Read Forever the Fat Kid: How I Survived Dysfunction, Depression and Life in the Theater Online
Authors: Michael Boyd
Forever the Fat Kid: How I Survived Dysfunction, Depression and Life in the Theater (27 page)
“Nobody Knows the Inside?”
“Yeah, by Ashford and Simpson. Do you know it?”
Of course I knew it. But why would that particular song remind her of me?
“Have you ever listened to the words? It could be your theme song.” And she began speaking the lyrics:
Nobody knows the inside…
That’s where all your little secrets hide
Nobody knows the inside…
Maybe you, you got too much pride
“Well, maybe,” I said. “but you know me.”
“Do I?” she prodded.
“Well, better than most people.” I answered. She threw out some more lyrics, singing them this time:
Nobody knows the inside…
I ain’t got no magic mirror
Nobody knows the inside…
That’s why I can’t get no nearer
Then she added, “If I know you, then you must be a total stranger to everybody else!” and started to laugh. In the honesty of the moment, I had to agree that she was right. I don’t often let people know the real me. Despite the fact that it was a necessary survival tactic over the years, I had spent a great deal of my life keeping many aspects of myself under wraps. Although I had managed to share each part of me with someone, I had never shared all the parts of me with anyone; hadn’t even come close. And although I don’t advocate allowing yourself, or your life, to be an open book, I was decidedly more deceptive than the ordinary person about who I was. I had truly mastered, over the course of a lifetime, the art of the façade. It wasn’t intentional; it was a defense mechanism. And while there’s a certain allure to being “mysterious,” if taken to the extreme it can lead to a very lonely existence. And who wants to be lonely? Yes, it’s difficult deciding who it is that we should let into our lives and our hearts, but to keep everyone at arm’s length is hardly the solution.
Everything about life, just like life itself, is temporary; jobs, friendships, relationships, tastes, opinions, feelings, emotions…everything. As I approach the fifty year mark, I have no idea how much more life, as we know it, I have left to live. I only hope that whatever time I do have left is just as wild, crazy, sad, funny, and theatrical as the part that I’ve already lived through. And, hopefully, from here on out I’ll be able to feel and experience it to the fullest because, as I see it, any amusement park without a white-knuckle, heart-in-your-throat, adrenalin-boosting rollercoaster just isn’t worth going to.
Finally, without bringing down the mood here, allow me to speak of one more death. Somewhere along the way–I’m not quite sure when–the title character of this book, the fat kid, went on to meet his maker. One of my pet peeves is hearing people falling over themselves to praise an individual after he or she has died, proclaiming them to have been some sort of living embodiment of perfection. It’s so hypocritical. This is especially true if the person, when living, was of questionable character and integrity to begin with. If we are honest with ourselves, there are people who can only be accurately described as “assholes.” And nothing they do–including dying–is going to change that. However, that’s not the case with the fat kid. In many ways, this book is his eulogy, and no amount of praise or adulation can come close to expressing how special he was. He was single-handedly responsible for all that is good in my life today. And though I can’t say for sure that he is in a better place, I know that I certainly am because of him. And, believe me, he will be the first person that I thank in my acceptance speech should I ever win that damn Tony Award!
MY SINCERE THANKS TO…
All of my Family and Friends
for putting up with my quirks, peculiarities, and special needs without complaint–and for allowing me borrow, steal and otherwise extrapolate from your lives in an attempt to document my own. Your unconditional love has been your greatest gift.
Wilma Samuels
, who was instrumental in helping to fill many of the gaps in my life story. I hope you know that you are so much more than just a cousin to me.
Leonard Joseph
, for not only insisting that I sit down and write this book, but for encouraging and supporting me along the way as only a friend can.
Everyone who took the time to read my early drafts, but especially
Zella Geltman
,
Pam Guerrieri
,
Philanda Hopkins
,
Alan Natale
and
Roger Ortega
whose guidance, feedback and suggestions proved invaluable.
And, of course,
Ruthie
and
Jamesie
for allowing me to exist at all. I love and miss you always.