The 18-year-old young woman walked into the office. She was nervous. Her hands were trembling.

Which was really saying something, because this was a young woman accustomed to being onstage. She wanted to become a serious actress someday.

In fact, that’s why she was here. Her teacher, Mrs. Ship, said she had real talent. Said she’d never seen an actress with such stage presence. Said she had flawless timing. She recommended the young woman visit the drama department director, Madame Pauleen Sherwood Townsend.

Madame Townsend sat behind her desk, reading glasses low on her nose. The woman peered over her spectacles at the rail-thin girl entering her office.

“You’re late,” said the woman, checking her clock. “By two minutes.”

“I’m sorry,” said the girl.

“What’s your name?”

“Everyone calls me Ophie, ma’am.”

“Sit down, Ophie.”

The girl sat. She tried to steady her quivering hands, but couldn’t. So, she sat on them.

“Mrs. Ship tells me you want to be an actress.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“What will you be reading for me?”

Young Ophie had prepared a reading. She’d memorized a selection from a classic work. She had rehearsed her piece so many times she could recite it in her sleep. She cleared her throat and began.

The old woman listened with eyes closed. But something was wrong. Terribly wrong. The woman’s eyes snapped open. Her facial muscles tightened. An expression of concern lit her face.

Madame Townsend stopped the girl mid-sentence. Ophie was not even halfway through.

“What on earth happened to your voice?” said the woman.

“My voice?”

“Your voice is horrid. You’ve strained it. How on earth did you ruin your voice like this?”

The color went out of the girl’s face. “Strained it?”

“Think, child. What have you done to your voice to destroy it so?”

“Destroyed it?”

Tears swelled behind young Ophie’s eyes. “I don’t know. I was a cheerleader in high school?”

“A cheerleader? Oh, for heavensake. We’re done here.”

The old woman rose from her chair. She told the young woman there was no way she would ever be an actress. Not with a ragged voice like that. To be an actress requires a purity of voice. Sorry. Please show yourself out. Thank you for visiting.

There was silence between them.

The young woman stammered. “But… I could do other roles.”

The madam shook her head. “I’m sorry. You’ll never be a celebrated woman of the stage with a raspy and shrill voice like that. Please leave the door open on your way out.”

And that was that.

Ophie shuffled out of the office. When she got to the sidewalk, she could hardly stand upright. The tears came. An 18-year-old’s confidence is a frail flower, easily choked if not watered.

For what is a young woman, if not her dreams? What is anyone if not their aspirations to find their true calling in this world? To lead a rich, full life and live to tell.

After Ophie had a good cry, she wiped her face and made a promise to herself. She promised she would never allow herself to be diminished again. She would never allow anyone to tell her what she couldn’t do.

Her name was Sarah Ophelia “Ophie” Colley. After she married, she changed her name to Sarah Cannon. But most people knew her best as Minnie Pearl.