Magic for Will on 030303

Last night I performed my highly polished close-up magic show, one that any magician world wide would agree is excellent, for a family gathering of about 30, the maximum number for a close-up style show in a private home, centered around Will who today is entering the hospital for a final attempt to beat cancer involving now a stem cell transplant. Apparently Will has been practicing his magic effects on the nurses at the clinic and making quite a scene, and for every chemo treatment he would arrive as a completely new and fully made up character with an atmosphere of humor and a sense that the chemo is happening to the character, but not to his real self. His family thought it would be great to have a magician on this night, his sister remembered me from over ten years ago and gave me a call. Although the price for this type of service is high for a small home party, the results can be priceless. She booked me, and this night was one of the finest examples of priceless.

Driving home, tears spilled out of me as I recognized the immense value of life and each individual, especially my new friend in magic, Will. After the show, he told me that there is a special energy or quality available to the whole family as they come together around this fight for life, and that he is happy for this even though he is the one in the center ring. It is clear that in his struggle to live, he suffers and yet works constantly to turn his suffering into a benefit for anyone with whom he may make any kind of lasting contact. His approach to healing is both healthy for him and a gift to his family as it brings them into the drama and provides roles for them to create together moments marking his great attempts.

Magic is a powerful art. I have seen performances of magic change the lives of young children and make lasting impressions on fully grown adults. Magic can inspire people to achieve their aims and increase the power of belief that wishes do come true. This night, magic stuck a chord in everyone there. Will loved it as he sat to my left with niece on lap, his tall top hat rising up from his hairless head. He said I inspired them all to another level, and I took it that he meant this on several levels: to practice the art more and to enjoy the miracles of life as well.

It’s hard to describe the show. By the end of the first piece, we were all yelling at the top of our lungs with excitement about the impossible happening right before our eyes as each card in the deck, shuffled by a spectator, was in exact order, card for card. I open my close-up show with this whenever I can because it rocks, but almost never does it rock like this. We are talking Jimmy Hendricks here, not the usual final piano chord. I guess it helped that before this I removed Will’s hat and produced a big ball of fire from it.

In any case, nothing could go wrong. Every magical moment was fully absorbed despite the difficult angles of visibility inevitable with the sightlines in a house. That’s why we built a theatre for this art, but that’s another story, and a story about two theatres, not just one. And this other story affects the show on this night because were it not for the constant practice there in those theatres, I would not have had the same show to offer these folks. It was tight, but open to spontaneity, and they took advantage of that the whole way through. The family atmosphere complete with homemade soup, cornbread and young children contributed as much to the show as the show gave to them. In the end, we all had the ride of a lifetime.

I wish Will perfect health, and today I mail him tickets to our theatres while I picture seeing him there as soon as his body is ready.

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PS: Will survived and is doing well. He did make it to Mysterian at the theatre, and the cast was touched by this story when we met with him after the show.