Don’t say a word.


Believe it or not, you have just read the first three pages of my writing tonight.  Just now.  I did it in Mime.  Yes. This evening I wrote the entire prelude to this, in Mime.

This all started this morning.  Again.   You see.   Mary & I love to watch the birds as we enjoy a cup of morning coffee.  And, just about every morning, I name my “favorite” bird.  I have a short list.

Tufted Titmouse. Flicker. Female Goldfinch. Nuthatch. Carolina Wren. Hummingbird.  And daily, it seems, the favorite changes.   But the Nuthatch, is primarily at the top of the list.

One of the reasons I like the Nuthatch so much is because they remind me of Mimes.   I think it is their little white faces, and the way they bob around as they do.

I like a Mime. I do.  But Mimes get a really bad rap.  It truly is an art form.  I think.  A mime or mime artist (which, by the way…. comes from the Greek word… that looks like this: μῖμος.  It is mimos and it means……”imitator, actor”).

Any way.  As you know, a Mime is someone who uses implication…. as a theatrical medium….. or as a performance art.  That’s as close as I can define it.  They imply.  They  act out a story through body motions, without use of speech.

But a lot of people absolutely abhor Mimes.   They seem to really dislike the “campy” Mimes, who hang out at parks and festivals… using satire.  Oh the life of the Misunderstood Mime.  It’s hard to make a buck these days.

I grew up knowing about Marcel Marceau.  He  was a French actor and mime most famous for his stage persona as “Bip the Clown”.

Marceau was awesome.  I loved to watch him when he’d be on shows like Laugh-In, or The Carol Burnett Show.   He was magic in motion.  He referred to mime as the “art of silence,” and he performed professionally worldwide for over 60 years.

I did not realize this about him though.  As a youth, he lived in hiding and worked with the French Resistance during most of World War II.  Later, he started a big school for Mimes in Paris.   He rocked it.  Today… we would probably give him some catchy name… like Mimey Mime.  or M&M… or something.

Honestly, I think I would like to be Mime.  I wonder if it is hard to be a Mime?  The older I get, the more and more I find myself listening instead of speaking.   Being silent.  Like a Mime.  But.  I wonder if they ARE good listeners… or even if you can listen to anyone… when you are miming.

I bet it is hard.  And. It is probably how all those Mime Accidents happen. You hear about them, in the news, mostly in West Virginia.  A big Mime Accident, and how they have to go in and rescue the trapped Mimers.  I don’t understand quite what it going all with all of this.  Are Mimes getting trapped in their imaginary glass boxes… is that the accident?  How the heck do you rescue someone from an imaginary box?

Ah.  I KNEW we would come to a big life question from all of this.

We can listen. And listen. And listen.  But how do we rescue someone from being trapped in their imaginary box.  Or what about this. ….. .. What if we are the Mimes? And each one of us has some sort of “glass box” that we are trying to feel our way out of?  Our imaginary box we are trying to be rescued from?

Maybe  if we look to the wisdom of the Nuthatch.  They get their common name from their habit of jamming large nuts and acorns into tree bark, then whacking them with their sharp bill to “hatch” out the nut from the inside.

Just crack that nut open.  Break the glass box.  Oh.  Heaven help us all.