209did it on tape and sent it to songwriter and comedian
Fred Knipe. I did it in front of my friend Kathy. I made
my children sit quietly and watch me do it over and over.
Each time, I was scared, my heart was pounding and I
hyperventilated. But each time it got easier and better.
Finally the day of the class arrived. I took the day
off from work to rehearse this little three-minute piece
all day. When class time arrived, I was extremely ner-
vous, but not deeply panicked. In my life, there’s a big
and welcome difference.
Judy Rollings asked for volunteers to perform their
monologues, and as each “experienced” actor got up to
do theirs, I gained confidence. I could see that they, too,
were very nervous. They were acting in front of peers,
which is sometimes harder than before a normal audi-
ence. They were blowing their lines and, in embarrass-
ment, asking to start over. Some of their voices were a
little shaky. I was encouraged. Finally, with just one or
two of us left to go, I volunteered and walked slowly to
the front of the room.
What happened then is something I’ll never forget.
As I went to the front of the room, just before I turned
around to face the teacher and class, a voice in my mind
spoke to me, and it said only one word: Showtime.
With a surprising surge of energy, I delivered my
piece. My voice soared up and hit the dramatic points
and dropped down to emphasize the subtle lines and
the parts that I gave a funny interpretation to were
drawing huge laughs from the class. When I was fin-
ished, I looked back up and saw that the whole class
had burst out clapping—something Judy had told them
not to do for anybody.
When I drove home that night, I was in heaven. I
kept reciting my monologue out loud, reveling in the
Walk with love and death