I’ve discovered a fun new
hobby in revisiting some memories of my youth through the pop culture markers
that framed them. Whether these memories are triggered by old songs, movies, television
programs or books, it’s fascinating to take them in again a decade or two since
they were the must see, hear, or read of their time.
It all started when I sat
down to watch “The Wizard of Oz” and came away with a whole new take on the
The thing that struck me was
that, back then, it was the Wicked Witch of the West and the flying monkeys who
captured my imagination—most likely because they scared the bejesus out of me.
Now, though, it’s The Wizard who’s become the one I think of when trying to
fall asleep at night.
I have no doubt that my first
sighting of The Wizard – the moment after he was stripped of his curtain – was to
laugh out loud at the sad little man before me. Now I see a mere mortal just
trying to live up to the hype that surrounds him.
I find this so interesting
because I think we all have our wizards. They are the people we have just enough
distance from to build up into characters even greater than what they portray
in their resumes and bios. Sure, there are some real titans, like Oprah and
Steve Jobs, who create something as close to Oz as we munchkins could imagine.
But I am thinking about the people accessible enough to us that we might see them
around town.
I recently had the
opportunity to meet one of my wizards face to face. Her name is Ivory Madison
and she is the founder and CEO of the Red Room, a social networking website I
belong to that connects readers and writers. In the first year I blogged at the
site, I regarded her with nothing short of awe. Her bio sat below her headshot
and said far more than the obvious: “Not just a pretty face.”
Prior to founding the
worldwide Red Room website, Ivory founded a “brick and mortar” writers’ society
that’s regarded as part of
To say that I would never
have reached out to this woman is an understatement. It would have never
actually even occurred to me to do
so. I saw her accomplishments and subconsciously compared them to the lowlights
of my own and felt very, very inferior.
As fate would have it -- after
a year of being intimidated from afar -- I had the unique opportunity to be
mentored by Ivory for an upcoming public reading at Litquake,
This, of course, meant that
I, the Cowardly Lion, would have to follow the yellow brick road up Highway 101
to meet her. My fear, of course, was that she’d look me in the eye and be
disgusted by my lack of courage. Or, worse yet, deem my writing unworthy of her
time.
Determined to never say no
to a growth opportunity, I rolled on my Clinical Strength Secret antiperspirant
and hit the road. I might have even breathed into a paper bag before knocking
on the door, but I will not confirm this so as to keep some semblance of
dignity. Ivory opened the door. And you know what? The minute she did, she left
the wizard’s booth I’d built for her in my mind.
But unlike the sad little
man I first saw unveiled in the movie, I met a generous and genuine flesh-and-blood
woman whom I, myself, had made into a wizard. This woman gave me some specific
tips that improved my public reading and was utterly lovely to spend time with.
But the real lesson she taught me was obviously even bigger.
The experience makes me
wonder how many opportunities we all miss out on by building other people up
while taking ourselves down. How many wizards do we keep at an arm’s distance who
could help us grow as colleagues, neighbors or friends?
Here’s to unmasking those
wizards and making the most out of this life.
This column originally appeared in the Times Media newspapers serving Almaden, Cambrian, Willow Glen, Campbell and Evergreen.
