Wherein I Meet My Hero, Kurt Vonnegut, and he Turns Out to be Just Like Kurt Vonnegut
Kurt Vonnegut is one of my heroes. One of my few heroes. Perhaps my only hero. I would have to think about that. He has been one of my heroes since I was a teenager, lo those many years ago. Having read everything he's ever written, and him writing in such a unique voice, one gets an impression of what he is actually like. In real life. He is.
It was around 1991. I used to take my little boy, Foster, to Concerts for Young People by the Little Orchestra Society at Avery Fischer Hall in Lincoln Center, New York City. Something my mother used to take me to when I was a little boy, lo those MANY, MANY years ago. I recommend it to all of you young parents in the New York area. Maybe you'll be lucky and your kids will grow up with a love for music, especially good music.
On this particular Saturday, in early spring I would guess, Mr. Vonnegut's wife, the photographer Jill Krementz was appearing with the Little Orchestra Society, in conjunction with a new photo book of hers aimed at children. I think she was set up at a table, signing books, before the concert began. And who do I see sort of hanging out, completely unnoticed in the vicinity of this table, but the great man himself. He did nothing to draw attention to himself. I think I was the only person in this crowded lobby to recognize him. I was dumbfounded. I got chills. I said to little Foster, "Do you know who that is??" "No," he said. "That's Kurt Vonnegut!" I whispered. Predictably, he said, "Who?"
We went inside for the concert. Having subscribed for probably three years by then, our seats had gotten progressively better. We were on the aisle in about the fourth row of the orchestra that season. As we settled in to our seats, Mr. Vonnegut walked by and sat down in the aisle seat, two rows in front of us.
He spent the better part of the concert air conducting.
When the show was over, we found our way out of the auditorium, back into the lobby. Ms. Krementz was back at the book table. And Kurt Vonnegut was once again hanging out, leaning against a railing. He was doing nothing to draw attention to himself, and he got no attention for his efforts.
Being shy, and the type of person who would NEVER approach a celebrity, feeling I was invading his or her privacy, I did the only thing I could. I approached Kurt Vonnegut. I was compelled.
He didn't seem particularly alarmed. I said to him, "Mr. Vonnegut, I never do this, but I feel I have to tell you how much I've admired you for so much of my life." He looked at me and said, I can only assume referring to his air conducting, "How did I do?"
It was around 1991. I used to take my little boy, Foster, to Concerts for Young People by the Little Orchestra Society at Avery Fischer Hall in Lincoln Center, New York City. Something my mother used to take me to when I was a little boy, lo those MANY, MANY years ago. I recommend it to all of you young parents in the New York area. Maybe you'll be lucky and your kids will grow up with a love for music, especially good music.
On this particular Saturday, in early spring I would guess, Mr. Vonnegut's wife, the photographer Jill Krementz was appearing with the Little Orchestra Society, in conjunction with a new photo book of hers aimed at children. I think she was set up at a table, signing books, before the concert began. And who do I see sort of hanging out, completely unnoticed in the vicinity of this table, but the great man himself. He did nothing to draw attention to himself. I think I was the only person in this crowded lobby to recognize him. I was dumbfounded. I got chills. I said to little Foster, "Do you know who that is??" "No," he said. "That's Kurt Vonnegut!" I whispered. Predictably, he said, "Who?"
We went inside for the concert. Having subscribed for probably three years by then, our seats had gotten progressively better. We were on the aisle in about the fourth row of the orchestra that season. As we settled in to our seats, Mr. Vonnegut walked by and sat down in the aisle seat, two rows in front of us.
He spent the better part of the concert air conducting.
When the show was over, we found our way out of the auditorium, back into the lobby. Ms. Krementz was back at the book table. And Kurt Vonnegut was once again hanging out, leaning against a railing. He was doing nothing to draw attention to himself, and he got no attention for his efforts.
Being shy, and the type of person who would NEVER approach a celebrity, feeling I was invading his or her privacy, I did the only thing I could. I approached Kurt Vonnegut. I was compelled.
He didn't seem particularly alarmed. I said to him, "Mr. Vonnegut, I never do this, but I feel I have to tell you how much I've admired you for so much of my life." He looked at me and said, I can only assume referring to his air conducting, "How did I do?"
posted by Defective Unit | 10:46 PM
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