my professional duties.

At the first chance, I deftly slipped out of the bar and headed for the restroom. To my frustration, people started in my direction with more comments. I slyly evaded them and desperately ran to the nearest lobby phone booth.

Whew--made it! A long sigh of relief escaped as I replaced each shoe--this time on the proper feet.

1997 essay