Our story this week begins in 1982 towards the end of my junior year of high school in American Life class. We drew names to do a speech/presentation on a famous American from the 1920's. I drew golfer Bobby Jones and my estranged friend (whose father's name actually was Bobby Jones) much to her dismay drew Babe Ruth. She immediately voiced her displeasure, "Who is Babe Ruth?" she asked. When I told her he was the most famous and arguably the greatest baseball player who ever lived, she looked disinterested and unimpressed.
I on the other hand was fairly pleased with my luck of the draw. Bobby Jones was the father of the Masters, and giving an entertaining speech was secondary to the wonderful thought that I would finally get to appear in public with my knickers on. I quickly got all my research done, and got my speech written. My estranged friend asked me for help and basically I ended up writing her speech for her, somewhat envious that the figure of her speech (so to speak) was a person who was easily presentable, who you couldn't help but get a high grade talking about.
Flash forward to November 1987, as Minnesota was abuzz over the homecoming of our World Champion Minnesota Twins who finally managed to lift the burden off years of professional sports ineptitude. Being a die hard Twins' fan for many years this was a bittersweet moment for me. I was in the middle of my long drawn out "blue" period/funk and not even the excitement of the ultimate success of my favorite team made me feel much better. Add on to that the crowding of the hordes of now "lifetime" Twins fans who discovered the team way back in September of 1987 and it all seemed a bit frustrating. As I stood along the packed streets of downtown St. Paul trying to get a decent spot to see the parade, I noticed the person at the front of the throng was none other than the high school actress who read my speech on Babe Ruth to great success a few years earlier. Yes indeed there she was, the big baseball fan, frantically waving her little homer hanky. That may have been the moment my lifelong skepticism soured into cynicism. Didn't matter though, not the jostling and pushing of the too many people, not the hypocrisy, not the chill. The thrill of the moment, the dream come true, filled me with a warmth that I felt as a little kid with all those summers of frustration and wonder listening to all those far away Twins games.
Last week a new friend revealed to me that she was going to be discovered, that it was meant to be that she was going to be in Arnold Schwarzenegger's movie being filmed in downtown St. Paul. As a kid, she used to hang pictures of Arnold in her room, and had remained an admirer over the years. We planned and plotted the best way to actually getting to see Arnold, and better yet to become an extra in the movie. We scoped out the area the movie was going to be shot, and she boldly asked one of the people working on the set, and later a police officer when and where the movie was going to be filmed.
So we gathered among a crowd of people trying to see Arnold. We scouted the best area and made our way past the blockades and security over to the front of the Museum of Art. We stood with a bunch of people all wrapped up in winter clothes (the movie takes place during the Christmas season) and my friend spotted someone she knew. He happened to have an extra winter coat so she borrowed that, and I tried to look as puffy as I could in my little windbreaker. We stood behind a lamppost and whenever someone would ask if we were extras we nodded our heads.
The crew of the film barked out orders to all us extras, telling us to stand where we had been before lunch. We stood there as Arnold drove up puffing on a cigar and looking just like he does in the movies (though a bit shorter than I had pictured). My friend's enthusiasm, and pure excitement got me excited. I just had to smile as she exuded joy over being so close to her favorite star. Just like a kid. Like learning to breath again, or inhaling the freshest air you ever breathed.
But we had a job to do. As the director yelled "rolling" and then "EXTRAS!" we all began to move forward, a part of a make believe parade as Arnold ran by us and away from TV's Robert Conrad who was playing a cop. We did this single take several times. Each time my friend and I tried our best to sneak our way a little bit behind where we started, in the line of the camera shot. When they get back to looking at and editing the film they probably will shout out "Where did these two come from?" But I believe on this day a star was born. Thrilling, positively wacky, spontaneous and perfect. Not even the cold weather nor the sudden rain could ruin the charge, the infectious life of her experience now forever captured on celluloid. I looked at my friend and her smile was even bigger than Arnold's infamous charismatic grin. And for an all too brief and rare moment so was mine.
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