News reached me yesterday evening that Marcel Marceau had passed away at the age of eighty-four. I had been telling someone how Marceau was a 'friend' of mine only a few weeks ago.
The story of our 'friendship' is a funny one.
When I was younger my Father would write letters to celebrities and ask for autographs on my behalf. We had an abundance of replies. Enough to fill two photograph albums. One of the first batch of responders was the mime artist.
He dedicated the picture to my name and opened it with 'to my dear friend.' I was only five or six at the time so I thought the clown in the picture really was a friend of mine,
Not so long after that I was in town with my family and saw a mime artist dressed like Marceau in the middle of the street doing an act. I really did think it was him and shouted over to him and waved. He responded with a wave of his own. The clone was unaware that he really was helping the original.
A year after the initial autograph was sent to me I got another one. This time it was dated '1985' and was once again written to me. My father had only written the one letter to him but my address had obviously stayed with him. He was the only celebrity in my autograph book to appear twice.
In recent years Marcel Marceau would become one of my favourite analogies for being ignored. I would comment that 'It's like having a conversation with Marcel Marveau speaking to you.' Whenever someone was being quiet. Every time I use this expression I think back to my childhood and of that boy who believed the clown was his mate.
Au revoir, friend.
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