Sometimes Hope Has No Feathers but Does Have a Monocle.

18 Apr

“The Random House Dictionary of the English Language defines my position as Impresario thusly– ‘one who organizes or manages public entertainment’. 

Generally, the people I have the most contact with are the tax people, the legal people and the money people.  Not a gaggle  of chuckles there, I assure you.  The people I seldom see are the performers with their pretty public faces and tortured souls, alas.

I adore lunching with performers. So, happy, funny, and eager to please.  The best people to be around when the sun is shining brightly.  You feel handsome and charming when you are around them.  A kind of osmosis of charisma.  I wonder if sitting across from me they feel more level-headed and realistic?  Oh, bah!  No one ever fantasizes about being more in touch with reality, do they?

When performers are unhappy the whole world is sad.  They seek out the comfort of the Director.  The Daddy – or occasionally, the Mommy.  But who comforts the Director when he has his dark night of the soul and feels as if he is staring into the abyss?   — Moi! 

I give the Daddy or Mommy a clumsy hug.  Then I look them in the eye and spin a fantasy of numbers and possibilities.  I transform the impossible into the probable.  I spout an aria of theatrical miracles from the past.  I replace the disaster we are facing with a bright shining star above Bethlehem.  By the end, I have convinced us both.

False hope?  It is always false hope if the odds beat you in the end.  At that moment it is simply hope.  Hope is all that matters.  The wheel spins.  You win, you lose.  Who can say what will happen until the ball drops into the slot?  Is it triumph or failure?   It matters not.  Tomorrow, you still must spin again, eh?”

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