Congratulations

Sunday night

A young woman was attending an awards banquet, honoring her for her charity work. When it was time for her to take center-stage, the master of ceremonies handed her a special prize; it was a book bound in black leather, with endpapers printed in gold and black. He went on to point out to the crowd that the inside cover had been signed by none other than Paul McCartney. The award winner squinted for a few seconds at the busy design and said into the microphone, "I can't read the signature." It turned out that that book had simply been a practical joke. The M.C. said, "Here's the real prize!," and out walked Paul McCartney himself, to deliver another book, with a signature that would be much easier to read. The woman was so surprised she impulsively kissed McCartney on his forehead, to the embarrassment of practically everyone.

*****

I was watching some videos on youtube yesterday of McCartney and The Beatles.

The black leather book with the gold and black endpapers is actually my personal copy of a memoir of my mom that I put together back in 1996. I got the endpapers to match the black leather and gold stamping on the spine, but immediately regretted my choice, and regret it to this day. It's sort of ugly. I don't know why I thought I had to match the gold and black with the same colors. Any color at all goes with black, and any color would look better.

The signature that can't be read probably goes back to the autographed Springsteen poster which hangs in my kitchen. I tracked him down in D.C. one night in August of 1984 and got him to sign my poster. Of all the lousy moments in the world for my pen to give out and skip intermittently, mine chose that one. If only I had stopped at the drug store and bought a blue Sharpie. I may never get over it.

These are a few of the petty regrets that I carry around in my subconscious.