[Kitsa]

True story.

When I was a kid, there was this famous marine biologist I looked up to. I wanted to be a marine biologist more than anything (this was before I realized my health problems meant I could never scuba dive). I memorized books on marine biology. When I was 8 or 9, my grandmother wrote a letter to this scientist and asked her to autograph a copy of her autobiography for me.

Not only did she do that, but she sent me a whole package of stuff, including several letters, autographed pictures and a shark's tooth. The book inscription read, "All the best to (Kitsa), hoping to meet you some day." The letters invited me to write her if I ever had any questions about marine biology.

I spent years fretting over what could possibly be worthy enough to write to this woman. I finally found a shell fragment and sent it to her asking if she could ID it. I reminded her of who I was and reassured her I was reading like crazy so I could be a marine biologist too. She wrote back, ID'd the shell, said of course she remembered me and I could call or write anytime, and maybe I could come visit her college someday and sit in on a class (this was a very big deal to an 11 year old nerd).

Fast forward a year. This is still before internet. I somehow work up the guts to call the number she gave me. I'm thinking it'll go through to a secretary who will take my number and have my idol call me back. In my naive little brain, I'm sure that's how it'll go down. I call, and am horrified when her voice..the voice of the FAMOUS MARINE BIOLOGIST LADY HERSELF...picks up on the first ring and says, "Yes, hello, what?"

I stammered something about being the little girl who wrote to her and sent her the shell fragment and uh uh uh and basically my mind went blank.

She sounded extremely annoyed and said, "Are you a student? What is your email address?"

uh, uh, uh. I'd never heard of an email address. They must have been starting some barebones email in colleges around that time or something. I stammered that I didn't have one, and somehow she tersely ended the call and hung up on me.

I was absolutely mortified. Anything I'd ever gotten from her I gathered up and put into my proverbial "shattered dreams" box. A few weeks later I found out I needed surgery, my physical activities were forever severely curtailed and none of it mattered anyway.

I wouldn't call or email her now if you paid me. I done been scarred.

Moral: never meet your heroes, you'll only be disappointed.