Old Brown Eyes

Let's Get Away From it All

I was beyond excited. Rich was booked at the Hyatt Regency in Atlanta and I had gotten us reservations at the Capital Grille on Peachtree Street. It was going to be a gas of a time and I couldn't remember when I had so looked forward to something in my entire life. Even my mom remarked on my mood and appearance.

"You're are positively glowing of the prospect of meeting this guy," she remarked.

"I know," I replied as dreamily as a teenager. "I can't wait. He's so different from anyone I've ever known."

"Just be careful," mama warned. "I don't want you to get your hopes up and then get your heart broken. Remember, you don't really know him."

"I won't, mama," I promised her, but deep down in my heart I tell myself that I did know him. I knew his heart and soul and that was all that mattered.

"I'm gonna grab in my arms you the minute I see you," Rich told me the next time we talked.

"Oh, really?" I giggled. "Right there in the middle of the lobby of the Hyatt Regency?"

"Lobby?" Rich scoffed. "I'm talking about my room, baby."

"Well, aren't you presumptuous?" I teased even as a little tingle of excitement ran down my back. "Do you mean to tell me you expect me to come up to your room, unescorted, instead of you meeting me down in the lobby of the hotel like a gentleman?"

Rich immediately caught on and began playing along. "Forgive me, sister Hadley, of course I would be happy to kiss your hand in the lobby of the Hyatt Regency. That is, if you'll allow me and none of your other suitors will tar and feather me and run me out on a rail."

I was laughing at his pseudo-southern accent. "Okay, Foghorn, that's enough!"

"I figure I already have two strikes against me," he went on incorrigibly. "I'm Jewish and I'm from the northeast. But I'm going to brave the deep South just so that I can meet the fair Hadley Baker."

I was wiping tears of hilarity for my eyes. "You really are too much, Rich! You're killing me!"

"Well, I didn't have the looks or the talent to be the next Sinatra, so I at least try to be the next Milton Berle."

"You're way funnier than Milton Berle," I said, still giggling.

"Don't let Uncle Milt hear you say that. Did I ever tell you about the time I met him in Atlantic City?"

"No, I don't think you did."

"Well, Milton Berlin I share a birthday. July 12th. When I saw him sitting at a bar in a restaurant on the boardwalk, I took a chance and just walked up to him. I must have been about seventeen or eighteen at the time. And I said to him, just as brash as a teenage boy could be, 'Hi there, Mr. Berle! I'm a big fan of yours. Did you know you and I have the same birthday?' And he just kind of rolled his eyes and said, 'Oh sure, kid, of course I knew that.' I was a little embarrassed but then he very graciously gave me his autograph, pat on the arm and a wink."

"Wow," I said. "You had your nerve. You just walked right up to these people, didn't you? I could never be that brave."

"It's a matter of knowing when and how to approach them. Most of them are very kind and gracious. I only ever had one negative experience with a celebrity. I hated it too, because he was a big idol of mine. Robert Preston, you know, the music man?"

"Yes!" I exclaimed. "That was one of my favorite movies when I was little. I used to sing along with it and I watched it over and over. So, what happened?"

"I'm not sure," Rich said musingly. "He could have just been having a bad day but I saw him crossing the lot at a movie studio out in California and ask for his autograph and he just kind of brushed me off. Pretty rude. I was in my early twenties at the time and, to be honest, it kind of crushed me. I had always had such high regard for him and his talent."