To know the famous, it helps if one is famous, a condition of which I’ve never been accused.
Between my Rust Belt location (Rochester, New York) and an innate personality best suited for couch-based contemplation, my flirtations with fame have been few and far between.
Let me take a few moments to summarize them.
1
In 2006, a gentleman named Chris Daughtry finished fifth on American Idol. He later formed a rock band named Daughtry. The keyboardist for that band is someone named Elvio Fernandes. I used to pay Elvio for my son to be in his music school in Rochester, meaning the man felt obligated to talk to me on one occasion. He seemed relieved when the conversation was over.
2
Well before any of this, a band named Foreigner was having some success. Their lead singer was a guy who goes by Lou Gramm, born and raised in Rochester. Now an old man, Gramm still lives around these parts. At a recent car show, my friend took a picture of his daughter standing next to the aged rock star and sent it to me.
3
Back when my daughter was in second grade, she had a birthday party, and we meant to invite her entire class. Somehow, we accidentally left one child off the list. That child was the niece of native daughter Abby Wambach, the highest all-time international goal scorer in US soccer history. Anyway, the child’s mother—Wambach’s sister—was appropriately pissed. I haven’t seen her since.
4
I have a friend who enjoys talking a lot—to anyone. Several years ago, he sent me a selfie with him and former White House Press Secretary Sean Spicer. The picture was rather grainy, but I was able to make out that Spicer looked horrified.
5
The Buffalo Bills conduct their annual training camp around the corner, meaning that in the middle of the summer, they can be caught eating ice cream at non-descript local joints. A few years ago, my neighbor’s son saw Coach Sean McDermott and has a picture to prove it. I had the opportunity to briefly glance at the photo.
6
My wife was once on the local news talking about pollen counts. You’ll have to take my word for it.
7
I finally accepted that I was destined for anonymity when I not long ago watched the movie Almost Famous. In it was Rochester native Philip Seymour Hoffman, who died tragically at the age of 46. I never had the chance to meet Hoffman, but I did take this picture of a statue of him.
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