I Sort of Did It

It has taken over 60 years, but I finally mustered the courage and did it. I’ve spent almost a lifetime watching other people do it and wishing I could be like them but wishing to be someone else is generally not a good thing. I learned that God wants us to be ourselves, not another Moses. I said to my wife, “I’m about to do something I wanted to do forever.” Without even asking, she said, “Do it.” That’s trust. But being about to do something is still not the same as doing it. We’ve all seen someone balancing on the tip of a diving board and then climbing back down. 

“Come on, Mark, what the hell did you do?” I feel slightly ashamed because many of you will think this is not a biggie. But have you ever wanted to do something forever and not done it? Courage is a very odd thing. In some areas, I have tremendous courage, and in others, I have zilch. For me, each day my courage buckets need to be refilled.

I had been doing pushups for months, then one day I lost the courage to continue. I thought and believed the idea that I didn’t have the strength. Not the slightest bit true. I had more than enough strength. Yet I went weeks without doing a single pushup.

I can’t tell you how many panic attacks I’ve had before shows and performed despite my fear. I have done so many things in life with courage that I never knew I had. 

Remember the courage it took to ask someone out on a date? Then rebuilding that courage to do it again after being turned down? One explanation of courage is the ability to do something that frightens you, and that’s me. I can’t tell you how many panic attacks I’ve had before shows and performed despite my fear. I have done so many things in life with courage that I never knew I had. 

But this thing was different. When I was very young, my mother frightened me about doing this thing, and I remained frightened for 60-plus years. Writing two books was less frightening than  doing this. I have been aware of this fear forever. Being aware of something is a start, but not the solution.

Before I tell you what it is, let me give you a few hints. Chefs do it, Ice Cream truck drivers, Marines, Pilgrims in Islam, and the Shinto religion of Japan all do it. Coal miners never do it. New Yorkers that ride the subway never should. 

Before I tell you what it is, let me give you a few hints. Chefs do it, Ice Cream truck drivers, Marines, Pilgrims in Islam, and the Shinto religion of Japan all do it. Coal miners never do it. New Yorkers that ride the subway never should. 

If you still haven’t guessed, I bought white pants. And I mean WHITE. My heart just raced while writing those words.

When I was a child, I wore white shirts, white socks, white tee shirts, and white briefs, but I never wore white pants. I always wanted white pants, but my mother, being my personal shopper, would never buy them for me. (Except for a protective cup for sports, I don’t remember my father ever buying me any form of apparel). 

The mere thought of me in white pants gave my mother agita. Agita is an Italian word even Yiddish speakers use. “You’re a slob. You’ll ruin them.” “Learn to use a napkin, and I’ll get you white pants.” She was right. I never did learn how to use a napkin. Her words scared me. Every time I’d see someone walk by in white jeans, cords, or khakis, I’d think, “Are they crazy? Where is their mother? Suppose they stain them?”

So now you know. I ordered a pair of white pants on Amazon. White pants are one of the great filth magnets of all time, and I bought a pair.

Coming home, I found a soft package on my doorstep. I took it to the dining room table and tore into it, practically ripping it open with my white teeth. And there they were, the whitest pants you’ve ever seen. I might even call them Blinding White. I put them on faster than a twelve-year-old getting into a bathing suit. I then ran to a full-length mirror and looked at them on me. I knew the second I saw them that they did not fit and that I needed to return them. I carefully took them off and put them back in the plastic bag so they would not get dirty. Will I reorder a new pair? Stay tuned.

Mark Schiff is a comedian, actor and writer, and host of the ‘You Don’t Know Schiff’ podcast. His new book is “Why Not? Lessons on Comedy, Courage and Chutzpah.”