I photo-bombed a Supreme Court Justice – and not just any member of the black-robed superstars of jurisprudence: The very first woman to hold the position of Supreme Court Justice of the United States – the Honorable Sandra Day O’Connor.
StoryCorps, the national initiative that invites people from all walks of life to interview one another and share the stories of their lives, has parked its humble Airstream in Phoenix this spring. The NPR member-station I represent, KJZZ 91.5 FM is hosting the visit. We invited Justice O’Connor to record an interview for the kick-off celebration and media day.
Now, if I were a ring announcer at a boxing match, I would have run out of superlatives to cast like rose petals at her feet long before this Icon of American Awesomeness ascended those three steps into the Airstream: The First Woman on the Supreme Court (FWOTSC), 2002 Inductee into the National Cowgirl Hall of Fame, the woman who managed to work all those years with Clarence Thomas and not punch him in the face, 2009 winner of the Presidential Medal of Freedom, living proof that Arizona exports more than gun-touting, grammar-challenged racists, decider, explorer, author, web developer, peacemaker, small in stature – huge in impact, giant among women and men, Retired Badass from the Court of Last Resort…
And I stood there looking like a dork in the background of an official station photo opportunity. See for yourself.
She arrived in a dusty Dodge Ram pickup truck. Her son Scott drove her. They arrived promptly at 1:30. He called her Mom.
He called her Mom! Not your Honor. Not your Majesty. Not your Supremacy. Just Mom. “Well, Mom and I…” and “Mom does this ~” and “Mom does that ~” and “Mom blah-blah-blah ~”
Not like me who stood there slack-jawed and didn’t even managed to introduce myself, or throw myself at her feet, or offer up the grateful thanks of a nation for her service and fortitude. No, I pretty much committed the cardinal sin of radio: Dead air. Starstruck silence. Frozen awkwardness. Duuuuuhhhhhh.
Granted, I think my employers probably appreciated my lack of genuflection… until they posted the photos online and realized their salesperson was photo-bombing a Supreme Court Justice.
And now I have a large, black, antenna-festooned SUV parked indiscreetly on my cul de sac… and I may not have a job anymore.
Instead, I just have a painful photographic reminder of yet another brush with greatness.
Painful? Are you kidding? This photo is greatness. It should be framed. It should be captured on something that will last for all time … like a coffee mug or a t-shirt or a mouse pad. Oh, wait. It’s on the Internet. So it pretty much will last for all time. So you’re good.