Dearest Rachel -
So, last night, Daniel and I attended the annual celebration at church to honor its volunteers. Actually, it was the second of two such nights, as they couldn't have fit all of us into even the flagship campus on any given single night these days. This proved to be a plot point, as we spotted Erin's bicycle outside the church, but couldn't find her there; she'd actually been at the one the previous night, but here bike was there because she'd participated in a fun run between all four campuses (yes, there's a fourth one they're preparing to launch on the North Shore; there are so many things going on that I wish you could see).
Among other things, such as a popcorn booth where they would ordinarily be serving coffee before services (well, you couldn't expect them to be serving coffee at this hour of the evening), and the usual set of awards for exceptional service (including a lifetime achievement award for one lady who would regularly – by which I mean weekly – commute back and forth between the city campus and our location here in the far northwest to work with the Spanish-speaking community in both areas), they had brought in a performer to entertain us. Specifically, a magician. Well, actually, there was also an opening ventriloquism act as well, but it was something of a surprise addition; although it was done impressively well, given that none of us knew that Pastor Scott had that talent – or that Junior made for such a perfect dummy.
Anyway, you might have recognized the fellow who they brought in, as he'd worked with the church before, performing both in person (because he likes to prove that his tricks aren't camera or editing tricks) and in a series of pre-recorded bumpers for a sermon series on miracles a few years back. Not that he considers what he does to be such, or even actual magic; like most stage magicians, he makes it clear that what he does are in fact illusions or sleight of hand. This is a skill, a talent, borne out of some combination of natural ability and practice, and not some actual power – not to mention the odd rigged prop.
One of the latter appeared to be a Rubik's cube with an internal spring works, that supposedly would undo the last twenty or so turns instantaneously – although with a little misdirection and sleight of hand, he made it look as if he could solve it with a snap of his fingers. It was really quite the impressive feat, although he was selling the cubes at a booth after the show, so presumably, anyway could do the same with a little practice.
Similarly, he performed a series of curious card tricks, involving either determining the number of cards that would be in a person's pocket after he'd had them pull an indeterminate amount off of the deck (and the number would grow several times throughout the course of the trick, without him appearing to add anything to the person's pile), or having a set of pre-written guesses as to the number of cards that would be either face up or down after having four volunteers cut the deck and shuffle cards back into it either up or down. The capper of that trick was when, after getting all his predictions correct, he asked his last volunteer as to whether there was anything familiar about the pattern of the remaining ten cards that were facing up; they turned out to be her phone number.
Considering that I have several zeroes in mine, it's a good thing I wasn't selected to wrap that particular trick up. More on that in a moment.
But while he talked from time to time about the fact that he didn't really have magic powers or anything like that, he did have a certain subtle magical ability about him. Maybe it's part of the whole gift of being an entertainer, but for just a few moments, he could turn any one of us, at seemingly random, into performers in our own right.
You must know, crowds like this are not my scene, and even less so Daniel's. The staff makes a point of gathering around the various entrances to the church and cheering as each volunteer enters on a night like this. Even as we watched someone else enter just ahead of us, we decided to slip in via an unlocked side door and go upstairs to the lobby by a obscure and unmanned stairwell (one that, ironically, used to be the main stairwell for entering and exiting the church back in the day, when we were so much younger, and the place had yet to be remodeled). That sort of fuss and adulation is not something either of us felt like dealing with.
But when this fellow walked into the audience to look for volunteers to assist him with his tricks, and picked me for a brief cameo, I found myself going along with it without hesitation (well, at least once I realized he was asking me to help him; I wasn't sure of that at first). After getting me to stand up and shake his hand, he asked if I could be his friend (it's his schtick; he keeps count as he goes along through his show, although he skips a lot of numbers along the way), and then promptly sat down in my seat next to Daniel.
"You don't mind if I take a quick rest here, do you?" Meanwhile, I'm standing in the aisle, wondering what he wants me to do next.
And here's where it gets weird; I offer to do some magic for him: "Do you want me to do something? I could disappear right now, if you'd like." I wasn't seriously considering it, but it occurred to me at that moment that I could probably ask Mike to kill the lights, just long enough for me to bolt for the back of the auditorium and out the door. Given the momentary awkwardness of my current situation, that might have been preferable. However, I said it with enough flippancy to make it sound like a joke, like it was all part of the night's entertainment.
At that point, however, he got back up, asked me to choose a number between one and ten, and returned to the trick, which was part of the one I mentioned earlier, where he was increasing the number of cards in another volunteer's pocket by the amount, chosen by myself and another person drawing a random card from his deck. When the other person drew an ace, he tried to tally up the two numbers, and kept coming up with the same number seven that I'd offered to him, when the total should have been eight. He must've asked me three times whether I'd said 'six' or 'seven,' and I confirmed seven every single time. I'm sure that be the misdirection involved in this trick had to do with that confusion, and I find myself wondering at this point what would've happened if I simply shrugged my shoulders, and went along with him; "yeah, sure, six, whatever." Or maybe he was counting on me to steel my resolve that the number I'd chosen was, in fact, seven. I really couldn't say.
The most unique of his acts was one in which he invited three volunteers to sit in what appeared to be three stools, each draped and completely hidden by a large dropcloth. After showing them a bag filled with various paint samples (and having one of them pull out a few to illustrate what they were), he had each of them draw out one, show the color to the audience, and stand up as he lifted the dropcloth to reveal that the stool was painted in that exact same color. The real kicker to this is that the final volunteer had drawn a 'clear coat' spread, which had him supposedly puzzled as to what a coat of that would look like on a stool – I murmured to Daniel that it would probably look bare wood, but with a glossy coat like varnish. Imagine everyone's surprise when the reveal showed no visible stool at all, as if it had been painted the color 'clear.'
By doing so, our magician friend had essentially managed to do what he set out to from his banter with the three volunteers at the start of the trick. He had asked them what they would like to do if they had godlike ("small 'g,'" he emphasized) powers. In a remarkable (and, I'll admit, hilarious) example of the effects of conformity and peer pressure on the teenage mind (each of these particular volunteers were either middle or high schoolers), once the first one expressed the desire to be able to fly, the other two basically said the same thing. Really? Nothing like being able to stop or travel in time, invisibility, invulnerability or immortality? Daniel suggested the idea of being able to portal anywhere in the world; that would be a fantastic power. But no, all these kids wanted to do was fly. It struck me as funny that they couldn't come up with anything else – although I was grateful yet again that I hadn't been chosen, as I would probably have cast a bit of a pall over the proceedings with my answer (and you know both what and why). But the magician said he would like to create a new color – and I suppose, by turning the stool invisible (or disappearing it – it's almost as puzzling as to what he did as much as how he did it), he kind of did just that.
After the show, Daniel and I picked up all the cards he had left on the stage (like we do with bulletins in the seats at the end of every service) and returned them to him at his booth. I don't know if that made an impression on him or not, but I doubt it's something he would have expected. Then again, sometimes you can't take the volunteer out of the volunteer.
Anyway, that's all for last night, and today is likely to be slow. I'll talk to you again when I have news; until then, keep an eye on us, and wish us luck. We're going to need it.
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