Lo, Please Exit Stage Right

In 1987, my family got its first video camera. Suddenly, our collection of still photos - those that illustrate Christmases and Birthdays, Bartlett Street and St. Edmund's, Quincy and McMurray - progressed into motion, leaving us with the words and actions that preceded and followed the pose. Suddenly, our young personalities came to life on the screen, enriching our memories.

On Thanksgiving, we brought out the very first home video - a compilation actually, of several shorter videos that span '87 and '88. My brother, sister and I had watched this VHS countless times, laughing and confirming what we already knew. But Peter had never been privy to it. So we had a viewing.

It wasn't just the champagne talking - The hairdos, the conversations, the time Aunt Kay called someone a 'Jagoff,' my winking and blinking show, the chin-up scene, and my brother taking a bite of a cookie and throwing it back on the plate were all cause for raucous laughter.

I don't have a digital version of the video, but to paint the picture ... take this photo:

And then add the before and after. Most likely, I would have pushed my adorable brother and sweet sister out of the way, put my leg warmers on, and started doing a song and dance. My dad would have told me to stop and get back into position. Fine. Click. Following, I would have resumed my attention mongering, fighting for center stage, posturing to be the most talented one, playing the role that the middle child theory predicts.

This week, I started thinking about that video and five year-old me on camera. Although me now and me then are decades apart, the imaginary spotlight is still in the fabric of my being. The goal is to be the best - the most - the biggest - the loudest at everything, of all the people in my circle. It's like I believe I've entered a never-ending talent show and I've signed up to do every act in it. And I, judge and participant, always get the blue ribbon.

Over the past couple years though, I've found more and more exhaustion in striving for first place. Mostly, because I've recognized the abundance of talent around me - the people and their products that hands down, win. This week alone, I stumbled on a friend's magnificent photography, another friend's artwork, and publicity in Vanity Fair for another friend's amazing doughnut cookbook (of which I have a signed copy.) Although, I love thinking that I'm such a creative and such a chef, I have friends that do it way better.

During one scene in the home video, my brother walks toward the camera to ask my Dad, the videographer, a question. I in turn, walk up to him, literally cover his mouth and push him away to seize center stage. The camera immediately shuts off. Game over. Had I let my brother finish his query, it might have been something remarkable, something incredibly sweet or the funniest part of the show. It made me wonder how many other people I've silenced in my loud pursuit for number one, and what great things they might have said.

In this week before Christmas, during the time of year when the most magnificent things happened on the most silent nights, I'm going to be a little quieter and more aware of the small voices that have big things to say.

I'll start with my Veal Parmesan last night. It was good, but yours will be always be the best, Dad.

Lo.