�The wise men brought gifts to the baby Jesus: gold, frankincense and myrrh.�

That was my line in the annual 14th Ward Christmas pageant. That�s all I had to say. One simple, declarative sentence about the gifts of the magi.

Never mind that it is historically inaccurate (the magi probably didn�t arrive on the scene until some time after Jesus was born, when he was more of a �young child� than a �baby�). It was my line, my moment in the spotlight, and I was prepared to milk it for all it was worth.

I became especially excited about my line after our first rehearsal. I mistakenly pronounced the gifts as �gold, Frankenstein and mirth,� and had the whole cast in hysterics. It was an honest mistake — I really DID think it was Frankenstein and mirth, along with the gold. To a 10-year-old boy they seemed like pretty cool gifts. But everyone thought I was just being funny, and I became something of a folk hero on the set — the goofy kid who said �Frankenstein� instead of �frankincense.� Every time I came out on stage people paused to listen. They wanted to hear it if I messed it up again.

And I did — just to be funny. Several times.

But I knew better than to say �Frankenstein� during the actual performance of the pageant. For one thing, Paul, the teenager playing Joseph, threatened to beat me up if I did. And for another, Gayle, my fourth grade girlfriend, was going to be there. And nobody likes to look like a goofball in front of his girlfriend. You know what I mean?

So I walked around backstage repeating the word �frankincense� over and over again. Not only was I going to say it correctly, but I was going to say it with style. �Frankincense� was going to roll off my tongue like I actually knew what it was . . . which I didn�t. But that wasn�t the issue. The issue was saving myself from a beating and making myself look good in front of Gayle. And all that would be required was a well-spoken, multi-syllable word that sounded an awful lot like �Frankenstein.�

But wasn�t.