That time when I lost my innocence
November 13th
I lost my innocence numerous times over the years. It usually happens when I find out that reality is not what it appears to be. Or when the reality is not what it should be. Or when the reality is not what I was told it would be. Or when someone I trusted hurt me — by leaving me or rejecting me or degrading me. But that is a whole different story. This story is about me and how and when I stopped to believe in magic.
I was about seven years old. I was spending a couple of weeks with my aunt, who was and is an actress in a Puppet Theatre. She took me to see a play — “The Wizard of Oz” — where she was playing Dorothy. I think it was my first ever time in a theater. She sat me down in the audience before the play and told me to stay there until the end, when she will come and get me. And then the magic started.
I was spellbound, I couldn't believe my eyes. The colors and music, the ever-changing scenery. The characters — especially Toto and Cowardly Lion for me — singing and dancing and solving all the problems. I was screaming at the Wicked Witch of the West (with all other children, I might add) to leave Dorothy alone, and was screaming out of fear when the Flying Monkeys appeared. I was so happy when Dorothy and Toto finally made it back home. The fact I still remember it so vividly is the best testimony to how this play embedded itself in my memory.
Then after lunch, there was a reprise show. This time my aunt sat me to the side of the backstage, and told me not to move or speak and interfere with everybody there and just watch the play from behind the curtains. She asked the young women who were playing the Flying Monkeys to keep an eye on me — which was a little disturbing since I was scared of them and yet, they appeared so stunningly pretty in the costumes and the makeup. And then I watched the play unfold from a point of view not many people can experience.
I watched the organized chaos that is a part of performing a play. I saw how the scenery is moved to appear that characters are walking or flying. I saw how when on the stage Dorothy and her friends are walking on the yellow brick road, backstage the Emerald City is being moved into a position to be pushed onto the stage when needed. I saw a Wizard of Oz just walking by talking to Flying Monkeys and then having a cheeky cigarette on the side. I saw the revolving scene moved on clue by a couple of guys in overalls. And then I saw that the same woman was playing the Wicked Witch of the West and Princess Ozma. She would just quickly change her clothes backstage and from an old and ugly witch, she would become a beautiful princess…
I guess that is magic as well — changing appearance to become somebody else. But I wasn't thinking about that then. I felt something, a change in perception, how the same thing can appear so different from two points of view. Of course, I was too young to understand it or to even verbalize it. I simply knew that the magic that is seen on the stage requires a lot of hard work, and that was a secret that was revealed to me. And only to me. I think I pretended to believe in magic for some time afterward, but in reality, I was happy that I possessed that secret knowledge. And I kept my mouth shut, so my younger siblings could believe in magic longer than it was given to me.
