random brushes with fame

In the spirit of "man not living by bread alone", etc., I'm writing a random post which has little or nothing to do with food, recipes or pushing my spices on you. For those of you who like to play the game of Six Degrees of Separation, well, I can possibly help boost your standing exponentially.

Working in the restaurant business often gives you close access to some well known & famous people, more so than having a paper route. I started working in restaurants when I was 17 and have crossed paths with several notable persons, all who have had the unexpected opportunity to eat food that I have prepared & cooked. They seem to have not suffered any long lasting side effects because of it & as far as I know know most of them are still alive & well.

Just to drop a few names in order to impress you, here they are, in semi-chronological order:

Roy & Dale Rogers
Susan Anton
Alan Hale Jr. (Skipper from "Gilligan's Island")
Cathy Rigby
Captain Lou Albano
One of the members of "The Nazz", Todd Rungren's old band (He was wearing a conversational T-shirt)
Larry Bird
Tracy Kidder
Clint Eastwood
Robert B. Parker
Jamaica Kincaid
Chief Justice David Souter
Former Director of Central Intelligence John M. Deutch
Mameve Medwed
Julia Child (It was in Cambridge, where she lived. She really gets around!)
Marc Ribot
G. Love & Special Sauce
Gwyneth Paltrow & Ben Affleck (On a date!)

Way before any of that ever occurred I had attended a party in Corona, California where there was a young, unknown musician named Eddie Van Halen. He was the one sitting around noodling on an acoustic guitar while being surrounded by all the babes, which, as a teenager, is always a confounding social toss up to choose between: budding guitar hero vs. bevy of babes. Who do I pay more attention to? We didn't eat anything together but there was definitely some beer shared there.

Aren't you impressed? I knew that you would be. Where Kevin Bacon fits into all of this, I'm not at all certain.

I did once deny Miss Natalie Portman what was probably some direly needed sustenance, so dire that she felt it was acceptable to break with social, commonweal propriety and smuggle in a sandwich and soda into a theatre. I worked at Sanders theatre at the same time that she was attending Harvard. It was nothing personal or even vaguely fascist - Sanders theatre was built in the 1870's, after the civil war, to commemorate Harvard alumni who died defending the Union. It is a magnificent, beautiful structure; Harvard has a vested interest in keeping it as pristine as possible, and that means not allowing food or sodas inside. I don't think Natalie was trying to be duplicitous and selfish, acting like a prima dona or even trying to make a radical statement in the way that only young adults at higher learning institutes know how to. Everyone tries to sneak in food, usually by disingenuous methods that even a three year old would laugh scornfully at. Natalie simply tried to walk in with her evening repast openly displayed, so she was easy to spot. I confiscated her meal, which was promptly given back to her by a Commanding Officer of the Militant Theatre Usher's Grunt Troops. I was informed unequivocally to "let Natalie Portman bring anything she wants into the theatre". Did that include incendiary devices? Camera crews? Wooden tikis or totem poles? Sousaphones? Where do we draw the line? We once discovered a machete in the lost and found bin, so I assume we have some sort of protocol about personal items. I hope he at least got her phone number.

I was only doing my job, and I was no where near as hard on her as I have been with others, including that guy who seems to believe he's the unofficial governor of Cambridge and always starts screaming socialist agitprop buzzwords whenever we prevent him from getting in without a ticket, or the groupie "friend" who felt entitled to go backstage to see Dave Davies even though she apparently hadn't seen or spoken to him since the late sixties. I nearly caught holy heck when I demanded an entry ticket from Archie Epps III, the Dean of Students, who I personally didn't know from Adam's off ox. I got away with a curt reprimand and surly glances from him whenever we passed on the campus.

It may be time to make up with Natalie. For whatever reasons she may have, she hasn't returned my calls or accepted my humble offering of apologies & olive branches. Perhaps I should make her a nice olive & pimento loaf sandwich.