A cousin of mine played the young  Woody Allen in the movie Annie Hall.  My son-in-law recently encountered Kanye West in a men’s clothing store.  My son ran into Shaquille O’Neal in a Los Angeles restaurant.  Sometime prior to that he had watched Harrison Ford exercise in a gym located right  outside his office window.  One of my daughters rode up an elevator alone with Richard Gere.  Carolyn McCarthy began her first run for Congress with a gathering in our home.  Another daughter, a party planner, attended to Oprah Winfrey and Mitt Romney when they arrived at the hotel where she works.  My wife has met and taken pictures with Hillary Clinton, Daryl Strawberry and the late Tony Curtis.

You get the idea.  It’s all about “star power”, meeting “famous” people and the singular sensation we experience at such moments.  Why?  Because we are, often despite ourselves, celebrity hounds who are thrilled when we spot or, better yet, encounter one of these uncommon folk.  That we in America lavish so much attention on them, pay homage at every turn, is beyond dispute.  They exist for us to consume.  Indeed, creating celebrities is itself a substantial industry here, supported by newspapers, fan magazines, television, movies and elaborate public relations operations..  And by a public that accepts the notion that a favored few, often the objects of our hopes and fantasies are entitled to almost unlimited attention and endless celebration.

That explains why people relish celebrity sightings and are most eager to share their good fortune with others, who eagerly insist upon details.  What’s this excitement all about?

To be in close proximity to someone so familiar and famous represents a rare and unique moment, a serendipitous opportunity.  It allows individuals to view themselves for the moment as less ordinary, as if some of the glamour and unquestioned “star” luster had rubbed off on them.  Call it “gilt by association”.  On the other hand, a leveling phenomenon may also be in play.  To be in such close proximity creates the illusion that you’re both on an equal footing, quite distinct from the usual relationship in which celebrities occupy commanding positions in elaborately orchestrated settings.  This is reinforced when celebrities are sighted in normal surroundings, or dressed plainly and are engaged in commonplace activities – shopping, eating, hailing a taxi.  This all contributes to a sense of authenticity.  These folks, at that moment, appear down to earth; they’re not  posing or playing to the crowd – they seem real.

Having had such encounters puts us at an advantage, obligates us to tell others what we’ve witnessed.  Will they be interested?   You betcha.

The voice over the phone tells you that “an operator will be with you momentarily”.  Back to the phone on another occasion you’re informed that “the waiting time is approximately five minutes.”  Sitting uneasily in the physician’s office the response to your inquiry is that “the doctor is running behind, but will see you shortly.”  Standing in a crowded restaurant you’re assured that “a table will be opening up real soon.”  Waiting impatiently at home for a service person to arrive you call in and hear that “he’s on the way and should be there in a matter of minutes.”  Having ordered your meal some time ago your question to the waiter prompts him to respond that “your food will be out momentarily”.  Standing alongside your disabled car after much time has passed you call back and hear that “you’ve not been forgotten” and that “the truck will be out to you very soon.”  Closer to home, as you prepare for a night out, your wife reassuringly tells you that “I’ll be ready in just a few more minutes.”

Given my experiences with situations such as these, it’s fair to conclude that everyone who tells you your wait is about over – LIES!

Most all who convey such news have had considerable experience with this sort of thing.  They know how impatient people can be, how the potential for rage lies just below the surface and that matters can easily get out of hand to the great distress of all involved.  They understand that they cannot ignore these inquiries or respond with information that does not offer hope.  They recognize how important it is to be reassuring, even sympathize with those experiencing delay – even as they themselves remain uncertain how much time actually will elapse before the “problem” is resolved.  Every encouraging word buys additional time:  the clock gets reset,  begins anew with each successive inquiry.

And on the other side, repeated reassurances are welcome, even if unconvincing. Most folks have been there before, consider the verbal sparring as part of the process.  Each side accepts their role, both aware  of how the game is played..

At a recent exhibition of the work of artist Georgia O’Keeffe I took note of a statement attached to the wall above one of her nature paintings.  “If only people were trees”, she was quoted as saying.  “I might like them better.”  The context for this flight into misanthropy was not disclosed, but since O’Keeffe lived to the age of 99 one could assume her observation was based on long-term, first-hand experiences.

Human beings are classified as social animals which means we spend our lives linked to and dependent upon others.  We’re not, however, necessarily or naturally disposed to like them and, as O’Keeffe reminds us, that’s often the case.  Some portion of  our distaste can be attributed to social distance, ignorance and fear, i.e., there are categories of people for whom many can muster little understanding or sympathy, reflexively dismiss as unacceptable.  These might include recent immigrants, the poor, the elderly, Southerners, Republicans, Democrats, Jews, Evangelicals, etc. Many people, one senses are susceptible to a broad spectrum of prejudices.

