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Tickets. Simple tickets.
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Tickets to Meet David Cassidy.
And I stood in line. And got more nervous. And kinda dizzy.
It’s silly.
The whole thing was silly. But silly as it was, I was in line to meet David Cassidy.
With other people who wanted to meet him and talk to him and just be with him.
To remember a more innocent time. A time that was very different from today. Back in the early 70’s.
When we got on the bus every Friday night with the Partridge Family.
And I spent all my babysitting money on teen magazines and my pink bedroom was covered with David Cassidy posters.
And I kissed them good-night.
And I dreamed about him.
And never stopped thinking about what it would be like to meet him.
But never even THINKING it would ever happen.
But I was in line.
To meet and greet David Cassidy.
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And he shook my hand and said,
"Happy Mother’s Day, Sweetheart".
And I said it was very special to me to meet him.
And I was truly in shock.
And it was over.
And then this 56 year old man did a 90 minute concert and he held my hand twice.
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And for a few hours, I was back on the bus.
Filled with happiness and innocence and disbelief that I had met him.
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And my very FAVORITE man took 218 photos so I could remember the day. He doesn’t understand the infatuation, but he accepts that I like him. And that’s all he needs to know.
What a lucky, lucky girl I am.