What I Believe

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noreply@blogger.com (Brad) — Mon, 12 Apr 2010 00:31:00 +0000

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April Fool

noreply@blogger.com (Brad) — Fri, 02 Apr 2010 14:16:00 +0000

Holy jeez. Never, in all my years of having an April first birthday, have I ever had a prank this good played on me (though when I used to sell classified ads and all my clients canceled their ads on the same day, leaving me broke, that was close).

So thanks to my wife Cori -- and all my fellow creative pals -- and all the sites that helped post it. Every damn one of them is a place (and person) I love to read. My wife knows me well -- and it was nice to know that if she wanted to cheat on me, I clearly would have no idea.

Also, best part? My film agent who called and said, "I believed it.". Thanks for the faith. To see the full prank:

From my pal Whitney's Pop Candy USA Today blog.
From Publishers Weekly.
From ComicBookResources.
From IGN.
From Newsarama.
From ComicAlliance.
And from the beautiful Geoff Boucher and the LA Times Hero Complex.

But most of all, thanks to all the family and friends who sent love. You know I don't have "readers." I have family and friends. Always have. That's the ONLY reason I get to still do this and on a day like my birthday -- when I usually get all sappy and sad -- thanks for making me feel so blessed. I never ever forget you're there. Ever.

If I could buy each of you something expensive -- like a first-class Bar Mitzvah -- I would.

xoxo

Don't Tell Me The Odds

noreply@blogger.com (Brad) — Thu, 25 Mar 2010 14:10:00 +0000

This post is also on Heroes For My Son.

I just love this story about the one person out of four million who picked the perfect bracket. It's so simple. So perfect. And it just defies the odds.

There is no impossible (don't tell my son that -- he's still pissed he got a few wrong).

From ESPN.Com

Autistic teen picks perfect bracket
By Eamonn Brennan

ESPN's Tournament Challenge is currently hosting 4.78 million -- yes, million -- 2010 NCAA tournament bracket entries. After two rounds, not a single one of them is perfect . But the feat has, miraculously enough, been accomplished.

Who did it? His name is Alex Herrman, and he's a 17-year-old student at Glenbrook South High School in Glenview, Ill., one of Chicago's north suburbs. Herrmann, who is autistic, picked all the wild upsets you and I didn't see happening. UNI over Kansas. Ohio over Georgetown. Cornell over Wisconsin. Your bracket may have survived. Your bracket might be good. Herrmann's bracket is 100 percent perfect.

"It's amazing," Hermann said. "I'm good at math. I'm kind of good at math and at stats I see on TV during the game."

Alex entered the bracket on CBSsports.com's bracket challenge. CBS did not return several phone calls to confirm entries into its game. His 24-year-old brother Andrew, who helped him enter his picks into CBS' bracket manager, also entered the contest -- and ranks behind 500,000 other people.

“My bracket is totally shot,” his 24-year-old brother Andrew said. “So is everyone else I know.”

Us too, Andrew. Us too.

In case you needed the visual proof, NBC Chicago has the PDF right here . Another fun fact: According to Book Of Odds , the chances of picking the first two rounds of this NCAA tournament are one in 13,460,000, which means you have a better chance of winning the lottery twice over.

Two rounds is incredibly impressive, obviously, but the next step is seeing if Alex's picks can go the distance. Can he complete the holy grail? Can he seal the perfect bracket? Herrmann's Final Four is a bit dubious -- he has Tennessee coming out of the Midwest and Purdue overcoming the Robbie Hummel injury to make it out of the South -- not to mention the fact that the odds of attaining a perfect bracket are 1 in 35,360,000,000. (Or, according to Book Of Odds, "almost 18 times worse than your odds of being killed by a waterspout in a year [1 in 1,988,000,000]." So, um, yeah.) But doubting Alex now means doubting the one person who managed to get the entire bracket correct. In other words, I'm not going to do it.

My First Love

noreply@blogger.com (Brad) — Thu, 18 Mar 2010 14:14:00 +0000

Today is my 15th wedding anniversary. But more insane, it's been 25 years since I met her in junior high. And so, in honor of my love Cori, I love pulling out this old story...

My First Lady
By Brad Meltzer

Our story starts like this: She was the captain of the cheerleaders; I had just moved to Florida from Brooklyn. She was wavy hair, green eyes, and a red scrunchie; I was in puberty. She was popular; I was unknown. She was beautiful; I was entranced. She liked to laugh; I was (somewhat) funny. In time, we met. I was fifteen.

