Most of life’s important moments happen far from the spotlight
I was standing in the green room at CBS Morning News in New York when a familiar face entered the room. I should say a familiar voice, because I’m terrible at recognizing famous people. “I hope they have good coffee in here,” he said, as he scanned the room like a man on a mission. That’s David Cassidy, I thought, as images of the 1970s heartthrob and Partridge Family icon flashed through my mind.
I grabbed a small paper cup, poured him some coffee, and handed it over. We chatted for a moment about fame — how strange it is, how fleeting, how isolating it can be. “People think they know you,” he said as he blew gently into the hot cup. “But they don’t.” There was a sadness in his voice, so I tried to lighten the moment. “I wish my sister Carrie were here right now,” I said. “She had every album and every Tiger Beat poster.” He smiled and admitted he’d heard that a few times before.
I was only with David for a few minutes, but our brief time together has stayed with me for years. I’ll never forget how he changed the subject. He asked me about me. He even asked to meet the guest that I brought to the show, a thirteen year old boy who was blind and autistic, but also happened to be a musical genius. David was facinated. We all were.
This day in New York captured something true about life: years pass, and things fade, but human connection — real connections — live on.
Growing up in the 1970s and 1980s, we didn’t know we were living in a golden age. We were forever young. Riding bikes until dark. Talking on the phone so long our parents got mad because everyone they knew was getting a busy signal. Waiting all week or all year for a TV show. Music mattered because you had to wait for it, save for it, rewind it with a pencil. Saturday morning cartoons, Bubble Yum, MTV, Christie Brinkley, lip gloss, and Calvin Klein Jeans.
This year, I’m staring at a pretty big birthday, and surprisingly, I don’t mind. Age has a way of sanding down the ego and sharpening the soul. You realize that being known isn’t nearly as important as being present. Showing up. Serving people. Loving well. It’s true, you haven’t even met all the people who will love you yet. Grandchildren. Friends. Neighbors. Souls God places in your path for reasons you won’t fully understand this side of heaven.
Years after my encounter with David Cassidy, I read that he died carrying a great deal of regret. How ironic. He brought joy to millions — sold-out concerts, magazine covers, screaming fans — yet somehow never quite captured that joy for himself. His last words were, “So much wasted time.”
Those words are haunting, but they also serve as a warning. As Ferris Bueller once famously said, “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.” Don’t miss it. Go for it! Whatever it is. The time is now.
Come on, get happy.
