Shooting Stars

Today began a lot like most days for me. I slept in, but not too long, as my cat, Monkey, was sure to wake me up to feed him. Then I was up for good. Watched a little telly and had some breakfast before shooting off to work.

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That's when things began to get a little odd. By all accounts, there was nothing strange going on at all, but for some reason, my eyes were playing tricks on me. For instance, walking down the sidewalk that ran parallel to the street I was driving on, I saw someone who was the spitting image of Ludwig Von Beethoven. Of course, I knew this was impossible, as that guy's been dead for centuries. Plus, why the hell would he be in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan of all places to be if he were to rise from the dead for only one day.

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A short while later, as I walked down the corridor to the washrooms, I believe I saw Jesus. Not some hispanic dude named Jesus (hay-zues), but the actual messiah, son-of-God guy. I'm not a religious fellow, and don't poke fun at those who are, but this guy looked just like Jesus Christ. Granted he wasn't wearing white robes or anything, choosing bargain bin denim jeans and a swanky sweat shirt, but it was definitely him. I've seen pictures, and this guy was the spitting image.

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After that, when returning from running some envelopes to the courier bin, I discovered George Peppard was in the building. "Now this is getting ridiculous," I thought to myself, knowing that A*Team star has been dead for a few decades now. On closer inspection, and no, I didn't get up close in their business, but I did recognize that "George" was actually a tall woman with a really shitty haircut. (Frankly, I've never understood why woman choose to get those brush cut hairdos. Even if they are a dyke, what's the point of not wanting to look good?)

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Now earlier in the day, I was notified that I'd had some mail in my old mail slot located just upstairs from where I was now working. This seemed a little strange, as all the mail comes through the office where I'm now working. If they knew I was receiving mail, then why the f*ck was it still going upstairs? Anyways, I eventually snuck up to that office when I had a spare moment. I retreived a pay stub from two weeks ago and a large stiff cardboard envelope. I glanced at the name on the return address and recognized the name: DIEHL.

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A few months back, if anyone's been keeping track of this albeit, questionable blog, you may recall that a friend from work's daughter, was producing a movie here in Saskatoon. I was invited to the set one day and met the lead actor on the project. Mr. John Diehl who's starred in a plethera of projects on the small and large screen. Television programs including Miami Vice and The Shield, as well as movies which include Stargate and Stripes.

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We'd exchanged pleasantries that day, which was nice. What really blew my mind, though, was his remembering me, by name, the next evening when I, once more was visiting the set. I wrote about both encounters with Mr. Diehl, in this blog back around the middle of October 2010. So fast forward to today, I receive this stiff envelope with "DO NOT BEND" warning stickers on it. I kind of guessed that it might be an autographed photo, and sparing no moments when I'd returned to my office in the Purchasing Department of my work, I carefully opened up the encasement and retreived an 8"X10" photograph of the afore mentioned Diehl.

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Written across his brow in golden ink was a short message. He commented on reading what I'd written in this very blog. He admired that I was able to write out my thoughts as I had (and have), adding that it was something he was never able to do. They were very kind words, which impresses me even now, as I re-read them. I'm deeply moved (and blown away) that this man, this actor, this... movie star, not only took the time to learn my name, but took the time to read a couple of short paragraphs that I'd written, and furthermore, taken a few moments more, in his hometown of Los Angeles, California, to jot down some kind words for me.

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I've said this before. I've met quite a few celebrities, and as cool as they were, I doubt very much that if they had a moment or two to spare, that they'd even remember anything about me. Not to sell myself short, but come on. A ruggedly-handsome fellow like myself, in a backwards jerk-water town like Saskatoon? What's there to remember? But Mr. Diehl was kind enough (and cool enough) to do just that. He's number one in my books. That's for sure.

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And this concludes my brushes with greatness on this particular day. I wonder who I'll see tomorrow. Michael Jackson? Maybe Elvis. That'd be cool...