Like most of us at that age, I really didn't think I would marry the person I was taking to my junior high school prom. I was far more concerned with the pressing questions of that now-gone time: Can I afford this limo? Does my hair have enough mousse in it? And if I pin the corsage on her chest, does that mean I got to second base? Even though the answer to all these questions was yes, I still didn't think we were going to get married. Why? Because of the most obvious assumption that currently exists about high school sweethearts: They never get married.

Scoff if you must, but the assumption is real. To prove it, I conducted my own independent survey. Randomly dialing seven-digit phone numbers, I called five people and said to them: "I married my high school sweetheart. What's your reaction?" The responses were as follows:

FIRST PERSON: "Who cares?"

SECOND PERSON: "Who is this?"

THIRD PERSON: "I'm not answering that."

FOURTH PERSON: "Who is this?"

FIFTH PERSON: "What are you doing a survey for?"

Clearly, not a single person believed I had married my high school sweetheart. But quite honestly, I don't care.

When I first met her, Cori was fourteen. Today, she's twenty-six. We've been dating the entire time. Corny? Yes. For real? Absolutely. Make you sick? Perhaps. But whenever I tell people we're high school sweethearts, the reactions are surprisingly similar. They go something like this:

FEMALE STRANGER: "Oh, that is so wonderful. I love hearing stories like that."

SELFISH MALE STRANGER: "I hate to say it, but that's pretty cool." (Subtext: "I wish you were dead.")

NORMAL MALE STRANGER: "Wow, that's great. That's really great." (Subtext: "I wish you were dead.")

The questions people ask me about our relationship also tend to be similar. Roughly generalized, they are usually one (if not all) of the following: (1) When did you know she was "the one"? (2) Don't you feel like you missed out? And (3) How did it happen?

And now, so you don't actually have to find someone who married his high school sweetheart, here are the answers.

QUESTION 1: When did you know she was "the one"?

ANSWER: The moment I saw her. When she walked past my history class, I was immediately smitten. But did I know at that exact moment that she would be my wife? Did I imagine the wedding and the reception and the four unreturnable Crock-Pots? Of course not. All I knew was that I wanted to know her. I wanted to be near her. I wanted her to know me. And that's how it is for many couples today: Whether they've known each other for twelve years, twelve minutes, or twelve seconds, first contact was more visceral than cerebral. When I first saw Cori, I wanted to meet the cheerleader. It wasn't until I graduated from college that I knew I wanted to be with her forever.

QUESTION 2: Don't you feel like you missed out?

ANSWER: Nope. In college, (I went to Michigan; she went to Harvard), we put our relationship to the real test and decided to see other people to make sure we knew what we were missing. If we were going to get married, the last thing we wanted to do was look back at our college years and say, "Damn, why didn't we take advantage of that?" Like most living, breathing human beings, we wanted to lick the lollipop of life. So we did.

It wasn't easy. Although we never broke up, I didn't visit her when she was dating someone else, and she didn't visit me when there was someone I was seeing. Without question, it was the hardest and worst part of our relationship. If I called her room on a Saturday night and no one answered, she got the interrogation on Sunday morning. If she couldn't reach me, I got the same.

When I look back on it, it was a twisted game—a sort of self-inflicted agony that was endured for an unguaranteed future opportunity. But what an opportunity. And when our four years were over, the experiment complete, I had my answers: Other women were always fun, and usually attractive, and sometimes wild, but none of them made me laugh like Cori. None of them made me as angry as Cori. None of them made me as happy as Cori. They may've been nice and cute and pretty and all the other positive adjectives, but none of them could ever touch me, down to my core, like Cori.

QUESTION 3: How did it happen?

ANSWER: To me, this question is the most interesting of the three. Not just because of what it asks, but how it's asked. When people ask Question 1, their tone is one of natural curiosity. When they ask Question 2, their tone expresses disbelief—as if they can't accept the fact that anything can ever be that perfect. But Question 3 is usually asked with a heaping dose of delighted—and sometimes envious—amazement.

In today's world of fractured and hard-to-find relationships, people seem genuinely excited by the idea that a couple could last through the awkward and mercurial stage of life known as teenagedom. As if somehow the existence of high school sweethearts means that stability and commitment and true love are indeed possible for all of us. And that society's quest for simpler ideas and times will finally, joyfully, be achieved. In this third question, people aren't just asking, "How did you do it?" They're also asking, "How can I do it, too?"

