What seems like a thousand years ago, my dad attended the Inaugural Ball of George H. Bush. Though his attendance was a matter of protocol, the thought of him rubbing elbows with all sorts of celebrities and dignitaries had me bouncing off the walls.
This made him cooler than the time he scored me a Hard Rock Cafe shirt from Reykjavik...no one on the school bus had one of those.
So off he went and I tried to stay awake until he returned to hear all about the glamorous people he talked to (and maybe even scored a few autographs from....though the idea that I actually wanted someone's autograph makes me cringe a bit now).
I made it until 9:15 before sleep triumphed.
The next morning I bounded down the stars to get all the great details...of which there were really none. Not much of a pop culturist, my dad couldnt really tell me of anyone famous he saw, though a couple looked familiar.
I was crestfallen.
"Oh!" he shouted, "There was one person I got to meet!"
"Who? And how could you forget?? Madonna? Prince? Molly Ringwald?" (like any of them would have appeared at a Republican inauguration).
"You know, the country singer."
Thankfully my mom intervened, "The guy who sells sausages."
My dad's coolness factor dropped just a bit. Oh, and he has no recollection of meeting the Big D either. So much for my full circle moment.
****Special shout out to Megan, who's so supportively encouraged my JD obsession (not the same JD I enjoyed in the college years), and whose own blog I've added to my roll.