It is unlikely that O’Keeffe was giving expression to such blunt and undifferentiated animosity.  Rather she was probably reflecting upon all those people she had found disagreeable over her lifetime.  Here is where many of us, I suspect, would agree.  Over the years who hasn’t repeatedly encountered individuals whose presence could barely be tolerated.  Consider such types as these:  Take those persons almost totally consumed with themselves, consistently self-referential, and given to acting “superior”.  To them no other subject counts for much.  Your efforts to change topics rarely succeed; your views barely  register, and are largely ignored.  This type cannot always be distinguished from the relentless “show off”, i.e., the person ever in competitive mode, who must consistently “outshine” others, whatever the circumstances.  Then there is the “ideologue”, ever maneuvering to bring the conversation around to some unwavering belief, be it that the wealthy control everything, the United States is heading toward ruin, everyone is out for themselves, politicians are totally unprincipled or that today’s younger generation just doesn’t measure up.  Then, too, there are always the “fools” who must be suffered – the parochial, the paranoid and the prejudiced.

One must assume that O’Keeffe encountered many such folks throughout her life leading to her overall unflattering characterization of people in general.  On the other hand, we should not accept uncritically her dismissive attitude toward fellow human beings.  Part of the fault, to paraphrase Shakespeare, may not simply rest with others, but, often enough, resides in ourselves.

From early on, when some of us were latch-key kids; we understood how important keys were.  They opened doors to places where we needed to be.  If we were entrusted with them it was critical that we not lose them (or hope that a neighbor, given a spare, would be at home).  As the years passed on, rings or holders had to accommodate a growing number of keys:  front and back door keys, mail box keys, office keys (including one for the bathroom), vault keys, locker keys, car keys, trunk keys, keys to neighbors’ doors and parents’ apartments.  As keys were added, key rings grew heavier and more unwieldy; and finding the right one predictably more challenging.  Fortunately, keys were not all alike and in time we learned to recognize most either by color, size, shape or teeth configurations.  Or we added a piece of tape or altered the surface area somehow for easier identification.  But then we complicated matters by adding new keys from time to time.

Every so often, frustrated by delays in picking out the right one, we’d consider lightening up, pruning our key rings.  Reduce the number we carried to more manageable levels – a worthy task to be sure.  Easier said than done.  On the ring were some whose purpose could not be recalled.  No doubt several were no longer needed, but how could we be sure?  Where there was no uncertainty we disposed of the key.  But that still left a few for which we could not account.  So we keep them on the ring, hoping that one day we will.  Better safe than locked out.

Now, I know that these days more men than ever are considered to be serious shoppers.  No longer is it considered the exclusive domain of women.  But that’s how I’ve long regarded it.  For me food shopping represents my limit.  Even then the list must be manageable, and the supermarket layout familiar.  I’ve always assumed that shopping was what women liked to do, perhaps equivalent to the preoccupation of men with sports.  Supposedly women thrive on it, happily spend hour after hour roaming the aisles, may even consider it an adventure (even when they emerge empty handed).  That this is an overtly sexist viewpoint is undeniable; still time and again I’ve witnessed women going at it most methodically, heard them express their passion for and commitment to the task.  Might there be a genetic disposition here?

Being a shopping outsider lacking in style or strategy, I’ve never stopped to consider or analyze how the process operates.  On the surface it seems to include considerable poking around, punctuated by occasional euphoria, interspersed with periods of indecision and frustration.  Recently I had the opportunity to gain greater insight when I went shopping with my wife.  The following blow-by-blow account will reveal how seasoned shoppers go about their business.

Off to a department store we went to buy a duvet cover for our blanket.  We had consulted with a decorator who selected one for us to consider.  After locating the duvet section we spotted one quite similar to what she’d recommended.  The cover was, however, just one-fifth the price she had quoted.  “Too inexpensive.”  Couldn’t possibly look or feel as good.  Might buying it “offend” our decorator, who’d surely conclude we had “cheaped out”?  Besides, would the design color match the rest of the area?  That depended on our ability to mentally reconstruct the room and gauge how the cover related to other elements there – not a simple task.

As I soon discovered, a shopper may be prone to a snap decision, but rarely is it the final one.  Almost always it’s followed by a period of hesitation and reconsideration.  Initial enthusiasm often fades and alternatives are then examined.  While men are likely to be impatient impulse shoppers, women tend to be far more deliberative and reflective.  That said, our initial selection ended up back on the shelf.

Other possibilities were now up for consideration as we walked back and forth at the shelf displays.  We discovered one with an interesting stripe and appropriate color.  Better yet, it was on sale.  But stripes are tricky.  It could look too busy and clash with the rug and our window treatment.  Perhaps it’s better to play it safe.  Sure enough, right next to it there’s one completely white with some tasteful design features as well; also on sale.  Is it too bland?  What will it add to the room?

