Years ago, I mentioned that I have a story about Stephen Hawking. Now that he has passed away, I might as well tell the tale.
One year in the early 2000s, my wife and I went to an Ig Nobel Prize ceremony. After the festivities, we headed back to our car, walking through the heart of Harvard Square. We stopped at the corner of a busy street and waited for the Walk signal.
As we were waiting, I saw there was a big crowd of people on the opposite corner. I figured that if they headed towards us, they would fill the crosswalk and Kathy and I would have to navigate around them.
The light changed and we started across. Strangely, the crowd on the opposite corner did not move.
I didn’t have my eyeglasses and the evening light was dim, so I couldn’t clearly resolve details in the crowd. A few steps into the crosswalk, I could make out that the crowd was actually a ring of people, tightly clustered around a central, shorter figure. I wondered if it was a dwarf.
A few steps closer, and I could tell it was someone in a wheelchair.
A few steps closer and … OMFG it’s Stephen Hawking!
I said to Kathy “It’s…” and she interrupted me with “I see him” and kept on walking past them. “She couldn’t really have seen him”, I thought, “or she wouldn’t still be walking.” So like a child trying to get his mother’s attention, I tugged on her sleeve and said “but it’s…”.
She interrupted me again with “what do you want to do, stop and stare at him?” My jaw dropped open. I was speechless, but my brain was thinking “well… yeah!“. Kathy continued to walk past the crowd and I, dumbfounded, was being towed behind her because my hand was still holding on to her sleeve.
In retrospect, I don’t know what else I would have done. The crowd around Prof. Hawking undoubtedly included his nurses and, possibly, a bodyguard or two. If I could’ve gotten through them, what could I possibly say that wouldn’t come out like a babbling fanboy?
Anyway, that was my brush with greatness. Not a close brush, but a brush.
