Thinking Out Loud, Volume CCCLV

I was standing backstage, patiently awaiting my turn when Mrs. Knapp tapped me on the shoulder and said, "Okay, it's time." A spotlight followed me as I approached the microphone.  Although it was dark in the auditorium, the light brightened the room just enough for me to get some idea of the size of the audience I was facing, but for some reason, the capacity crowd didn't scare me. I was aware of the fact that my words were intended to be somewhat humorous, but I must admit the elation I felt was indescribable when I heard the laughter and applause coming from the audience. I was seven years old. One more example:  Once  when I was a teenager, the youth of our church traveled to another city where we performed a little play about some criminals who were on death row. Each performer had written his/her own part, and the young lady who was up just ahead of me was portraying someone who had only two weeks to live. When she finished her part, there wasn't a dry eye in the building. Then it was my turn. I had only one week to live.  Without really intending to, I transformed the somber mood in that building to one of hilarity, and the tears turned to howls of laughter. That wasn't the way it was supposed to go, and no doubt my teacher had some regrets about letting us write our own monologue, but I must tell you, I left there feeling pretty good. As a young adult, I actually went on the road on a part-time basis, doing a comedy routine primarily for church parties and conventions, as well as company socials. My audiences ranged from as few as about twenty-five people, to crowds of more than a thousand, and through it all, I experienced the horrific feeling of trying to be funny while no one was laughing, as well as that rush I would get when people are laughing so hard they're peeing in their pants. Then one day it all changed. While I still enjoy making people laugh, the urge to get on stage as a comedian has left me, and when it did, it went far away.  Nobody is in a funny mood all the time, and I found myself in a position where I just couldn't get people to take me seriously.  I can recall times when I felt frustrated when I would crack a joke and the other person would just look at me like I was an idiot, but that can't hold a candle to the frustration I would feel when I was being serious and people thought I was trying to be funny. Since then there have been times when I've been asked to teach classes at church, and I've discovered a new type of rush....the one that comes when it's obvious that the people in the class are soaking up every word I have to say. If you read my Facebook posts, you know that I still try to make people at least smile at what I have to say, but please allow me to be serious sometime too. It's important to me. Preston