Today is already warm at 48°. It is another lovely morning. It is the first full spring day. When I got the papers, I noticed the green pointed tops of the daylillies have poked above the ground. More croci are in boom. The dafs have buds. Spring is running rampant over winter, and I want to scream with joy.

Sometimes I sit here staring at the screen hoping my muse will take notice of the blank page and throw some inspiration my way. I’m still waiting.

Here I go!

When I was a kid, I once went door to door to collect money for some organization I don’t remember, maybe the Jimmy Fund. I was not thinking of altruism. In Boston, at the collective site, were Miss Kitty and Doc from Gunsmoke. I wanted to meet them. My father drove me into town. I carried my money in a can. The place was crowded and had a long line. I didn’t mind waiting. When it was my turn, I emptied my can into the money bin. I got to shake Doc’s hand and Miss Kitty thanked me personally, or at least it seemed that way. I was star struck.

One July 4th at the bandstand in the next town over, Big Brother Bob Emery was there. He was a local television personality who had a show for kids. I remember the theme song was “The Grass is Always Greener in the Other Fella’s Yard.” He accompanied himself on the ukulele and sometimes a banjo. He called us small fry. On the wall behind him was a picture of then President Eisenhower. Hail to the Chief would play, and we would raise our glasses of milk in tribute then drink to the president. Anyway, I was right behind him on the bandstand. I remember he wore a checked suit jacket. It was so crowded none of us, even Big Brother Bob Emery, could move. What I remember the most is he had a bug on his neck. I watched the bug move across his neck and wondered why he didn’t whack it away. I was so intent on the bug I missed whatever he had to say.

In Ghana, I met Prime Minister Kofi Busia. He was running in the first election after the military coup. Campaigning was happening while I was in training. When I was in Bawku for my Iive-in with a Ghanaian family, there was a huge rally for Busia. My Ghanaian father was a mucky muck in the Progress Party, Busia’s party, and insisted we, a Peace Corps friend, and I sit on the bandstand. Wrong move! We got a bit of a reprimand for appearing to support Busia by sitting on the grandstand, right in front, as we were not supposed to have anything to do with politics, local or otherwise. Well, he won. Later, after his inauguration, he visited my town, Bolgatanga, for a luncheon at the governor’s house. I didn’t get an invitation, but my principal insisted I accompany her. I did. They made room. That was when I met Prime Minister Busia. He would be overthrown by the army 27 months later.

That’s it, the entire total of well-known people I have met.