To My #1 Fan!
Ever wonder who your number one fan is?
Okay, so it sounds kind of pompous to assume any of us have fans…especially if you’re a scatterbrain like myself.
My wife—she’s a fan, but she quit reading my writing years ago. Somehow those little love-letters she admired so much got the ax as acceptable gifts—because people were paying me to write.
My kids—my girls already think I’m just plain silly, mostly because I am. They think the cool people dance like Hanna Montana…and I can’t quite define my dancing style as fitting…even though I’m learning the moves from a 7 and 4 year-old. My son, only 2 years-old, thinks I’m still pretty cool…but only because I think he admires my dinosaur roaring impersonations, and I can still jump higher than him—that’s big stuff to guy who’s 2. Vertical counts.
My parents—eh, parents don’t count. C’mon, they cheered for us when we used the big potty—any cheering after that kind of loses its zeal.
No, I understand that I have a number one fan who lives in Idaho. She is a woman I have yet to meet. And, I must say, I’m flattered by her appreciation of my work. It’s great to be appreciated…sincerely.
So often in life we appreciate the talents of others. We look to those we admire. We seek their approval. Yet, we never stop to realize that someone out there—sometimes across the country, or even across the world—could appreciate our talents. And, we should. We should all know our #1 fans…and at the same time, we should let the people we admire know that we’re their #1 fans.
The world could use a little more appreciation between strangers.
And, FYI…my dancing isn’t so bad…is it? Well, if nothing else, I’ve got the dinosaur roar mastered.