Fireworks

It's no secret that the United States is the greatest country in the history of Earth, and that our founding fathers showed immense wisdom in setting up a system designed to safeguard freedom and enable opportunities for all. As the anniversary of our independence draws near, it is tempting to spend a little time discussing the myriad reasons I'm proud to be an American...and it's equally tempting to delineate my concerns about the way our elected representatives have let us down in recent years. It is clear that for many of them, values such as excellence, strength, leadership, and liberty are no longer important -- having been superseded by the idea that the government always knows what's best and has the right to make all your decisions for you.

So, it would be easy to jump up on my soapbox and rant about these things...but I won't. At least not today. Instead, I think I'll talk a little bit about magic.

I don't remember exactly how it started, but I became interested in magic around the time I was in the Cub Scouts. I remember being amazed when my Uncle Virgil (who I later found out wasn't really my uncle -- but that's another story) would pull a penny out of my ear, and later being astounded by the card tricks performed by a kid named Al, who was living in my granddad's basement when I visited for a week one summer.

[Pardon my diversion, but isn't it fascinating how many things you accepted with no problem as a youth, but later question as an adult? Or is it just me? I was in my 30s before I actually asked anyone to explain why Uncle Virgil didn't show up anywhere on our family tree. Or why Herbert Everett Bevan, Jr. went by the name "Bob." Or why there was some card sharp kid living in my granddad's basement that summer. I still don't know the answer to that one; I think it was some sort of farm-worker apprenticeship, but I really have no idea. And perhaps most puzzling of all -- I was perfectly happy for years thinking that my dad's career title of "engineer" meant that he drove a train, and that the company he worked for (Boeing) was named after the sound made by a bouncing spring.]

I started with the standard entry-level tricks, doing some minor sleight-of-hand with coins along with a few card tricks. My dad had a buddy who was in a magician's club (the Wizards of Wichita), and was able to get me accepted into their kids' spinoff, which I think was called the Junior Wizards. (OK, that's probably not accurate. Knowing the powerful appeal of alliteration, we were probably called the "Wee Wizards" or something equally obnoxious.) There I learned a few tricks with ropes, hankies, and torn-up newspapers. When I finally graduated to levitating orbs, disappearing milk, and pulling a rabbit out of a hat, I was ready to perform in public.

My dad bought me a top hat and painted a dowel stick to look like a wand. Adopting the stage name "Terrific Terry" (another alliterative appellation, of course), I did shows for relatives, Scout groups, church get-togethers, and even a birthday party or two. And somewhere along the way, I decided to collaborate with my Scout buddy, Jeff Hammond. Jeff was my right-hand man in the Black Widows Patrol, and became my successor as Patrol Leader when I moved on to the Senior Patrol as Troop Bugler. We combined our individual acts and wrote exotic dialog to accompany our ever-more-complex feats of prestidigitation. We thought we were pretty entertaining as well as mystifying.

We actually made some money, but not enough to keep other interests from eventually breaking up the act. Jeff became an excellent musician, and took up acting in school plays. I became more involved in swimming. By the time we got to high school, the suitcase full of magic props had been stowed away and mostly forgotten. Jeff went to a different college than I did, and I didn't see him again for 40 years.

But last week, I had a chance to reconnect with my old friend. It turns out that he lives nearby, and was able to meet me for lunch. We had a great conversation, and learned that our lives contained many parallel pathways. He had also become a video guy, a teacher, and an adult athlete. He competes in cycling rather than swimming, but we have ridden many of the same hills in training. It was really good to catch up with him after all that time.

I know this will disappoint many of you, but I have to be honest. As of right now, we have no plans to resurrect the magic act. Sorry.

But this IS America, after all, and people are still free to pursue their dreams. You never know.

No matter, what, though, I hope you all have a wonderful Independence Day. If you have a chance to reconnect with an old friend, by all means do so. Be careful with fire, but do enjoy your celebratory festivities, whatever they might be. And have a great day!