Leaving a Lasting Impression
Nov. 1st, 2012 09:27 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dogriverI've talked about this often, and written of it before. But it's a story which I, for whatever reason, feel a compelling need to retell.
It was the spring of 1988. Our church's youth group was to host a troupe of entertainers who were going to put on a show for us at the local high school. It would start by giving these people supper at the church, then we'd go to the high school for the performance. I wasn't directly involved, my family wasn't billeting anyone, but I'd heard there was a lot of comedy in this performance, so how could I resist? Besides, I was on the youth group's leadership committee, I can't remember what we called ourselves, but it would have been bad form for me not to be there.
There was a young lady sitting across the table from me at supper. Her name was Melanie. Over the course of the meal, Melanie and I got to talking, and it was thoroughly enjoyable. I decided I quite liked these players and was looking forward to the performance. I asked her what her role in the whole thing was to be, and she said, somewhat ruefully (given her audience) that she was a mime. I smiled.
I thought I'd seen the last of Melanie after supper when she went to join the others to get ready for the show. I considered myself better for the experience: there are some people you just can't help but like, and for me, Melanie was one such person.
When it came time for the performance later that evening, I was sitting in the audience enjoying myself, when I noticed someone plop down beside me after the show had already started, after the introductions. She spoke, and to my surprise, it was Melanie. She started describing to me, quietly, what was going on onstage, whatever wasn't obvious from the dialog. And she knew how to do it, too: not overly descriptive, but not missing anything important, either. She left, of course, when her part came up, but afterwards she was back, and at some point described her act to me. She stayed with me for the duration of the show, and made a thoroughly enjoyable evening so much more so.\
I've never forgotten her, the impression she made on me. It's nothing romantic or anything like that, it never was, but that doesn't make it any less meaningful or important, even now, almost 25 years later. She treated a blind high school kid with respect dignity, genuineness, warmth and friendship, and she taught that kid a lot about how to treat others. He still had, and has, a long way to on in that respect. But my life is so much richer for the experience. Somehow, I doubt very much that Melanie has or had any idea of what she did and its impact. No doubt I've faded from her mind entirely, or maybe I'm a memory of a geeky country kid in a small town a long time ago. But her impact was gigantic. I know for dead certain that I will never, ever forget her, even though I'll likely never run into her again.
It was the spring of 1988. Our church's youth group was to host a troupe of entertainers who were going to put on a show for us at the local high school. It would start by giving these people supper at the church, then we'd go to the high school for the performance. I wasn't directly involved, my family wasn't billeting anyone, but I'd heard there was a lot of comedy in this performance, so how could I resist? Besides, I was on the youth group's leadership committee, I can't remember what we called ourselves, but it would have been bad form for me not to be there.
There was a young lady sitting across the table from me at supper. Her name was Melanie. Over the course of the meal, Melanie and I got to talking, and it was thoroughly enjoyable. I decided I quite liked these players and was looking forward to the performance. I asked her what her role in the whole thing was to be, and she said, somewhat ruefully (given her audience) that she was a mime. I smiled.
I thought I'd seen the last of Melanie after supper when she went to join the others to get ready for the show. I considered myself better for the experience: there are some people you just can't help but like, and for me, Melanie was one such person.
When it came time for the performance later that evening, I was sitting in the audience enjoying myself, when I noticed someone plop down beside me after the show had already started, after the introductions. She spoke, and to my surprise, it was Melanie. She started describing to me, quietly, what was going on onstage, whatever wasn't obvious from the dialog. And she knew how to do it, too: not overly descriptive, but not missing anything important, either. She left, of course, when her part came up, but afterwards she was back, and at some point described her act to me. She stayed with me for the duration of the show, and made a thoroughly enjoyable evening so much more so.\
I've never forgotten her, the impression she made on me. It's nothing romantic or anything like that, it never was, but that doesn't make it any less meaningful or important, even now, almost 25 years later. She treated a blind high school kid with respect dignity, genuineness, warmth and friendship, and she taught that kid a lot about how to treat others. He still had, and has, a long way to on in that respect. But my life is so much richer for the experience. Somehow, I doubt very much that Melanie has or had any idea of what she did and its impact. No doubt I've faded from her mind entirely, or maybe I'm a memory of a geeky country kid in a small town a long time ago. But her impact was gigantic. I know for dead certain that I will never, ever forget her, even though I'll likely never run into her again.
