On my way to Montana for the College Rodeo National Finals, I stopped off in Jackson Hole, Wyoming just to relax and mess around some. I'd hitched a ride with one of my team members, and they were out doing the town like young cowboys are known to do . . . and I was hanging out at a bar and dancehall listening to the music. The place was crowded, so I was standing near the back door, leaning agains a railing and watching the band perform. I never would've seen him unless someone close by recognized him and said, "Look! There's Clint Eastwood." I looked around, and sure enough, he was standing a few feet away from me looking like just any other patron. Well, almost. The guy was big, and I'm not just talking tall. He was dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt, and he had big arms like a weightlifter. People started crowding in around us then, and I took my leave as quickly as possible.
I'm not a groupie in any way shape form or fashion. In fact, I wouldn't walk across the street to see a famous face or get an autograph from a movie star. But I've been lucky over the years in getting to see some of these people, and close up. I've even met them, and under unusual circumstances. I've by chance bumped into well known politicians, even presidential candidates, from time to time. I've met a number of well known singers at various functions. I've known some top professional athletes, especially rodeo athletes. But seeing Clint Eastwood impressed me. I've always loved his work as an actor, hardly ever miss one of his movies. He's a big man regardless of his physical size. And now he's 83 years old. Wow! 83 and still going, still working, still a big man. And I'm 72. Atta boy, Clint. You're older and bigger, and we all need somebody to look up to.
I think back on that incident in Jackson Hole with only one regret. I wish I'd taken the time to at least shake hands with him. Damn!
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