As I said, well THAT didn’t work.
Instead, I came back to the hotel that night – still in something of a state of shock – and wrote down my first memory of the evening:
“Oh, (bleep). He is the most beautiful man I have ever seen in my entire life.”
Okay, I was probably still a little dazzled maybe, but ... well, let me start over.
Once again, the concert was perfect. Note perfect, pitch perfect, banter perfect, joke perfect, song list perfect ... those Cowsills have their act down to a science of perfection, really. They’re that good.But there was no official Meet & Greet after the show, so I’m now devastated for a second time. To actually speak to Bob, I would now need to jump right in front of him or something ... and there was no way in hell I was going to do that. Fortunately for me, other people had more courage than I did. Stopped him to meet him, take a picture with him, chat with him. I still am too terrified to try the same thing, so start walking away. I’m halfway out of the tent when I hear Bill Cowsill’s voice.
I’m sure whoever it was had no idea of the impact the sound of their voice and that particular command had on a complete stranger, but at the time, I jumped right out of my skin, turned around and went back to meet Bob. Thinking back on it, dollars to doughnuts it was a Cowsill relation – so many of them were there – who no doubt would have sounded just like Bill. But I wouldn’t question whether or not it was Bill Cowsill until later.
At the time, I just went, “Okay,” and turned around. Went back to meet Bob, so I wouldn’t have to explain myself to Bill in the afterlife. (“You know I THOUGHT it sounded like you, but then I thought ...”) And waited patiently, looking down at my feet until the huge guy in front of me moved away. And there was Bob Cowsill, looking at me, waiting for me to say something.
And you know, I probably would have been fine if I hadn’t made the fatal mistake of looking at his face. That was my first reaction, the first one, the one I wrote down: “Oh, (bleep). He is the most beautiful man I have ever seen in my entire life.”
I just froze, I think because I wasn’t expecting it. That’s when I went ice cold and started shaking. Oh, it would have been so much easier if he were -- there was one video where he described himself as “old and worn”, and I thought he was wrong then, but I didn’t realize just how wrong he actually was. It would have been so much easier if he’d looked “old and worn”, but he didn’t. He just looked beautiful. A strange thing to say about a man’s face, but that was my first reaction. Maybe I should say “handsome”, but my first thought, unvarnished and unedited, was just that: “beautiful.” He looked better at that moment than all his teenage pin-up photos from my pre-teen years. I inhaled in surprise and went a little dizzy.
Picture it: I'm a corporate trainer, can teach classes with 20-30 people in them all day long without even blinking. In fact, I enjoy it! Public speaking? I'm fine. People who know me would describe me as confident and outgoing. But none of them would have recognized me, meeting Bob Cowsill for the first time and looking right into his face.
I immediately regressed to the age of 12 and started shaking like a leaf, to the point where he was now probably afraid I was going to drop at his feet like a stone. I did manage to give him the letter, but my voice was shaking so badly, he had to lean forward to hear me. He did take it and said he was glad I had finally delivered it. Then he reached for my hand and discovered it was ice cold and trembling. He looked at me, and here’s where he was probably thinking, “Uh-oh. She is about to drop like a ...” and wondering if he remembered any of his EMT training, because he might have to use it.
Although, on a side-note, I’m not sure that would have worked all that well – imagine coming out of a dead faint and discovering Bob Cowsill giving you mouth-to-mouth. Would have no doubt undermined all of his heroic efforts, having me take one look up at him and passing out again ...
But, fortunately, I somehow managed to remain conscious, and no doubt impressed him to no end with my witty repartee:
Bob: Are you okay?
Me: No. Yes. No. Yes. I'm sorry!
Bob: (reassuringly, in a gentle voice) You'll be alright.
Me: (as though I've just been hypnotized) Yes, I'll be alright.
Then he hugged me.
Me: (5 minutes later) Oh, GOD! He probably thinks I'm an idiot!
Bystander: (who photographed the show and witnessed the whole thing): "Yup! I sure would have, if I were him."
(The authorities will someday find Mr. Bystander's remains in the sand dune where I buried him.)
Finally. After 45 years, I finally met Bob Cowsill. Even if he does think I’m an idiot. I’m okay with that. And he is the most beautiful man I have ever seen in my entire life. Still.
Before I left for Rhode Island, I heard from a friend of mine. We were discussing plans for me to pick her up at the Kingston, Rhode Island Amtrak station and take her to Newport for a memorial service. At the time of this memorial service, I will have been at a concert in Westerly, Rhode Island – which is why I was picking her up in Rhode Island. I get up the next morning and find a message from this friend.
She was trying to book the train, but then she read in the Amtrak booking page that trains in the northeast corridor might experience delays due to track work in Virginia. She panicked, wanting to know what the plan was when she went through Virginia and got held up by track work. Keep in mind that she is traveling from Boston to Kingston, Rhode Island, a trip of maybe an hour in length. So she hasn’t purchased the ticket yet because she’s now afraid of what will happen when she goes through Virginia. Not the train alone. Her IN the train.
I just stared at her message and went, “Wha ...?” Read the message again, just to make sure I hadn’t read it wrong. Nope. Hadn’t read it wrong. Sat in front of my computer with my mouth hanging open in shock.
She’s afraid she is traveling through Virginia – going from Boston to Rhode Island. Virginia. O ... M ... G. Just for the record: she went to elementary and high school in Quincy, Massachusetts, and has no idea what or where the State of Virginia is. They must be so proud. As I said, I was just stunned. Spent a good ten minutes trying to compose a reply that didn’t start with, “What are you, an IDIOT??” Way to go, Quincy, Massachusetts School Systems.
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