So how did we do it? Like most relationships, ours took time to progress. There was no single, magical, warm, mushy, fuzzy-bunny, Hollywoodized moment. Slowly, over time, we stepped forward together. I knew I loved Cori's laugh, and the way she completes my sentences, and the way she looks when she wakes up in the morning, and the way she picks a fight when she disagrees with someone. But is that what makes a good relationship? Of course not. True love is more than a few trite examples.

Eventually, I simply realized that no matter how many women I dated—no matter how interesting, no matter how pretty, no matter how new and exciting they were—none of them could offer me what my high school girlfriend offered me. Unlike my college flings, Cori knew me in a way no one else ever could. She knew my history. This history, however, can't adequately be explained in a mushy narrative. It takes an anecdotal narrative to do it justice. So here goes:

My wife and I were driven to our first date by my parents.
She knew (personally) all of my high school friends.
She knew me when I wore parachute pants.
She knew (personally) all the people I didn't like in high school.
She knew me when I liked Journey.
I saw The Breakfast Club with her (in the theater, smart guy).
I was there the day she got her license.
We studied for the SAT together.
She helped me paint signs when I ran for student government president.
She was in the car when I got my first speeding ticket (the cop called my parents—it was a laugh riot).
I knew her when she was into that Flashdance look.
We celebrated together the day I was accepted to college.
She knew my dad when he had hair.
She was there when the captain of the football team wanted to beat me up.
She was there when my grandfather died.
We went to the senior prom together.
I was her first; she was mine.

Years ago, when I graduated from college, my roommate and I loaded up a U-Haul and drove our belongings to Boston. On the way, we stopped by his parents' house in Dix Hills, New York. I had known him for four years. He was my best friend from college. I knew most of his fears, hopes, and dreams. Without question, I knew who he was. But it wasn't until I walked into his house and saw the room where he grew up that I finally understood where he came from.

Not only did I experience the smell and texture and reality of his childhood—I also saw the pieces of his earlier years: the dozens of trophies he'd won on the track team (he gave up running when he left for college), the clothes he used to wear (lots of suspenders), even the Knight Rider poster that still hung on his wall (hey, we all had a freaky stage). For all of us, the minutiae of our childhoods are the building blocks of our current identities.

For my wife and me, and for most high school sweethearts, the results are the same. Since we met at such a young age, our identities are intertwined. We've spent most of our years together and internalized the word "we." Indeed, our wedding was perhaps the best allegory for our relationship. When we were married, no one asked, "Bride's side or groom's side?" There were no "sides." Because we'd been together so long (twelve years, for those keeping score), there wasn't a person there who didn't know us as a couple.

Does it mean we're more in love? No. Do we understand each other better than most couples? Not necessarily. Do we have better sex? Maybe (think cheerleading skirt). Do we have a better relationship than every other couple on the planet? Doubtfully. In truth, marrying your high school sweetheart is kind of like spending the day with a longtime friend. You have multitudes of shared experiences. So if you pick the right person, you're going to have more to laugh about; if you pick the wrong person, your day is going to suck. Period.

Whenever I meet someone new, I love asking about his or her childhood: where they grew up, where they went to school, what their first job was, what their parents were like. We're not all just the sum of our individual experiences. But if you find out that your girlfriend used to dig the Smurfs, you're probably going to be standing in line at a few too many Disney movies.

As for me and my wife, our twenty-year high school reunion was last year. Neither of us dreaded it. I didn't need to give her the lowdown on everyone; she didn't have to introduce me to everyone she encountered. With my wife, I share my unwritten history. And because of that, she already knows I used to dig the Smurfs.

Send This One To Your Grandmother

noreply@blogger.com (Brad) — Tue, 16 Mar 2010 14:29:00 +0000

This blog is also posted on Heroes For My Son.

When I was little, my Grandmother used to take me to the library. She's the one who introduced me to all those books. Her and all those librarians.

So here's a new hero that someone sent me over the weekend... Boy, I feel like Casey Kasem doing a long distance dedication. But I used to love those dedications, so...this one goes out to Seth.

