Your varied adventures never cease to amaze me (and your cataloging process for stories—creating your own app for that purpose—I mean, who does that?). But it perfectly explains your passion for storytelling and your gift for encouraging others to share their own.
While I can’t begin to rival your Barnum Circus Show experience, your story did—just as you suggested—stir up a memory of my own: a time I joined an improv group in Brazil.
Not being fully fluent in Portuguese at the time, I took on the role of a physical comedian, using my unusually skinny frame (6'2", 140 lbs back then) to my advantage. I volunteered to be the foil to the heroic figure in our performances—he was strong, daring, and handsome, while I was the one who tried to bring down a villain only to end up flat on the floor. I was regularly tossed about between characters or sent flying out a set-piece window—to the delight and laughter of the audience.
After the first few shows, people began to chant for my character’s entrance. They’d lovingly given me a stage name: Pateta Magro—“the skinny fool.”
When the crowd started clapping and stomping, calling for Pateta Magro, I’d step onto the stage and the performance hall would erupt in cheers and laughter, everyone waiting for my next foolish move—one that would inevitably end with me being hurled across the room or through a paper wall.
That unexpected adventure helped me free myself from the decades-old shackles I’d carried from being bullied. Through that experience, I realized I could step out of my painfully shy self—even if just for an evening. Over time, I learned that if I could reinvent my persona in one simple performance, I could, with practice, carry that freedom beyond the stage.
So thank you, Rick—your story stirred up a tale I’d almost forgotten, one that made me smile as I remembered the laughter, the camaraderie, and the sheer joy of those moments when my castmates and our audience helped me break free from my shell.
Your "Barnum" story *alone* had me on pins and needles; given how new you were to the production, I'm puzzled how you didn't panic and go into vapor lock back stage. Talk about grace under pressure.
Yet you position this engaging recollection in a way that illustrates how your storytelling process, assisted mightily by your new app, All My Stories, can work for anyone with a story to tell.
Nightmare indeed... I'm not an actor but I've had those scriptless dreams... and you've lived it, and lived to tell the tale. Forced out to the end of the bough and hearing it creak or crack... these are great stories, Rick. I hope you get fully subscribed to this story course... it sounds highly valuable.
Your varied adventures never cease to amaze me (and your cataloging process for stories—creating your own app for that purpose—I mean, who does that?). But it perfectly explains your passion for storytelling and your gift for encouraging others to share their own.
While I can’t begin to rival your Barnum Circus Show experience, your story did—just as you suggested—stir up a memory of my own: a time I joined an improv group in Brazil.
Not being fully fluent in Portuguese at the time, I took on the role of a physical comedian, using my unusually skinny frame (6'2", 140 lbs back then) to my advantage. I volunteered to be the foil to the heroic figure in our performances—he was strong, daring, and handsome, while I was the one who tried to bring down a villain only to end up flat on the floor. I was regularly tossed about between characters or sent flying out a set-piece window—to the delight and laughter of the audience.
After the first few shows, people began to chant for my character’s entrance. They’d lovingly given me a stage name: Pateta Magro—“the skinny fool.”
When the crowd started clapping and stomping, calling for Pateta Magro, I’d step onto the stage and the performance hall would erupt in cheers and laughter, everyone waiting for my next foolish move—one that would inevitably end with me being hurled across the room or through a paper wall.
That unexpected adventure helped me free myself from the decades-old shackles I’d carried from being bullied. Through that experience, I realized I could step out of my painfully shy self—even if just for an evening. Over time, I learned that if I could reinvent my persona in one simple performance, I could, with practice, carry that freedom beyond the stage.
So thank you, Rick—your story stirred up a tale I’d almost forgotten, one that made me smile as I remembered the laughter, the camaraderie, and the sheer joy of those moments when my castmates and our audience helped me break free from my shell.
Epic story, Chris.
Your "Barnum" story *alone* had me on pins and needles; given how new you were to the production, I'm puzzled how you didn't panic and go into vapor lock back stage. Talk about grace under pressure.
Yet you position this engaging recollection in a way that illustrates how your storytelling process, assisted mightily by your new app, All My Stories, can work for anyone with a story to tell.
And *everyone* has a story to tell.
Super job on this one, Rick.
* I felt every beat of that backstage panic and the quiet heroism of your castmates guiding you through.
Amazing! What an athlete you were and still are.
I can’t imagine your adrenaline that night.
As Larry said, this is such a great illustration of how to tell a story following your own guidelines you also shared here.
What an eventful life!
Nightmare indeed... I'm not an actor but I've had those scriptless dreams... and you've lived it, and lived to tell the tale. Forced out to the end of the bough and hearing it creak or crack... these are great stories, Rick. I hope you get fully subscribed to this story course... it sounds highly valuable.
Thank you, Rick. I value your work and advice.
Very vivid... you put us right there with you..