INSPIRATIONAL
Jitters and
Stammers
Pam Ford Davis
I stand alone in the stifling wings;
craning my tension tightened neck, I
search expressionless faces of front
row patrons.
Tonight’s comedy warm up act might
be my big break. I dream of one day
seeing my name up in neon lights.
Inwardly, I am fear ridden with selfdoubt and feel rounds of nausea; the
audience will never suspect a thing.
“Ladies and Gentleman, please give a
warm Tennessee welcome to a
newcomer with a bright future-Ms.
Patsy Lynn!”
Intentionally, I trip as I saunter onto
stage in rhinestone-studded pink
cowboy boots. Waves of
spontaneous laughter feel like warm
embraces of affirmation.
“I’m worried! He said I have a bright
future. Why did he signal the stage
hand to dim the lights?”
A round of belly laughs lessens my
anxieties. They lean back in their
Opry seats, prepare to be
entertained, and I aim to please.
“A funny thing happened to me on
the way to the Ryman. I forgot my
pepper spray. No, seriously, it’s not
Music Row alley muggers that make
me nervous. It’s my competition!”
JASMINE'S PLACE
6