There's a place in town called Simons. A great early morning hangout for healthy foods, good coffee and it just happens to be on the way to work. I sat at the bar, ready to spread out, read the paper and drink my steaming cup of coffee when a man came and sat in the chair right next to me. I'm thinking how rude of him to take up the space I had reserved for my newspaper.
"Here you go Mr. Smothers" the waitress handed him his regular shot of wheat grass. pause. Oh my gosh. I am sitting next to Dick Smothers. The Smother's Brothers. Not the yo yo man, but the man who always thought his mom liked his brother best. I am calmly sipping my coffee thinking how do I get in to a conversation with him. He took off some bicycle gloves so i quickly said "so, you rode your bike here?" "No, I just wear them to protect my hands. I'm getting old", and then I start telling him how I would need pads for my elbows. It seems I am having a hard time getting thru doorways. We kidded and joked and he looked at me and said "Do I know you?", "No," I said, " but now you do, I am Judy Robertson." to which he replied, "I am Dick Smothers"
We shared stories of growing up in Calif. He in Redondo Beach, I in Ventura. I told him how I missed the foothills of Calif, and he told me how content he was in Sarasota. It was such a fun meeting over coffee.
I told my husband all about it, and he said "Are you going to die, you keep meeting famous people" I'm not sure what the correlation is with meeting famous people and death. I'm just going to enjoy this fabulous ride called life.
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