My suggestion – buy them both.  Once home we’ll put each on the bed, determine which works best and return the other.  She agrees.  And off we head to the register.  But before we arrive, she’s decided the stripe won’t work and has me return it to the shelf.

Back home now she goes on line and locates the specific duvet cover recommended by the decorator.  “I think it will work,” she declares.  Tomorrow we’ll return the one we just bought.”

So, what did I learn from this shopping excursion?  Shopping is not about settling.  And is not the simple task that is may appear to be.  It involves several stages from quest to decision and then to reconsideration and frequently to return.  My role I realized on this occasion progressively diminished:  women do have the upper hand here.  My opinion was valued, or at least solicited, but was not determinative.  I saw no reason to assert myself inasmuch as her taste and visual sense I considered superior to mine.  Plus, I preferred not to be held accountable for the final choice.

I also discovered how counterproductive it would be to impose a time limit here, how important it was for the entire process to play out, to proceed through its normal cycle from search through selection with indecision and confusion along the way.  Skip a stage and you risk upsetting the natural rhythm of the shopping process.

I will never be a “shopper”.  But then I will never underestimate or fail to appreciate the thought, imagination and persistence that precedes many a purchase.

I was going through a batch of photographs taken at my daughter’s recent wedding.  Which ones did we want enlarged and duplicated?  Naturally enough we all are drawn to those in which we “look good”, while rejecting the others (which renders group pictures problematical.  Rarely is everyone “looking good”.  What follows then are negotiations in which some accept less than perfect pictures of themselves in deference to those who believe they’ve never “looked better”).

But that suggests a larger issue.  All of us go through  life gazing at pictures of ourselves, easily hundreds, more likely thousands of photos.  How do we judge then?  By comparing what we see with an “ideal” we’ve constructed regarding our appearance.  If the picture does not match or exceed expectations we reject it, claim that it is distorted, or that it captures an awkward moment or angle.  (“My eyes were closed”.  “My smile was forced”.  “I look heavy”.  “I don’t like my profile.”)  When on the other hand it conforms to our elevated self-image we are delighted, proclaim it to be a “true likeness.”

What we generally fail to acknowledge is that all of the pictures capture us in one way or another.  Indeed these momentary snapshots reveal that we do look differently at different times.  After all, most of us recognize that we have our “good” and “bad” days, days when we are pleased with our appearance, stride confidently out into the world, and others, when all the elements seem in disarray, when we realize we’re not at our best.  We may discard pictures of such times, but we shouldn’t pretend that they’re inaccurate and unrepresentative.

Still, selecting pictures of ourselves allows us an opportunity to edit our lives, put our best face forward.  What’s wrong with that?  We can’t erase what’s gone wrong in our lives; we all have to live with the consequences of our actions.  But by choosing the photos that are flattering and disposing of the rest, we’re able to create an image much more to our liking.  We deserve that chance to have it our way.

Various wise men have, over the years,, reminded us that in America, where no inherited aristocracy ever existed and where we’re all supposed to be equal, people will persistently seek advantages and privileges so as to distinguish themselves from the rest.  Knowing this, those catering to the public seek to capitalize on this urge for exclusivity, differentiation and distinction.

I was reminded of this the other day when a friend spoke of a ferry trip recently undertaken along the coasts of New York and Connecticut.  The ferry company requested that passengers and their cars be at the dock an hour before departure.  Unwilling to wait around he inquired whether another category of reservation was available.  Sure enough, by paying a premium price he could arrive later and what’s more proceed to the front of the line of cars, so positioned that he could, upon docking, immediately drive off the ferry.  He proudly displayed a picture he’d taken of his car’s forward position at the boat’s bow.

Advantaged people are everywhere.  First class passengers on airplanes have long been treated to superior accommodations and service.  Even before boarding they’ve been able to wait most comfortably in airline VIP lounges prior to take-off and, for an annual fee, been entitled to avoid the inconvenience and indignities of the security lines.

“Membership has its privileges,” proclaim our credit card companies, which accordingly offer a somewhat bewildering deck of cards of various colorations (platinum, gold, silver, etc.) that enable bearers to select from a wide variety of special services and opportunities.  The banks have followed suit by encouraging well-heeled depositors to sign up for special treatment whether it involves free checking, waiver of fees, overdraft immunity or the attentions of “personal” bankers.

The list goes on and would include those so favored as to be able to avoid rope lines and enter a “hot” night spot directly; to those purchasing same-day preferred seating to a sold-out Broadway hit show.  Then there are those able to command highly desirable tables at chic restaurants, get “comped” at plush gambling hotels or get seated comfortably at exclusive sky boxes above the crowds at major sporting events.

The top one percent are automatically privileged given their enormous wealth and unquestioned influence, but that doesn’t stop strivers within the remaining 99% from scrambling for advantages, ever eager to rise above the common herd.