From: Seth Moore

My Hero: My grandma

For as long as I've been able to remember (though not my entire life), by grandpa has been restricted to a wheelchair. There was no great accident that made him this way, but rather a rare, incurable disease called attaxia. Attaxia eats away at the region of the brain controlling motor functions, slowly causing the victim to become paralyzed, be incapable of speech, and eventually leads to choking to death.

As of today, he is losing his awareness, though whether that is from the disease or just aging, I'm not sure. He sleeps nearly 20 hours a day, and eats very little. I suppose he is a little more "manageable" now than he used to be, but my grandma has never thought of him in that light.

I am 20 years old. I have never once heard her say a negative comment toward him. She worships him, always praising him for what a wonderful man he is, for his integrity, for how much he loves for her given the limited means he has for expressing it. She considers her task of caring for him to be the greatest calling God could give her.

She prays with him daily. She reads the Bible to him because he is no longer able to hold a book steady or turn the pages. He is always the most lucid with her. He is never a burden.

If all of this were not enough, my aunt has the same disease. While she is obviously younger, it progressed in her much more quickly and at a younger age. Sadly, her husband does not consider caring for her to be the joy that my grandmother finds. After years of emotional abuse and neglect, my aunt finally separated from him to live with my grandparents. Grandma cares for both her husband and her daughter.

It was about a year ago that my grandparents and my aunt moved from their lifelong home an hour from my family to a new home twelve hours north. Another daughter/sister lives up there with her family, and she is an RN. They now live in the best assisted living complex I have ever seen, and life is so much easier. My uncle comes over every morning to sit my grandpa up, strap him to a machine to move him to his wheelchair, help bathe him, dress him, take him to the restroom. But in the end, it all comes back to my grandma and her almost stubborn loyalty to this man.

Lunch with 41

noreply@blogger.com (Brad) — Fri, 12 Feb 2010 20:47:00 +0000

Had lunch with George HW Bush and Barbara, whose first words to me were "You took off your hair!"

Percy Jackson's First Kiss

noreply@blogger.com (Brad) — Thu, 04 Feb 2010 16:25:00 +0000

My pals on @eitmonline asked Percy Jackson star Logan Lerman about the fact that I helped write his first kiss on Jack & Bobby. I still love Logan. And was as nervous as he was on set. Okay, he was more nervous. A hundred of us were watching.

Buffy!

noreply@blogger.com (Brad) — Wed, 03 Feb 2010 16:28:00 +0000

My first issue of Buffy the Vampire Slayer is out today. Has my most nerd moment ever. Yep. That's sayin something.

And for those afraid of comic stores (and you shouldn't be), you can go here (Atomic Comics)

We Want To See Your Child!

noreply@blogger.com (Brad) — Thu, 07 Jan 2010 15:39:00 +0000

Did you videotape your child being born (I don't mean the gorey parts, or parts with nudity -- I mean the part where the baby is handed to Mom/Dad for the very first time. The nice for TV part)? You did? Great. Can you...er...send it to us for free? I mean it. With Heroes For My Son approaching, we're again looking for help from the Invisible Army (read: all of you amazing people out there who over and over again help us). Thusly, as we make the first video for the book, we're looking for the following footage (especially that delivery room moment):

any hospital footage of newborn babies and fathers/mothers being handed/holding the baby for the first time
a boy (elementary or kindergarten) playing with an airplane toy
a boy with a video camera
a boy performing a magic trick
a boy playing with toy doctor’s tools
a boy writing letters or doing “writing” school work
an elementary school boy playing a musical instrument or a toddler banging on or playing with one, or singing with a real or toy microphone, or at a concert/pageant
a boy in a grade school play
a boy in cap and gown at elementary or high school graduation
a junior high or high school boy giving a speech

If you have such footage, please shoot me an email and I'll tell you where to send it. As always, I'm at bradmeltzer27 [at] gmail.com. Or through facebook or twitter or anywhere else we pimp.

Much love and thanks for doing this. And yes, we're gonna try and make your little one a star. But in a good way.

Dad's Surgery

noreply@blogger.com (Brad) — Tue, 05 Jan 2010 15:30:00 +0000

Didn't want to post this until I knew the outcome, but just wanted to let you know that while everyone else was spending their holidays trapped in airports, we spent ours in the hospital, as my Dad had some open heart surgery. Was scary for a bit -- especially when his kidneys decided to stop working and he went into renal failure -- but thankfully, he bounced back and is now home and starting the real recovery.

