Day 6. I see famous people.

I'm the most staunch reader of People Magazine there might ever be or have been. When Mama hands me an armful of her pre-read magazines, she often says, "Don't let these clutter your space, just skim 'em and pitch 'em." I can "skim" Southern Living and Vanity Fair. I can pick and choose my articles in Texas Monthly and Vogue. But, I READ People Magazine. Not so much am I a fan of other entertainment weeklies, but People and I get along.

I think I may have told you how I have this "Imaginary Dinner Party," guest list thing going on in my head. How I'd invite Julia and Barack and George W. and Hugh Grant and Brian Williams and the Pope and others ... and I think I know WHY I have this infatuation w/ People and The Famous.

It all goes back to Nashville, TN and The Peabody Hotel. We were pit-stopped there on a family road trip to Michigan. Mama collects hotels and hotel lobbies. And if those lobbies have ducks? PLUS!! I was almost 13, my brother almost 5. He was sweetly chubby and happy. I was on the verge of being ... well, a teenager. I missed my friends and just KNEW they would forget me while I was gone. My parents NEVER embarrassed me, like some may tell you their parents did, but had cell phones been invented, I fear I would've been face down in text for those four weeks. As it was, I was face down in a Word Find book or the KOA directory, searching for an RV campground with a pool AND arcade. Bliss.

We were either waiting for the ducks to enter the lobby or conclude their parade, and I remember the way Mama clutched my arm and sucked in air.

"Look!" she said thru her teeth. "Is that who I think it is?"
"WHO?" I asked. Secretly hoping my highest hopes that it WASN'T Shaun Cassidy because WHAT was I going to say to him???
"I think that's Alexander Godunov."
"WHO?"
"Well, you're coming with me!"

In as long as it took Mama to march me by the arm across the lobby, I caught wisps of explanation ... Russian defector ... ballet dancer ... dated Jacqueline Bisset ...
Mama dug paper and pen from her purse. (By the way, Mama, I love that red canvas purse in the photos. Great, great purse!)
"Excuse me sir ... are you Alexander Godunov?" Mama asked.

I can't remember if he answered. Did he speak English? Mama, did he answer? Mama spluttered something about being a fan. I smiled, like I had any clue, at his blond hair, chic white duds and his jaunty recline against the reception desk.

I remember feeling equal parts embarrassment and exhilaration. Embarrassment was NOT from Mama meeting The Famous. I was in such a shy state, that an introduction to anyone above my eye level was uncomfortable. I was exhilarated and enormously impressed that Mama RECOGNIZED The Famous. And, in her courteous manner, sought out The Famous with a polite "sir."

Whether or not they're considered "great," I've met Tom Landry in a San Marcos gas station. Michael Irvin in a Dallas restaurant. A governor who would be president. Ann Richards. Billy Gibbons. A governor who would be governor again and again. Others. Some I seek out. Others I leave alone.

And I'm always on the lookout for The Famous. Upon entering a crowded room or restaurant, one of my commands to those around me? "Look for famous people."

Friends, I promise I won't embarrass you.
I'll be polite.
I don't even need a picture.
I might just gaze from afar.
But there is a Sharpie in my purse just. in. case.
Mama and A. Godunov taught me to always be prepared.