Kennedy

  I was in 5th grade.  Mrs. Kirk was our teacher.  She was short and very strict.  Some kids thought she was mean.  We had to memorize a poem every six weeks and present it before the class.  I guess she liked me, because I did mine right.  

 It was November 22nd, 1963.  We just had lunch in the cafeteria and had settled in to carve green brick.  It was basically hard clay.  They gave every kid a stainless-steel knife to work on the brick.  (Imagine giving that kind of knife to a kid today.  There could be some injuries.)  

 Suddenly, another teacher named Mrs. Elmore burst into our room and frantically told Mrs. Kirk to turn on the TV.  We had a black and white TV in our classroom to watch educational programs.  Mrs. Kirk didn't know what to think, but she cut on our TV.  Just then, we heard the news.  President Kennedy had been shot in Dallas, Texas.  I knew where Dallas was, because I spent a summer in Fort Worth, when I was 3.  

 When I heard the news, I dropped my knife onto the table and gasped.  Some kids laughed, and Mrs. Kirk told them to be quiet.  Shortly after the first news bulletin, they said that the President was dead.  There was silence in our room, and we just stared blankly at the TV screen.  

 After a few minutes, our school's principal came over the PA and said that they were dismissing school.  We didn't have school buses.  Some parents came to pick up their children.  Most of us walked home still in shock.  

 During that weekend, I was glued to the TV except for one time that my neighbor Bruce and I walked outside to get some fresh air. My mother and I saw Lee Harvey Oswald get shot live on TV.  My mother fell to her knees in front of our TV and yelled out, "They shot him"!  I don't know if she thought there was a conspiracy, but I kind of think she did.  

 Years later, I met one of the military pallbearers for Kennedy.  He lived in Columbia and named James Felder.  He later became a civil rights advocate and a hero of mine.  

 That day in 1963 will always be etched in my memory.  You just don't forget days like those. 

Cuba

  I was in elementary school, when the Cuban Missile Crisis occurred in 1962.  We were all scared that the Soviet Union was going to supply nuclear missiles to Cuba, and they would then launch them at the United States thus starting World War III.  The country started a policy for school children called "Duck and Cover".  We were supposed to get under our desks and put our hands over our heads.  This was supposed to protect us from getting killed in a nuclear war.  They also used that exercise for a possible tornado hitting our school.  

 When we got the word, we all fell to the floor and did what we were supposed to do.  As time went on, our teachers became aware that putting our hands over our heads probably wouldn't protect us much, so they moved us into the school's hallway.  We all sat with our knees to our chests, and we put our heads between our knees.  This posture was supposed to protect us better from a tornado or a nuclear blast.  It got us away from the windows in the classrooms.  Smart move.  No one really knew what would happen to us should we be hit.  It was a little more comforting though.

 Living through the Cold War was pretty traumatic.  You just never knew if or when somebody would start a war.  If I watch a movie now that pertains to a nuclear war, and it stops before something bad happens, I start to cry.  It is a reflex action from that period in my life.  Of course, we still have nuclear missiles.  So do other countries.  We also know not to "duck and cover".

 Years later, I came across a blacklight poster in a store.  It looked official from the government.  It had printed steps on what to do in the event of a nuclear attack.  The last line of the poster said, "Put your head between your knees and kiss your ass goodbye."  That made more sense than what the school had us to do.  Keep that thought in the back of your mind just in case.

Craft

  In elementary school, we went on some field trips.  The main purpose for the teachers was for us students to learn about something outside of the classroom environment.  For us students, it was a time to get away from school and pretend we were learning about something outside of the classroom environment.

 We were in 4th grade and went to the Columbia Museum of Art which was on Senate Street downtown.  The cool thing for me was that it was across the street from a local TV station (WIS).  I loved TV.  So, we were supposed to look at works of art from the Masters.  They also had a planetarium at the museum which was pretty cool.  

 The director of the museum (and the founder) was a man named Mr. Craft. He was pretty famous in the Art World.  We went into a room to have a class with him.  Our teacher thought he could teach us everything about art in ten minutes.  One of the things he wanted to talk about was sculpture.  I was sitting on the floor next to his feet.  He looked at me and asked me what a hammer was for.  I didn't hear the question, so I said I didn't know.  He laughed at me.  The whole class laughed at me.  He ridiculed me by saying I didn't know what a hammer was, and didn't my father show a hammer to me?  Didn't I use the hammer to pound in nails?  I felt stupid, and he let me know I was stupid.  The fact of the matter was that I hadn't heard his question.

 All the way back to school, I had to hear the laughter from my fellow students that I didn't know what a hammer was.  Years later, I went back to that museum to confront Mr. Craft, but he had already died.  Good for him.  I was going to bring a hammer.  

