In my travels I have met quite a few interesting people.
When you work in the arts, it’s part of the world in which you work. On occasion its people you recognize but have no real sense of hero worship, more of an acknowledgement of their fame; i.e. I saw Dick Van Dyke working out in a gym once. Cindy Willliams (Laverne & Shirley) in a Farmer’s market. Etcetera.
Other times, I’ve come across people who actually make me stop and ponder my next move. Almost always, I end up whimpering out and worshipping from afar. And then regretting it for the rest of my life until I end up writing something about it. Like now.
Frequently, it’s the environment that offers you up such opportunities. I am referring to the International Festival of Authors in Toronto. I have been fortunate to have been invited there a few times, resulting in a few exceptional but shy encounters. Once, in the Green Room, I noticed famed author Ursula K. Le Guin standing between me and a bowl of chips. As a life long sci-fi fan and future sci fi writer, I was enamored. Needless to say, I didn’t work up the nerve to introduce myself. I regret it to this day. I did grab a handful of chips though.
At another similar event, everybody in the part was abuzz. Famed cultural appropriator & writer, W.P. Kinsella was there. He’d been in the news about such activities recently and when I walked into the party, some event organizers were afraid some sort of writer tussle might happen. Honestly, I would have loved to have a discussion and peek into his rationale but instead, I headed for the wine bar. And so on and so on and so one.
One time, my knees actually got week at such an encounter. It was in, of course, an airport. A friend and myself were on our way back from spending almost a month touring New Zealand and were changing planes in Vancouver. We were tired, homesick and desperate to get home. Bored, I noticed this woman walking across the waiting room. She was tall, stunning, dressed in an awesome black outfit, and had the kind of aura that demanded attention. I casually watched to saddle up to another man, in a long, amazing leather trench coat and cap, trying to appear inconspicuous while looking at his high tech Walkman (it was the 90’s).
I yawned and took a closer look. It was David Bowie, and his wife Iman. My jaw dropped. High point of the trip, I got to walk by him, two inches away, as we boarded the plane and he was in an aisle seat in first class. Special note: his Walkman looked more elaborate and expensive then my car does today.
Here are some people of note that I’ve been privileged to know over the years.
