Barbara and Me

Barbara Walters and I both have little Havanese dogs who we adore.


(Barbara's beloved Cha-cha)

And, that’s about all we have in common.

When it comes to intrepid reporting, fearless questioning, breaking the mold, going where no woman has gone before, Barbara is the pioneer—the master.

Me, not so much.

Meeting Barbara Walters has been a dream of mine since I was a little girl. In the fifth grade, I read the biography of Nellie Bly, the ground-breaking, feminist reporter of the late 1800’s, and I immediately knew that I wanted to be a journalist. Other than Nellie, Barbara was the best role model I had—a symbol of possibilities as I watched her on “The Today Show” and later
as the first woman ever to co-anchor a network news broadcast.

Barbara is my Michael Jordan, my Bill Gates, my Mother Theresa—the person who had reached the absolute pinnacle of the mountain I so wanted to climb.

So when I heard that BARBARA WALTERS would be appearing at a bookstore only 20 minutes from my home, I was the first to call and reserve my copy of her memoir, ordering a priority ticket ($13, plus the hardcover price of the book, to be one of the first lucky 200 people in line to meet her!) I was hoping that this premium might garner perhaps a moment or two to speak with my idol, maybe even a quick photo for my mantel.

But when I went to pick up my ticket and book the day before the event, I discovered that a) they expected 900 people! and b) no photographs were allowed—absolutely, positively, no exceptions. I began to think that this would not be my dream meeting after all.

Then I had a brilliant, if late-breaking idea. I freelanced for the local newspaper! I had just this week written their cover story! The editor owed me a favor! I called her and when she said that they had a press credential and Barbara was meeting with the media for a full 20 minutes before the signing—from 5:40 to 6:00, I literally BEGGED for her to reassign it to me, or to at least let me tag along.

(To be continued.)