Typewriter

  When I think of the word "typewriter", many things come to mind.  The first thing I ever wrote was on a Royal typewriter.  It was a TV commercial for a cereal, when I was five.  The ad agency said I showed promise, but they wouldn't use it.  My father had to show me which buttons to press on the typewriter. Later, my parents gave me a typewriter for a high school graduation present.  It was a Smith-Corona manual typewriter.  I used it until it finally gave out in the 2000's.  I wrote a lot of papers on that typewriter, and I learned how to edit my typing by thinking a couple of sentences ahead.  I even took a typewriting class at a local business school.  I was never really fast and just ended up typing with four fingers. 

 My mother wanted to sell our old Royal typewriter to a college student.  They had acquired it probably back in the 1940's or maybe earlier.  It was really an antique, but she felt that someone else could use it.  She put a notice on the bulletin board at Carolina and that she wanted $20 for it.  This was back in the 1980s.  An Indian student called her and expressed an interest in the typewriter. They agreed to meet in the lobby of a downtown hotel to finalize the transaction.  I went with Mother to the hotel.  

 At the appointed time, the student arrived to look at the typewriter.  He wasn't impressed with it.  In fact, he told her that it was something he didn't expect to see.  The boy said he would give her $10.  My mother was a little miffed, because she thought they had a deal at $20.  Just then, a local TV personality named Joe Pinner walked into the hotel on the way to the dining room for lunch.  My mother said, "Well hello Joe"! She didn't really know him, but she watched him on TV and felt like she knew him.  Joe graciously replied, "Hello, my dear".  The Indian boy's mouth dropped open.  He knew who Joe Pinner was, and he assumed that my mother knew Joe.  The boy gave my mother the $20 and went away impressed.

 Years later, I told Joe that story. I told him that he was responsible for my mother selling the typewriter.  We laughed about it, and he said, with a smile on his face, that he wanted a commission for the sold typewriter.  Whenever I would see him out and about, he would ask me where his commission was?  Then, we would laugh once again.  Thanks, Joe.

Teachers

  Whatever you think is what you want to do in life, a teacher can come along and steer you into another direction.  You may not even realize it at the time, but they can be more objective that you and see talents that you might not even know about.  I have written about my Drama teachers before, as they related to a school I was attending, but I wanted to take this story to feature them all together as a steppingstone to better days.

 Catherine Eaker was at Columbia College.  I was part of a group of high school students from all over Columbia who were chosen to take college-level courses in Theatre and then put on a play.  To this day, I still don't know why I was selected.  The only Drama I had done to that point were a couple of Christmas plays in school.  I learned a lot from her.  She taught me how to work with an ensemble and be believable in my character.  After I got grown, she invited me back to do a Children's play at Columbia College, where I had the lead.  It was a terrifying experience, but she saw that I could do it well.  She was always patient with me, and she put me on that road to better days.

 Everett Vivian was the Speech and Drama teacher at Anderson College.  By the time I got to college, I wanted to major in English and be a writer, but a twist of fate got me into their Drama program.  To be perfectly honest, I felt I knew more about Theatre than him, but he was a good director and got be involved in pretty much everything related to Speech and Drama.  I did learn something about backstage work from him, and also that one doesn't have to do the lead role every time.

 Dale Rains was my Drama teacher at Presbyterian College for my junior year.  I had come into PC from Anderson as being the best in my class.  When I got Dr. Rains, I found that there were actors as good as me or better.  I had to wait my turn to go on the stage and show what I could do.  I did backstage work on two productions, before he let me do my thing.  He taught me a lot about character development.

 Skelly Warren was my Drama teacher at PC for my senior year, as Dr. Rains went on sabbatical.  Skelly was a disciplinarian, which didn't sit well with a lot of us Theatre students who were more free-spirited.  He did teach me about concentration and blocking out everything around you.  He also taught me a valuable lesson.  If you know that you are perfect for a part, you may find out that the director has other plans for you and give you another role that is better.  

 Paula Brooks was my Communications teacher at Southwestern Seminary.  She mostly focused on public speaking, but we worked together to do Religious Drama.  She got permission from the seminary to do a Communications major, and I was the first person to do that.  She and I developed the courses needed for that major, and we did four presentations during my time at that school.  

 In each case, my teachers propelled me forward to do better and to learn more.  They have gone on to Heaven, but I relish the time I had with each one to make me a better actor.  And, I can feel their presence in my heart and mind in making me the best person at what I do in my life.

