Counting all the Stars

I've been terribly alone and forgotten in Manhattan, but not this past weekend.

In fact, I had a series of fabulous encounters that had me absolutely reeling with joy.

It started on Friday when I was bouncing out of the Barnes & Noble at Union Square and spotted a gaggle of smartphones raised high in the air.

The store routinely hosts authors of every sort and I reckoned these people were jockeying to get a photo of some cable news blowhard or the latest celebrity chef, whose overpriced cook book would probably end up in the dollar bin by Thanksgiving.

Oh, get a load of these star-struck twits, I mentally sneered. They’re so pathetic.

I was due to meet a friend for lunch on 28th Street and the only reason I was in the store in the first place was to use the facilities, as the old kidneys ain’t what they used to be.

But I figured, what the hell? Let me at least find out which D-lister I’m snubbing.

“Say,” I asked a nearby employee. “What’s all the excitement about?”

“That’s Tony Bennett,” he said.

What? You mean Tony Bennett—as in “I Left My Heart in San Francisco,” “Stranger in Paradise,” “Once Upon A Time” and God knows how many incredible hits?

You mean Tony Bennett, the man, the legend, the freaking deity?

Well, yes, actually. He was making an appearance to promote his latest album with Diana Krall and he was no more than 10 feet away from me.

I quickly whipped out my smartphone and joined the small crowd of intelligent, sophisticated people—how dare you call them twits?—and began clicking like a Western Union telegraph operator on Mother’s Day.

“I’m gonna die,” I wailed, “I’m gonna die!”

Juliet is the Sun

I didn’t die, but I came awfully close to keeling over. This man is an incredible 92 years old and he had this aura around him that you could almost touch.

As I was shooting my brains out, the beloved singer stepped up and hugged some lucky woman.

“Hey,” I whispered, “I need a hug from Tony Bennett, too!”

I hung around as long as I could before rolling uptown to meet my friend for lunch. But my star-gazing had only begun.

On Saturday my sister and I went into town again to attend the Irish Repertory Theatre’s annual block party. We’ve seen many of this company's productions and the block party is always fun.

Once again, I made a pitstop at the Barnes & Noble at Union Square. (Gosh, maybe someday I’ll actually buy something there.)

The place was celebrity-free on this day, which is good because I was perilously close to giving new meaning to the word “Riverdance.”

We were enjoying the music and speeches at the Irish Rep when we happened to look up and saw Bill Irwin, famed actor, clown, and comedian, whose lengthy resume includes appearing in the video for “Don’t Worry Be Happy” with Robin Williams and Bobby McFerrin.

Mr. Irwin will be doing a show at the Irish Rep called “Exploring the Works of Samuel Beckett,” and he performed a selection from that program.

“This is your second celebrity sighting,” my sister said.

Yes, but little did we know that we had one more to go.

This time, though, we saw a celebrity in the making in the form of Juliet, a beautiful six-year-girl who swept us off our collective feet with her fabulous dancing.

I thought I had left my heart in Barnes & Noble, but Juliet scooped it right up like a loose football and ran straight for the end zone.

Her dancing was flawless. She kept time with the music, created her own steps, and did not show the slightest bit of shyness. When one of the singers struck up a slow, bluesy number, Juliet effortlessly shifted to her own interpretive moves.

She appeared to be a natural performer. Her folks weren’t pushing her to entertain people, she wasn’t desperate for attention and I’m convinced she would have danced with the same exuberance if she’d been alone in the middle of the Mojave Desert.

My sister and I approached Juliet and her parents to let them know just how much we enjoyed her impromptu performance. And I’m going to keep an eye out for this kid because I’m sure we’re going to hear from her again.

I’ve decided I’m going to take this excellent weekend as a good omen. There’s no logic behind this, but I’m in transition right now and I need all the good news I can get.

I’m going to be positive, creative, and productive and I’m going to go forward and look all the good things in life.

As long as there’s a bathroom nearby, I’ll be fine.