“You’re pretty good,” said one
of the men standing there watching, “Here, Jimmy, give the
man a dollar.” With that he bent down, gave the young boy a
dollar, then gently pushed him back over in front of me.
“Is your name Jimmy?” I asked, kneeling down to the
young lad.
“Yes," he said shyly, looking up for approval from
the man who just gave him the dollar.
“That’s my name, too,” I said.
“I assume that you are Jimmy's father,” I said to
the man and he nodded a “yes” and rubbed the
boy on the head.
“Thank you very much for the dollar, but I’m not a
professional. I was just practicing,” I said returning the
dollar to the boy. “You can keep it.”
“Well, I think you’re as good as any of the others
that I've seen here before,” he said. “Tell the man
'thank you' for the show, Jimmy.”
“Thank you, magician man,” said the little boy.
“Come on, Jimmy, what do you say you and I go find your
mother?” With that the father picked up some packages full
of handmade crafts and artistic trinkets, and plodded off. The
boy, holding his father’s hand, skipped along.
As he was walking away, the kid pulled on his dad's sleeve and
I could hear him say, “Dad, can I be a magician when I grow
up?”
“Son, he replied, “you can be
anything you want to be.” With that he disappeared into the
crowd. It was a beautiful moment for father and son, bringing
back memories of my own father. “You can be anything
you want to be, except unhappy.”
Then, I realized that the crowd had thinned
substantially around the “real” magician; he must have
finished his show. Putting the rope and scissors back into my
pockets, I headed back through the crowd to see the magician. As
I approached Max Vi yelled out in that same booming voice that I
remembered so well, “Ladies and gentlemen, children of all
ages, gather round..."
Darn it, I was too late to catch him in
between acts. He had already started another performance. Since
there were so many people, the crowd formed a circle before I
arrived. Quickly though, I weaved my way through the crowd,
walking right up to the front so that he’d be sure to see
me. I didn’t know quite what to do, but I had great
expectations. Whatever happened, it would be a surprise. Maybe
he would make some clever remark, which would somehow convey
that he knew that I would be back all along. Or he might bring
me up on stage and introduce me to the crowd. Perhaps he would
just wink at me or nod and smile, letting me know that he would
see me after the show. I thought that he might possibly drag me
into his show again as the assistant. I expected everything –
anything – but I was not expecting what happened next —
which was nothing. Absolutely nothing.
