Mimetalker's Blog

a mime is a terrible thing to waste.


Illinois, USA
January 26
On this blog: All words (other than identified quotations) © Sharon Nesbit-Davis, All rights reserved. *********************************** ********************************** You can find me on Facebook: Sharon Nesbit-Daivs, or "The Mime Writes" Logo Design by Dianaani ********************************** I work as the Education & Community Engagement Director of a Regional Arts Council which means I beg "the deciders" to fund and support the arts for everyone, not just the rich. *********************************** I am also a mime. For those that hate mimes, I understand. But you'll never find me annoying people on the street, unless I'm living there. I'm a "concert mime" ...which means you have to buy a ticket. I haven't done much mime lately...I'd rather be writing. *********************************** I've been married to my one and only since 1976. Still happy. Still in love. Two kids, eight grandkids. In college I became a Baha'i (a world religion whose main theme is unity). It keeps me relatively sane in a world gone mad.


APRIL 1, 2012 9:45AM

My Good News Sunday: seeing her again

Rate: 18 Flag

I was at a High School poetry competition this week and saw a glimpse of her face on someone else. When the girl stepped to the mic I saw familiar cheek bones and eyes and red hair, thick like hers once was. This girl had a unique approach to the poem. I wanted to talk with her, find out if a quirky red headed woman visited her dreams. Is that how she discovered trees had voices? But I'm sane enough to know how crazy that sounds. 


There were differences. My niece was taller and, after the chemo, leaner. This girl had a midwest accent. Not the one I hear when I listen to my voice mail. She called on my birthday but I was celebrating at Chuck E. Cheese with the grandkids. When I called her the next day I explained we did it as a mystery trip on the way home from Red Lobster. I jumped out of our car at a red light and into my daughter's van. I said "Somethings wrong with Papa. He says he won't take me home. I don't know what's going on." My acting was worse than a B-movie. I yelled "Follow him!" Then covered my face trying to stifle giggles while my daughter drove and pretended to act concerned. The nine year old was suspicious. "It sounds like you guys are laughing." But the five year old believed it, and cried. Fortunately Chuck E. was just a block away.


My niece didn't know about our mystery trips.  So I told stories about pulling the kids out of bed to take them to a lunar eclipse and blind folding them for ice cream runs. I promised a mystery trip during her next visit.  


The voice in the message is barely her. She was breathless and the words didn't flow easily. But she says my name and "I love you". Every thirty days the lady inside my phone tells me I have a message ready for deletion and asks if I want it saved again. Silly question.   


I know the poetry girl wasn’t her, but it was good to see her again.


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So happy for you.
If I could, I'd drop by and take you out for a mystery trip.
Visits are nice. Your mystery trips sound fun, too.
You and Mark Twain. Check out his essay Mental Telegraphy Again. BTW, I'm afraid I must forward this post to your local Child Protective Services office. Those kids will have nightmares for YEARS to come, perhaps for the rest of their LIVES!!!
I hope you see her often.
It's so nice when the universe gives us a gift like that.
God, this is so beautiful it has me in tears.
Love the Mystery Trip concept! My momma used to leave a shoebox with a surprise in it under my bed every now and then, when I needed something to cheer me, or I'd been good. I'll never forget it, nor you with the Mystery Trip.
Happy for you, the love flows.
i love that you were a crappy actor and the older kids caught on but you did it anyway. and when you described the phone message, i felt it in my bones. so glad you had this moment, sharon. there will be more.
I wish I could rate comments. Thumbs up and {{hugs}} to you all.