The Wizard.jpg

I’ve discovered a fun new hobby in revisiting some memories of my youth through the pop culture markers that framed them. Whether these memories are triggered by old songs, movies, television programs or books, it’s fascinating to take them in again a decade or two since they were the must see, hear, or read of their time.

It all started when I sat down to watch “The Wizard of Oz” and came away with a whole new take on the Hollywood classic. And who would expect to find any surprises when viewing a movie for the umpteenth time? Yet because my previous viewings of the film all took place when I was a child, I suppose I can chalk the reaction up to age.

The thing that struck me was that, back then, it was the Wicked Witch of the West and the flying monkeys who captured my imagination—most likely because they scared the bejesus out of me. Now, though, it’s The Wizard who’s become the one I think of when trying to fall asleep at night.

There’s just something that speaks to middle-aged me about the moment The Wizard is revealed to be an average man instead of the fearsome, legendary power monger he’d been billed to be.

Isn’t it funny what 30 years of perspective can do to a girl?

I have no doubt that my first sighting of The Wizard – the moment after he was stripped of his curtain – was to laugh out loud at the sad little man before me. Now I see a mere mortal just trying to live up to the hype that surrounds him.

I find this so interesting because I think we all have our wizards. They are the people we have just enough distance from to build up into characters even greater than what they portray in their resumes and bios. Sure, there are some real titans, like Oprah and Steve Jobs, who create something as close to Oz as we munchkins could imagine. But I am thinking about the people accessible enough to us that we might see them around town.

I recently had the opportunity to meet one of my wizards face to face. Her name is Ivory Madison and she is the founder and CEO of the Red Room, a social networking website I belong to that connects readers and writers. In the first year I blogged at the site, I regarded her with nothing short of awe. Her bio sat below her headshot and said far more than the obvious: “Not just a pretty face.”

Prior to founding the worldwide Red Room website, Ivory founded a “brick and mortar” writers’ society that’s regarded as part of San Francisco’s literary landscape. While managing her new venture, she also guest lectures at Stanford on the subject of new media. She’s also an attorney and accomplished jazz singer. And just to round things out, she has a multi-book contract with DC Comics to publish graphic novels with a feminist superhero protagonist.

To say that I would never have reached out to this woman is an understatement. It would have never actually even occurred to me to do so. I saw her accomplishments and subconsciously compared them to the lowlights of my own and felt very, very inferior.

As fate would have it -- after a year of being intimidated from afar -- I had the unique opportunity to be mentored by Ivory for an upcoming public reading at Litquake, San Francisco’s annual literary festival.

This, of course, meant that I, the Cowardly Lion, would have to follow the yellow brick road up Highway 101 to meet her. My fear, of course, was that she’d look me in the eye and be disgusted by my lack of courage. Or, worse yet, deem my writing unworthy of her time.

Determined to never say no to a growth opportunity, I rolled on my Clinical Strength Secret antiperspirant and hit the road. I might have even breathed into a paper bag before knocking on the door, but I will not confirm this so as to keep some semblance of dignity. Ivory opened the door. And you know what? The minute she did, she left the wizard’s booth I’d built for her in my mind.

But unlike the sad little man I first saw unveiled in the movie, I met a generous and genuine flesh-and-blood woman whom I, myself, had made into a wizard. This woman gave me some specific tips that improved my public reading and was utterly lovely to spend time with. But the real lesson she taught me was obviously even bigger.

The experience makes me wonder how many opportunities we all miss out on by building other people up while taking ourselves down. How many wizards do we keep at an arm’s distance who could help us grow as colleagues, neighbors or friends?

Here’s to unmasking those wizards and making the most out of this life.

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This column originally appeared in the Times Media family of newspapers, serving San Jose and its surrounding neighborhoods: Almaden, Cambrian, Willow Glen, Evergreen and Campbell.