Maybe it’s the gray hair that causes people to keep getting me mixed up with other older folks.
The latest case of mistaken identity was at my granddaughters’ elementary school last week.
We have three granddaughters there, so it’s hard for them to stay together in the car line. I usually park near the school and walk over to the bus loading area to get them.
I was sitting on a bench on a perfect day waiting for them to be dismissed. A teacher leading a crooked line of kindergartners to the bus stop passed by.
One of the first boys in line said, “I like your clothes.” We had graduation that day at the university, so I was more dressed up than usual. Slacks, dress shirt, tie, sport coat and sunglasses.
I thanked him, and a little girl with a big smile said, “I have seen you on TV.” Her teacher asked what show she had seen me in.
The girl stopped in front of me, which brought the whole line to a halt. She studied me for a second and asked, “Are you Joe Biden?”
It turns out that Joe Biden was in Louisiana that day visiting New Orleans and Lake Charles to push his infrastructure plan. But I don’t think he made it to Natchitoches.
The teacher said the girl is extremely smart and could have had a long conversation about the president…
My wife is 19 years younger than I am, but my gray hair makes the age difference seem ever bigger.
Not long after we married 20 years ago, I joined her and the Pre-K class of four-year-olds she was teaching at the time for an afternoon performance of the Christmas Gala at Northwestern.
She and her students were already seated on the front row of the auditorium when I got there. The most rambunctious boy in her class was sitting by her.
In a voice that could be heard all the way to the balcony, he asked, “Is this your daddy?” She explained that I was her husband, and the boy wanted me to sit with them.
Not long after the program started, another kid was acting up at the end of the aisle. Regina had to deal with him and told the other boy she was corralling to go with her. “I’m staying with your daddy,” the boy said.
Regina looked down the row at us and saw the boy whispering to me. She asked afterwards what he was saying and I told her he wanted me to hold his hand. “What did you do?,” she asked. I said, “I held the little terror’s hand.”
He asked early in the program how long it would last. I told him it would be over in a little while when Santa Claus got there. He told me to wake him up when Santa came and then slept through the rest of the songs and skits…
On a trip to Hawaii in the 1980s, a waiter came to our table and asked if I was Bob Uecker, known as “Mr. Baseball” and another gray-haired guy.
I told him I was and requested that he keep it quiet so people would not be bothering me for photos and autographs.
He didn’t keep it quiet. His manager and others let everybody on the island know Bob Uecker was there.
Later when we went to see Don Ho perform in the huge Hilton Ballroom, the singer said Bob Uecker was in the audience and sent some guys to lead me to the stage to sing with him.
I did his signature song Tiny Bubbles and asked Don Ho if I could invite the audience to join me on the chorus. He said, “Hell, go ahead. It’s your show.”
I’m making an appointment to get my hair dyed.
REPRINTED FROM THE NATCHITOCHES TIMES