Famous at Osgoode - Oct. 26th

Today I really did run into a famous person. It wasn’t Prince, but I’m pretty sure it was The Artist I Think It Was. I recognized him because we’d met before. Not only that...he kept hanging around, probably to figure out if I, too, was The Person He Thought I Was. ("Yes, as a matter of fact, I am!")

Toronto being the centre of the cultural universe that it is, many famous people ride the subway. This must be a huge challenge for them. When I sing on the subway and people notice me, at least I don’t have to stop and politely answer the question, "Aren’t you Lynn Harrison"? ("Why yes!")

This particular Famous Person (name withheld) is primarily famous in Canada, although he has had some success in the States as well. Twenty years ago he and I were involved in the same amateur performing organization. (He was, it should be noted, an Artist More Likely To Succeed Than Me even then.) We didn’t know each other well, but as I watched him today I could tell he had a nagging feeling he knew me. He gave himself away when he casually drifted over near my post and back again several times.

Today I played and sang better, at times, than I ever have in the subway. In fact, if some form of evaluation were possible, I bet that my rendition of Smooth Stoneswould be the best I’ve ever done. (This is one of my older songs, written in the mid-nineties. Over the course of my career, I have probably played it hundreds of times—and twenty times this last week alone. So: you only need to sing your songs four hundred times to make them sound fantastic in a subway station!)

However, the song I was playing when Famous Person kept casually walking by was Einstein's Brain, and I managed to screw it up magnificently—not only forgetting a chord but saying "Rats!" a couple of times when I missed it. (At least I won’t be cited for profanity on the TTC.) It was weird. I rarely red-flag my mistakes anymore—even on stage.

Of course, I did say "rats" ("@#%$!" "*#@#@!", etc.) a lot when I was just starting out…that is, when Famous Person used to know me.

Anyway, he didn’t stop, and I hardly blame him. After all, I would have said hello, and confirmed that we had this long-ago tenuous connection. He’d think I’d want him to somehow assist my career in some way, which actually I wouldn’t. I know he can’t really do anything. He’s probably wondering what his own next gig is going to be.

And he’s so famous, he can’t sing on the subway.

(If you’re reading this, Mr. Famous Person: Yes, we did used to know each other. I love your work. I hope you liked the song and can use it in your next movie or something. I promise I won’t screw it up, but if I do I’ll be very funny and charming.)

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Osgoode must be my unofficial Lucky Station so far. Another person asked the magic question "Did you write that?!" (In Spite of It All). He bought a CD.