Julian McMahon, my first celebrity crush. I discovered him in high school, and Di taped pictures of him all over the outside of her binder. It's too bad he's nearer my mother's age than mine. http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lc8gawXEFU1qbqnd3.jpg |
http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mezmaVo3-iY/TcDfIqAxQHI/AAAAAAAAAiY/ RNkHL5KXw4U/s1600/05-05-11-iraglasspic.jpg |
But, on that long drive, I finally came up with an answer. If I could pick anyone to have dinner with in real life, real time, not past, future, or fiction, I would pick Ira Glass. I've already mentioned my love for This American Life, and the radio show continues to delight, impress, and intrigue. Then, the other day, I missed a call from my long time best friend (y'know, since fifth grade or so), Di. I listened to her message, but it came out somewhat garbled. She said something about winning tickets to something on Saturday night, and she was inviting me to go with her, but I couldn't quite catch what it was she had won tickets to. However, a girls' night out with Di is always a good thing, so I called her back forthwith and left her a message assuring her that I'd love to go, and asking her what it was we were going to. Then I checked facebook, and found out that what she had one tickets to was Ira Glass's presentation at Kingsbury Hall! I wigged out something fierce. I've been speaking in exclamation points all week. I was going to get to see him in real life! Actually see him talk and move and express, not just hear his voice on the radio. Then, Friday, Di told me that because she'd won the tickets through KUER, we were invited to the pre-show reception (with cupcakes! I couldn't eat them, though: it's a safe bet they weren't vegan). At that pre-show reception there would probably be some KUER people, and a slight possibility of IRA GLASS being there HIMSELF.
So Saturday evening I cut my climbing with friends short and rushed up to Di's house. We drove from there to the U of U campus and soon found ourselves climbing the steps of Kinsbury Hall. Then we climbed up to the second floor, found our names on the exclusive list, and waltzed into the reception. At the door there was a basket of "Ira Glasses," for us to put on to be more like our hero.
Ira Glass glasses |
Holy moly it's Ira Freakin' Glass!! |
It's cardboard Ira! And real Ira's in the background! He looks just like himself! |
In my head I was thinking, "Don't be a dork: it's Ira Glass! Don't be a dork! Don't be a dork! Holy cow it's Ira Glass!!" |
If someday I die and there are no names of children to engrave on the back of my tombstone, or if there's not room for the poem I want there (John Donne, Holy Sonnet X), and if I'm not cremated and scattered from the top of Angel's Landing in Zion, if all that could be said of me and carved into stone at the end of my life was, "She was a great storyteller," I would rest as easy under that simple inscription as the pharaohs do in their gold encrusted tombs, engraved all about with their glorious deeds and accomplishments. If no one can think of anything better to say about me when I'm gone, I'd be perfectly happy with that. If you can't write the usual "loving wife, mother, and grandmother" on my tomb, please simply put "Storyteller" under my name instead.
4 comments:
I love that my OMG! face is surprisingly consistent, but my attempts to get a normal looking smiling picture end up either normal or with crazy eyes. Unfortunately that one was with crazy eyes. :P
Also I'm glad we could go together.
Very nicely written. Both your enthusiasm and then a nice, meaningful conclusion. I'm glad you got to meet him.
i love stories. i love to tell stories. life is simply a confluence of stories joining your own. blogs are good, but i prefer the good ole fashioned bardic tradition of sharing my stories in person :)
I'm not exaggerating, I read the last paragraph of this post three times, just to revel in it a little.
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