Nothing Up My Sleeves            

After that party I remember staying up each night, trying to retrace the steps that had been taken up to the big reveal, the prestige as they called it. I don’t remember anyone near me except for other friends at the party, and I didn’t think they were good enough actors to be able to take the time to slip a random card into my pocket and then keep a straight face about it every time I asked them about it afterward. I don’t think any of the parents, or my parents were in on it. And if they were, when did they slip me the card? Way earlier in the day, and I just went through all the motions having no idea?

It gnawed at me for weeks, before I finally got an opportunity to get some information on it. See, in the eighties, it wasn’t unheard of for there to still be magic shops, and fortunately there was one downtown. I remember my mom mentioning that she needed to go grocery shopping, and so I begged her to take me with her and that I wanted to stop at the magic store. I don’t think she understood the level of importance it had to me, or simply thought it was just another random request, so she fortunately agreed, under the stipulation that I would have no more than fifteen minutes in the story. I quickly agreed and dove into my piggy bank to take out all of the birthday money I had stuffed in there for reasons just like this one.

When we made it to the store, I was in amazement. Trick packages, boxes of props, everything was lining walls, in aisles, and it was essentially all mine. There wasn’t another soul in the place with the exception of my mom and the shop keeper who looked like he was asleep through most of our visit. I went up and down every aisle, picking up items, reading them, and putting them back. My mom would periodically call out how much time I had left before we had to go, and my searching became ever more frantic. I couldn’t find the trick that the magician had pulled on me. Five minutes remained, then three, then one, and I was in a panic. I had in my hand a book that had a coin in a little plastic container crafted into the front cover, it said 101 Coin Tricks to Amaze.

With it being the only thing in my hand, I walked to the front and paid for it. Little did I know that this random and last second purchase would kick off a passion and set the rest of my life in order, it was just a book, just a coin, but it became so much more. And even now as I have that coin resting on the table beside my keyboard, it lingers as a lasting reminder of the birthplace of my future.

Who is Wade Boyd?            

Coming across this blog, there may be one preeminent thought in your mind, who is Wade Boyd, and why should I care? Just being honest. And in truth, that titular person is me, and the care factor should come about deepening on what it is you care about really. I am an individual with my own life story, twists and turns, and history like you, I just choose to take those stories and put them down to virtual page, exposing myself to the criticism of the masses, and I just like to write, it gives me a chance to waste some spare time in a way that I view as a little more productive than just sitting around trying to figure out how to spend my spare time. The reason though that I put up this blog, and decided to name it after myself, is to expose my alter ego. See, you may not know me by this name, but you may know me by my other name, Mr. Magic.

Ok, chances are you probably don’t know me by that name either, unless you happen to live in the Louisville, Kentucky area, and even then chances may be slim. In my mind though, I am a world famous magician, who has opened for queens, played for emperors, and dazzled audiences coast to coast with my mind bending illusions. Though the true story of the matter may be closer to getting partial attention from a bunch of grade school kids at a local birthday party as I wave a cape and top hat around like I stepped out of a bad cartoon. But, it’s something that I love to do, because you see, there’s always that one kid. That one kid who watches every move you make, and you see the gears turning in their head as they try to figure out how you made something impossible happen. Those are the kids I do these shows for, because one day, many years ago, I was that kid.

When my mom told me I was getting a magician for my eleventh birthday party, I was about as thrilled as an eleven year old would be. I wanted Ninja Turtles, and I was getting someone whose name started with the great, who probably wouldn’t be. Would he be able to throw my party pizza in the air, chop it up with samurai swords and have each piece land perfectly on my stunned party goers plates? I doubted it. And I was right, he couldn’t do that, and most of his show was pretty predictable, but his finale, his finale is what blow my childhood mind. Rather than the typical sawing someone in half routine, he performed a simple trick where he took a card from his hand, and made it appear in my pocket. To say I was stunned would be the understatement of my eleven years on earth, I was blown away, and determined to figure out how he did it.