Not Famous

Someone I once knew wrote a paper called The Psychology of Fame. I find myself pondering a similar question. What do they have that I don't? Most people live out their lives with no remarkable encounters with anything resembling fame, fortune or notoriety, but the more one travels and lives in cities, the greater is the chance of seeing or encountering the world of well-known others.

Moving around, I have noticed that over time I have been close to, near by, or hovering in similar circles as a variety of people we would call famous or in the vicinity of fame....close encounters. I heard a personal development study that tells us that we are likely to be only as successful as the three people who surround us most frequently.

A few close encounters that occur to me now...

President Johnson waved at me when I was twelve.

Met Jerry Garcia briefly...backstage at The Berkeley Theater in 1975 in the days before heavy security always blocked the door.

Billy Baldwin (my favorite Baldwin) stood next to me at a film preview party at The Wollman Rink in Central Park.

Saw Woody Allen and Mia Farrow walking hand-in-hand down Madison Avenue during the 80s.

Helped Caroline Kennedy locate a photo file while working in the photo library at The Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Dated the first drummer for Sonic Youth who later became a character actor after starring in the indie film Stranger Than Paradise.

Sat on stage with the sound guy during a Wash DC Patti LaBelle concert during her crazy spiky hair days.

Shared Thanksgiving dinner with the B52s at Kate's NYC apartment.

Invited to dinner at apartment of Jay Dee Doherty, drummer of Patti Smith Band.

Went to party at loft of Jim Jarmusch in NYC.

Was interviewed for a job at Tibet House by Richard Gere.

Met David Byrne at Paul Simon show in Tribeca.

Had lunch with Annie Lennox.

My friend Kathleen was commisioned by Arnold Schwartzenager to paint Maria Schriver's portrait and was also commisioned to paint a large rose painting for the designer, Valentino.

My friend, Larry, received a grammy for writing and performing Don't Bogart That Joint, anthem from movie Easy Rider.

I feel a bit like Forest Gump. These are all interesting little moments, but it doesn't quite add up. The Emily Dickinson words come to mind...
I'm nobody, who are you? An underachiever living in Buffalo, I must ask--was this a dream?

Perhaps I have simply failed to capitalize on the multitude of opportunities that came my way?

Perhaps I am simply living out my karma?