Yikes, I was eight minutes late. I leaned over, pressed the button that would turn on his voice and laid there waiting. His disarmingly sentimental, evenly journalistic, sometimes interrupted by belly laughs voice questioned the interview subject. I listened to the end of the story and then got up to brush my hair. As if he'd pop out of the radio and notice. I imagine we might much in common. Not just the joy we get from a good cup of joe.
The first time I saw Scott Simon was on the book jacket of his memoir, Home and Away, a story I remember that shared so much about two of his loves, his dad and sports. After years of hearing him on Weekend Edition, I had pictured someone else.
I've since seen him in person, sitting disarmingly on a stool, talking sentimentally, journalistically, and interrupting frequently with belly laughs, about his family, his travels, and his writing. He looks just right now.
My husband was travelling, so I took two of my daughters with me thinking they'd appreciate how he so charmingly tells a story. I mean how he reports on the events of the day. They were mostly impressed I'd been reduced to a simpering 16 year old as I walked around the theater waiting for the doors to open, ignoring that he's married to a beautiful, funny woman from France and has two adorably bright children.
My family named it before I did. He's my celebrity crush.
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