An amusing case of mistaken identity …

Years ago, I was paying for my purchase at a local beverage store when the twenty-something guy behind the counter read my name on the check. After a moment, he asked, “You’re someone famous, aren’t you?”

At the time, I worked for a daily newspaper, first as a reporter, then an editor. But I didn’t think that made me particularly well-known in this city.

“Famous? Well …” I said, wondering where this conversation was going to go.

“Yeah, you work with chimpanzees in the jungle.”

“Oh, you mean Jane Goodall. Sorry. That’s not me.”

The cashier’s faced turned red. I told him it was okay although frankly I don’t know how he mixed us up. We looked nothing alike. Jane may be close to Joan but Goodall and Livingston aren’t.

So much for my brief brush with fame. It turned out to be a simple case of mistaken identity.

In the small town where I once lived in Western Massachusetts most everyone was famous within its boundaries. When there’s only 1,200 people, it’s easy to know who’s who. That was true of the towns around it. We even knew the hermits who kept to themselves.

Then in my position managing a newspaper in Taos, New Mexico, I did enjoy some notoriety because our paper was so engaged in the community, including public events. Mostly the recognition involved a hello, a handshake or hug (greeting people that way was big there), and in some cases, a look of scorn, likely for one of the critical editorials I wrote.

Now, I live in a village in Western Massachusetts. I am sincerely touched when I am approached by people who have read my books and want me to know that. Thank you.

But I need to share a story about my friend Smitty who had a fabulous experience with mistaken identity. People kept thinking he was the actor Clint Eastwood. I could see how they did. Both men are tall, thin, and have similar facial features.

One time, Smitty was approached by a group of people who thought he was Clint Eastwood and asked for his autograph. He told them they were mistaken. When Smitty walked away, he heard one of them say, “That Clint Eastwood is an asshole” or something close to that.

So not to disappoint Clint’s fans or besmirch his name, Smitty returned to the group to sign autographs. Everyone went away happy that day.