I will say, it really did put the year into perspective. There's nothing like six days watching someone you love in the intensive care unit to make you thankful for what you have. And I count you as one of those people that I'm thankful for.

So yes, feel free to stop by his facebook page to post good thoughts and whatever other juvenile humor you know he likes best.

Otherwise, here's to a far healthier new year for all with far less hospital visits.

Dad's Underwear

noreply@blogger.com (Brad) — Fri, 11 Dec 2009 15:13:00 +0000

Yesterday was my Moms birthday. The good news was, I spent it helping my Dad go shopping to make the shift from fruit-smuggler underwear to boxer-briefs. Was easily the funniest, best, most crazy Dad-moment in a long while. But so proud of my Pop for entering the new century. (Special thanks to Craig Rogers, who made me stop wearing those underwear in 1988.)

And yes, I know my Dad's reading this now (because he's friended nearly half of you). But this is how I'm going to get him to laugh. Can't wait to milk all the emotions for a scene in a book. Love you all.

Adoption

noreply@blogger.com (Brad) — Fri, 20 Nov 2009 05:21:00 +0000

For those who have adopted kids -- or know someone who do, this came to me from the sister of one of my first readers (and now dear friend). Of course, feel free to share with anyone you think needs to hear it:

Brad... my sister is in the process of adopting, and had this conversation with her 4 year old son today (who WILL be getting a copy of your Heroes!):

This morning I was driving Nathan to daycare and we were talking about Batman and Spiderman, as we so often do. He asked about what happened to Batman's mom and dad. I told him that Bruce Wayne's mom and dad had died and that Alfred had helped raise him and stayed with him. He asked about Spiderman, where were his mom and dad. I didn't know but that Peter Parker was raised by his uncle and aunt. And while I was prepared to launch into my favorite "all families are different and as long as there is love its a family" schpeel that I love so dearly, Nathan had his own story to tell. He told me that this would be just like for his new sister. That we aren't her first family but that she'd come live with us and we'd love her forever like Alfred did for Batman. He says he will tell his big sister all about Batman and how families can love you and make you a superhero even if you aren't there as a baby first. Yeah... we're going to be just fine.

Title Of The New Book!

noreply@blogger.com (Brad) — Wed, 18 Nov 2009 15:25:00 +0000

Here it is. The winner for the title of the new non-fiction book, out this May. And, the very first look at the cover.

Heroes For My Son.

And yes, it was the biggest blowout vote we ever had. Just staggering. Special sorry to my wife, who lost.

Hugs and thanks to all who voted.

First Look at Brad on Buffy The Vampire Slayer

noreply@blogger.com (Brad) — Mon, 09 Nov 2009 19:34:00 +0000

First cover.

Issue 32.

Out in February.

Georges Jeanty drawing.

And Joss's reaction is about right.

Sesame Street

noreply@blogger.com (Brad) — Fri, 06 Nov 2009 14:58:00 +0000

Happy 40th Sesame Street. And still have my favorites... Sing it with me. Imagine the old animation and that trippy ball: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5... (YouTube)

Wild Things

noreply@blogger.com (Brad) — Wed, 21 Oct 2009 14:19:00 +0000

Saw Where The Wild Things Are last night. It has no business being great. But it is. So manipulative. So perfect. It just replays all the operas from your childhood, and for ten bucks, you have your childhood back. I will watch anything Spike Jonze does. Eggers too.

Also, I love this and I'm so jealous of them. Like seeing cool kids who you know could be your friends. I can just feel the Gen Ys getting started. Proof that they'll always be something new for us.

Jumbo's

noreply@blogger.com (Brad) — Wed, 14 Oct 2009 19:22:00 +0000

Since I'm 15 years old, I've been eating at Jumbo's. I eventually married the owner's daughter. It is a Miami landmark, but it's also the best fried shrimp and chicken anywhere. That's right. Anywhere.

Sadly, because of the economy, it's been losing money by the handful. So take a look at this video and see why history will miss this one.

Click here (YouTube)

Vote On The New Title!

noreply@blogger.com (Brad) — Wed, 07 Oct 2009 15:38:00 +0000

Oh, yes, it's that time again -- Fall approaches, pumpkins appear, and my wife revels in the fact that I'm physically incapable of picking my own title for the next book. In my defense, this is a different kind of title, since it's the first non-fiction book I've ever done.

