Celebrities don't thrill me. I'm not keen to meet them, and if they do well for a cause, especially mine, I'm delighted, but never yearn for a personal photo. In fact, I would not cross the street to shake a hand or ask for an autograph. Invading their space like that feels like, well, invading their space.
Having established my street cred as one who lacks interest in the celebrity aura, let me tell you about sitting next to Walter Cronkite.
It was Marlo Thomas' house. Yep, a celeb all right, but a sweetie and long time pro nuclear disarmament advocate on WAND's advisory board, so no heebie jeebies.
Dr. Helen Caldicott was there. In fact, the event was for her new book. Helen is a celebrity in her own right, and she attracts celebs on her own, but she is WAND's own historical "first lady," so no sweat.
The main speaker was Sister Helen Prejean, the woman of "Dead Men Walking" book and movie fame. Truly an inspiring woman. Fluid and magical in her speech. Spell-binding. But definitely as an anti death penalty advocate and of the Catholic sisterhood, entirely approachable.
Susan Sarandon, seated next to me, star of the movie “Dead Men Walking,” beautiful, tiny, and oozing Prejean-adoration, felt just like a gal-pal than an honorable. After all, she is “Thelma.” (Or is she Louise?) No matter.
Seated on my other side, Walter Cronkite. My heart slowed to a murmur. I was transfixed and barely able to concentrate on Sister Prejean’s introduction of Helen Caldicott.
I concentrated on breathing in and out without making any noise to disturb his historical/journalistic/I-was-there-at-the-creation quality. I tried to think of what to say when the talking stopped. Ever do that? Impossible. You think of the best words much later.
The event over, he stood and offered his hand to shake. “And what brings you here?” Clearly knowing I didn’t fit in with this crowd that also included Paul Newman. I told him about WAND as fast as I could so I wouldn’t bore him and make him turn away. I used one of my slickest lines, “We try to make it uncomfortable for Members of Congress who have a love affair with nuclear weapons.”
The god of all things news-worthy smiled and said, “Keep it up; we need you. The whole world needs you.”
And then he turned to acknowledge another guest, and my Walter Cronkite moment was over.
When he died, I thought how sad that he left before we could pronounce nuclear weapons obsolete and unnecessary. Yet I was comforted to know that I am still working on some change that the whole world needs. Why? Because Walter Cronkite said so, that’s why.
