by Heidi Anderson – Swan •

Motherhood prompted her to put up the wand, but would she return to the rabbit?

Could Melinda, a female magician, no longer 20, who has been off-stage for almost a decade, get a new show? Outside our boys’ first-grade classroom, daily, this conversation continued between her and me. At the beginning of my son’s year at a new school, I found myself waiting for dismissal, awkwardly disguising my “New Person” status by burying my head in my phone, pretending to read my e-mails. Then I looked up to see Melinda, a pretty blonde mom, smiling at me and acting like we knew each other, or at least like we should know each other. I’ll never remember what we talked about that day, but I do know that this first conversation was a deft slight of hand that single handedly made all of my feelings of being an outsider disappear.

My son, Nicholas, befriended her son, Mason. The boys would chase each other around as us moms lingered for a few minutes shading our faces with our big sun hats. Melinda had a way of chatting that can only be described as lilting and bright. Even if she was unhappy, sick, or in pain, she still conveyed it with a certain levity. It was such a relief to be able to commiserate with another mom who was honest about the struggles of life. But because of Melinda’s uplifting nature, every challenge seemed a bit easier, or at least somehow humorous, after we had a chance to talk about it.

We found that we had some things in common. We were both in our 40s, and we both had a background in entertainment: I was formerly an actress, and she had a long history of performing magic shows in Las Vegas. Having only been to Vegas once, I was completely oblivious to her venerated stature. At my son’s 7th birthday party, one of my friends, who has spent a lot of time in Vegas, recognized Melinda as The First Lady of Magic.  She said, “Heidi, she’s huge. I used to see her face all over the place in Vegas—on billboards, on buses, she’s famous!” And, indeed, it was true. Melinda headlined her own magic show in Las Vegas for several years before hanging up her wand and sequins (well, actually, she still wore sequins every day) to become a stay-at-home mom. At her home, Melinda showed me photos from “the day.“ She looked grand in gold lamé costumes, posing with exotic animals, and celebrities who came to see her act. And, yes, pictures of her face on a bus.

The other thing we had in common was that we both were full-time moms wanting to get back into entertainment in fields that are dominated by men. I was writing screenplays, and she was trying to find a way to do another show—either as a TV show or going back to Vegas. We both had ongoing stories of almost breaking through. For me, there were a few production companies that considered some of my spec scripts. For her, it was producers interested in her starring in a kids’ TV show, and then there was a wealthy investor who wanted to stage her comeback…next month. It was always next month.

In our boys’ second-grade class, Melinda was recruited to present at Career Week. There was no way I was going to miss out on this show so I grabbed my video camera and snuck in the back of the room. Melinda performed a couple of breezy magic tricks with the expected ease and finesse. What was unexpected for me was that when she played a DVD recording of some of her famous illusions, her lilting and bright aura was transformed into a poise that was unshakable and commanding. The First Lady of Magic made a race car disappear, she was shot through a cannon, and a large drill bore through her body and lifted her high above the stage. The kids were transfixed and delighted! Each one of her set pieces was staged with the highest caliber, and one was part of a televised Disney special. Melinda told the students that when she first started out as a magician, everyone said that she couldn’t succeed because magicians were men. But she decided that she was just going to ignore all of them, and she did it anyway and even achieved the title of Magician of The Year. She wanted the kids to know, especially the girls, that they could accomplish their goals regardless of what anyone says. Before that school year was finished, Melinda and her family had moved back to Las Vegas with the hopes that she would find a way to get back on stage. By the following Thanksgiving, Melinda had her own magic act in a Variety Show called “V—The Ultimate Variety Show” at Planet Hollywood. Her departure has left me sad, wishing my friend was still making me laugh outside our boys’ third-grade classroom; but her return to the stage is a stunning example of success in a field uncommon to women in their 40s. This feat, her rabbit out of the hat, has proved to be nothing short of inspiring—a gift of magic to me.

“First published in MORE Magazine”.