Put your story down in history

   I think we all have a “rubbing elbows with a famous person” story that we love to tell. I have one about John Wayne. I never met him actually, but my dad did. In fact, he and the Duke were buddies.

   Back in the 60’s my parents lived in Phoenix where the Duke had a cattle ranch. Every year he invited the public in to tour the grounds and see his prize bulls. Then there was what my dad called the “inner sanctum” where cattle dealers were treated to a steak dinner. Being a butcher, my dad spoke their language and used his gift of gab to land himself a seat at the table. It was here that he and the Duke met. But it didn’t stop there. The next year – and for years after – my dad received a personal invitation to this big event where he dined with the Duke and exchanged expertise on all categories of cattle: cow, steer, heifer, bull.

   I’m not sure how impressed the Duke was with my dad, but in our family these encounters were not to be forgotten. My dad framed a collage of his invitations, programs and menus. And right in the middle was an 8X10 glossy of him and the Duke arm-in-arm all buddy-buddy-like, standing behind the prize bull. Until the two reunited in heaven in 1980, this piece of work hung over my parents’ bed - while the picture of Jesus hung over the dresser and the picture of the Pope next to the closet. And for years, even though my kids never knew their grandpa, they took that picture of him and the Duke to school for show and tell. OK, just a fun family story.

   But sometimes these celebrity encounters can enrich the lives of those around us. For example, one time I mentioned to my friend Charlie, a Baptist preacher, that my husband’s cousin Jim lives next door to Alice Cooper.

   The next time I saw Charlie he said, “Because of my friendship with you, I’ve been really elevated in the eyes of my grandchildren.”

   “Oh,” I said, “because you’re friends with a famous columnist?”

   “No,” he replied, “because I’m friends with someone whose husband’s cousin lives next door to Alice Cooper. They said, wow, Grandpa must not be as big of a dork as we thought he was!”

   Now, I know lots of you have stories even better than these that you’d love to tell the whole world. If you send them to me, I can write them up in my column. Then, in case anyone ever doubts you, you can say, “Look, it’s true, because here it is in the newspaper.”

   And not only that, your story will also live on forever in the Post’s archives along with the one about my dad, the Duke and the prize bull.

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