Question

  I have been struggling with a question:  Who Am I?  It is pretty easy for someone to answer that question about me, but it is very difficult for me to answer it about myself.  It really depends on who you ask, and what part of my life have they known me.  I have friends from 60+ years ago, and some I have recently met.  I hate first impressions.  I also hate assumptions.  For those who have known me a long time, they may not know everything about me.  I have tried for the last ten years, that I have been writing my life story on this blog, to explain who I was and am now.  By devoting the majority of my life to creating a persona that people will like, it makes it very complicated for me to know who I really am as a person.  Some of that persona involved masks.  Some of it involved being different characters.  Some of it involved not being true to myself and others.  So, let's peel back the onion that is my life.

 Some have seen me as a churchgoing person.  I grew up in the church from the day I was born, literally.  My father was a minister, and my mother was a Sunday School teacher.  That part of my life afforded me with some opportunities that others didn't have.  I guess you could say I was blessed to have a family like I had.

 I was also a hippie.  I was an anti-war activist during the Vietnam War era. Just ask the FBI and CIA about that. I did drugs and got drunk a lot.  There were times that I don't know how I got home or how I didn't get arrested.

 I was (and still am) a writer.  I wrote commercials, poems, dramas, short stories, a partial novel, puppet shows, songs, and some blogs.  In many ways, those things were an escape for me from the hardships of life.  I also found that I could communicate to others in a meaningful way.  

 Some people perceived me as a great actor.  I am not going to argue that impression of me.  I can't do that much anymore due to my loss of stamina, but it also helped me escape into a character other than myself.  

 Thanks to learning a trade, I became a retail genius.  Everything I touched and sold in retail stores was a success.  My bosses liked me for doing it, but maybe not enough to pay me for what I was worth to them.  

 There are some things I am not proud of.  I hurt some people.  I could not have a real relationship with women, because I was afraid of commitment. I lied to people.  I spread rumors about people.  I was undisciplined about my life.  I enjoyed pornography.  I sold bootlegged music and videos.  I had a rich fantasy life, especially when it involved relationships. I became homeless, although that was a good thing for me.

 So, who am I now?  I am an advocate for those without a voice in this world.  I am a political junkie. I sell collectibles (eBay, Amazon and Discogs).  I suffer from depression, anxiety and lung issues.  I am still painfully shy, although I try not to let that control me all of the time.  I am loyal to my friends, and I try to treat everyone equally.  Most of all, I am a Christian.  God saved me from killing myself 16 years ago, as He prepared me for my next chapter of my life.  I may be classified as poor economically, but I am rich in Spirit. He has given me humility and not take credit for any good that I do.  I know that I have some God-given talents that have made me who I am, as others see me.  He has kept me alive for a reason.  That is why I am now.  And hopefully, I can continue that for Him a while longer.

Television

  I have done a lot of television.  Some were filmed projects, and others were interviews. With the filmed projects, they were done similarly to films, only quicker.  The interviews were done much quicker, consisting of a few minutes to maybe a half hour.  When doing television, you kind of know who the target audience will be.  Movies could be seen by a wide range of people.  Television is more specific.

 When I did educational programs for 8th grade History classes, we knew who would see it.  The filming was professional but shot only in a couple of days.  There were some continuity issues, but we figured that 8th graders probably wouldn't see them.  If it has been a movie, those issues might have been fixed or maybe not.  Another educational show I was involved in was quite rigorous, because it was being filmed for a wider audience.  The continuity was grueling and meticulous, but it had to be that way for accuracy.  The filming also went on for a couple of weeks, because it was like a TV movie.  Had it been a movie, a couple of weeks would have turned into a couple of months.  The key to doing that kind of TV is to know to do the same thing in the same way, much like movies.  You don't want to show up on a blooper reel years later.

 Interviews are a lot harder.  If it is a short interview, you had better know the points you want to make and anticipate the questions posed to you.  A successful interview will work if there is some chemistry between the two parties. It also works, if the interview is edited by the interviewer before broadcast.  However, there are times when that is not possible.  Live interviews or live to tape are the hardest.  You still have points in your mind about what you want to say, but the interviewer might throw you a curveball and ask something you had not prepared for.  Thinking on your feet (or in a chair) is hard, but you can't panic.  You take a breath and then answer the question.  Hopefully, it will sound okay.  In one interview, they had told me the subjects that would be covered.  I had time to think about my answers.  Then, right before closing the interview, they asked me a question that I had not prepared for.  I couldn't just blow it off, so I came up with a profound answer.  At least, they thought so.  My relaxation techniques worked very well in that situation.

 Just as in film, you can't think about how many people would see you on TV.  Just do your job, and everything will fit into place.  I am ultra-critical about what I do or say on TV, films or plays.  That is how I get better.  No matter how many accolades I can get from an audience, I know I can always be better. I am a perfectionist.  That can be good or bad.  The key is to learn from the bad and accept the good.  And maybe, your ego won't be so big that you can't fit it in a room, like mine used to be.