From our weekly issue dated July 9, 2008

Some of us are big hams, never hesitating to face a crowd of some sort, whether to speak or perform. Ye olde editor is a chip off the ol’ hambone, although no longer the sort who enjoys standing before a live, possibly hostile audience. No, I’m now the sort of show-off who struts his stuff in the form of words on newsprint.

If cornered, I will speak, but I’d really rather be able to send an e-message or write a story.

The reason this topic came to my sweaty palms and palpitating heart is because of serving as moderator during a forum for the candidates seeking the office of county sheriff. It’s not a task I “enjoyed,” although it seemed to come off OK.

In my extremely younger days, I was definitely a show-off. I had no fear. My mom used to tell the story of losing me in a department store in San Diego when I was like 3 or 4. When she found me, I was standing on a clothing riser singing, “You Are My Sunshine” to a crowd of amused adults. However, I got spanked for wandering off. (Off from my mother; not for being off-key.)

In the first grade at Chesterton Elementary School, our class put on a play about trains. I was the engine, leading the presentation, and it didn’t bother me in the least. How I developed stage fright, I don’t know, but I think it has something to do with “growing up” and becoming concerned about how others see us.

In the eighth-grade at St. Rita’s all I had to do was walk on stage carrying a chair, turn to the audience, and say, “Yes, that was St. Joseph.” The rehearsals went well, except when I was showing off for three girls and walked into a concrete pillar. But on The Night, when I turned and saw the audience -- all those staring eyeballs -- I choked. I panicked. Couldn’t remember what I was supposed to say. Stood there gasping like a fish out of water. Fled the stage in the wrong direction. Awful.

Call it stage fright, fear, panic, nerves, or nervousness, many of us have it. Or all of them. We get the jitters and are apprehensive. Sometimes we tremble or experience nausea. Our throat dries up; tongue feels like a hunk of cotton. Yikes.

Some folks will tell you to think of the audience as being naked to relieve the nervousness. Actually, I did that once, and they really were naked. It was at a nudist colony.

When I worked for NCR Corp. in San Diego, I often had to lead tours through the computer assembly plant, or give talks at schools and to various organizations. I think I just got used to it, and realized that it was simply part of the job. It had to be done. Although, sometimes there were confrontations from disagreeable types, and those incidents did cause excess perspiration. But I survived.

So there you have it: The editor is basically a shy guy, especially in front of strangers. But if you’re a familiar friend, watch out: my ham-boniness will come out, and who knows what will escape from my mouth. There might even be a rendition of, “You Are My Sunshine.”

(Editor Bob’s Note: The preceding first ran in the Noose on March 15, 2006).