Caught White-Handed – Part One

I have a lame memory. I’m not sure why. I think it’s because my life has been a rather peaceful one scattered with happy mild memories. I do think trauma lends itself to memory retention. There must be some research done on the topic right?

I have had very few traumatic events in my life. And just by writing this for all to see, I am scared. But I’m not known to be superstitious so moving on…..

One semi-traumatic memory I can recall rather vividly happened when I was around 25-years-old. My boyfriend was this hot, sexy, musician, surfer dude who was going out with me for some unknown reason. And we were hanging out with some dear friends, Ricky and Steph, who had actually introduced us. Our friends had already gotten married and they had moved into their new house they had just bought. It all seemed so grown up to me at the time.

We were standing in their garage and I was chatting with Steph as she looked through some boxes, and my boyfriend and Ricky were probably goofing around strumming some guitars.

Steph pulled out a thick, navy, bound book titled “Who’s Who in American High Schools – The 1985 Edition.” All of us present were proud members of The Class of 1985. (I will pause here so you guys can compose yourselves after you take the time to figure out how old I am.)



So we started leafing through it trying to find our names. After finding Steph and Ricky, we located my name. Did I really pay to put myself in this book, I wondered? I know my parents hadn’t sprung for the cost of the book so I was doubtful that I was listed. But there I was….

My glowing accomplishments were listed in fine print for the world to see, and Steph started reading them out loud….

“JV and Varsity Track and Field, National Honor Society, AP Math, English, and History, Thespian with roles in The Taming of the Shrew, The Fantasticks, The Diary of Anne Frank…..”

Blah, blah, blah….

Steph suddenly stopped reading and a big, slightly-confused grin appeared on her face, and then she continued….

“Recipient of the 1984 Outstanding Female….MIME….Award!????!!”

You were a mime?” Steph asked laughing.

And as my mind raced wondering how to justify my existence as an outstanding high school mime, my hot, sexy, boyfriend stopped strumming his guitar and sauntered over to see what all the hooplah was about.

By this point, Steph was doubled over in laughter, and I’m sure I was trying to laugh too because yeah, it was funny after all, right? And I know I never ever turn red with embarassment but I’m pretty sure this was the one time in my life when I did.

I mean, when I was working so hard perfecting the art of miming in my sophmore and junior years in high school rehearsing my extravagant storylines for our high school’s mime show, I had no idea it would come back to bite me in the ass like this.

So my hot surfer boyfriend checks out the entry and looks at me with his ocean-blue, soulful eyes and after taking a moment to mull over the fact that he was dating a chick with a mime background, he smiled and said, “Cool.”


Stay tuned for Part Two of “The Mime Trilogy.”

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