So first, please help us vote (pick one of these titles only -- and the description of the book is below, but don't read that until you vote). Which title do you like better:

Heroes For My Son

or

50 Heroes For My Son

Yes, I know they're similar. Just vote (you can vote below, or send an email to bradmeltzer44 at gmail.com, or at @bradmeltzer on twitter). You vote? Okay, then here's what the book's about:

Since the day my son was born, I've been writing a book for him. It's a collection of heroes throughout history. Some are famous (like Jim Henson, Mr. Rogers, and Rosa Parks). Some are totally unknown. (In fact, if you have someone you're thinking of, send them my way). But the result is this book -- a gift to my son.

Yes, I know I'm mushy. It's for my boys. I'm allowed. (I'll be even more mushy in the book I did for my daughter, which comes out the following year.)

So there you go. Whatever it's called, it won't be out until May 2010 (yes, for Father's Day), so please vote now. And as always, thanks for putting up with this.

Love,

Indiana Visit!

noreply@blogger.com (Brad) — Tue, 29 Sep 2009 17:49:00 +0000

I'm coming to Indiana this Saturday (October 3rd, 7:30 pm) for a reading, signing, talk -- all the good stuff at the Michigan City Public Library, 100 E. Fourth Street, Michigan City (Google Map).

Call 219-873-3049 for more information and here's a link to the event.

And as always, will sign whatever you want to bring.

Be In The Next Novel

noreply@blogger.com (Brad) — Wed, 23 Sep 2009 14:29:00 +0000

Wanna get your name (or a loved one's name) in my next novel and help a good cause?

Comix4Sight Auction

Save This Blog!

noreply@blogger.com (Brad) — Tue, 22 Sep 2009 22:34:00 +0000

One of my favorite book blogs -- Off The Page -- is in danger of getting the axe, and so it falls to us to prove to the morons who cancel such things that, well...we're reading it.

It's written by Chauncey Mabe and Oline Cogdill, two South Florida folks who have a real love of books and who are vital to the art community here.

So please do click the link and root them on.

Twitter (sigh)

noreply@blogger.com (Brad) — Tue, 15 Sep 2009 13:48:00 +0000

Yes, I'm finally on Twitter, @bradmeltzer.

Happy now, Dad?

Forget Kanye

noreply@blogger.com (Brad) — Mon, 14 Sep 2009 17:33:00 +0000

Forget Kayne. Norman Borlaug died. One of my true heroes (and yes, he's in the heroes book i'm doing).

Penn & Teller on Dr. Borlaug

Summer Books And Movies

noreply@blogger.com (Brad) — Fri, 04 Sep 2009 17:52:00 +0000

Finally back from two weeks away, and just need to recommend one book and one film that're worth checking out.

For the book, it's Stitches by David Small. Yes, I read it months ago, but I think it's so douche-y to talk about a book no one else can buy -- and it's now finally on sale. It was the only book I brought back from BookExpo in May. Yes, it's a comic. And yes, I wish the ending were a hair more self-examining, but man, I promise you will be blown away. Just heartbreaking and wonderful in all the right places.

As for film, for sure, go see the Basterds and District 9, but when you're ready to really get king nerd going (and here comes the douche-y part because you can't buy it yet. God, I'm a hypocrite), go see the independent movie Last Son by fellow Jerry Siegel obsessed Brad Ricca. It'sf packed with never before seen footage/images/facts about Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster and the creation of Superman. And to totally steal from him: There is just "an Earth-2 (and 3) level of cool that two Brads were at different times in the same library having these big OMG moments in seeing this stuff. And (ready for this?) In the EXACT SAME ROOM where Joanne Siegel spread out her mail from her newspaper ad and chose Joe's to answer."

How's that for a benefit? Watch this film and see proof that another Earth exists.

That's the summer catch-up. Novel is coming along. First Buffy script is in. Art is just starting to show up. And big news coming about the non-fiction book, which is now coming out in May.

Senator Ted Kennedy

noreply@blogger.com (Brad) — Wed, 26 Aug 2009 14:37:00 +0000

At 19, I was an intern in the Senate. I got to see and meet tons of senators who couldn't care less about interns. But one day, just as the elevator doors were closing, Senator Ted Kennedy stepped inside. I wasn't a Kennedy groupie. I was 19--I didn't care about Senators. But I still remember looking up and seeing, for the first time in my life, someone who was -truly- bigger than life. I just stood and stared.