Doesn’t everyone write fan fiction about their husbands’ celebrity crushes?
My husband once saw Peter Stormare at our local hardware store. I mention this because my husband saw Peter Stormare again yesterday while he (my husband) was driving a golf cart. It’s not weird — this was on a movie studio lot, where lots of people drive golf carts. My husband said, under his breath, “That’s Peter Stormare.” He wasn’t talking to himself, but to the passenger in his golf cart, though if you ask me he was kind of talking to himself. My husband really likes Peter Stormare. As I said, he said it under his breath, but Peter Stormare looked up like a person who’s just heard his own name and he waved.
There are, as far as I’m concerned, only two possible explanations:
- Peter Stormare has an extraordinary memory. He looked up only by coincidence, but as soon as his eyes met my husband’s he remembered passing him at the hardware store, and waved in familiarity.
- Peter Stormare has preternaturally good hearing. He heard my husband say his name and waved to acknowledge him. Yes, I am Peter Stormare. Thank you for noticing.
Perhaps both are true, as unlikely as that sounds. Perhaps Peter Stormare has the memory of an elephant and the hearing of, well, an elephant. (As an aside, elephants really are remarkable, don’t you think? Other animals with good memories are chimpanzees and octopodes; animals with good hearing include wax moths and bats. If you prefer, you can substitute any of those for elephants in one of the above, to make it less confusing.)
Peter Stormare knows what my husband was buying at the hardware store, and remembers what he (Peter Stormare) was wearing when he noticed that my daughter’s hair is copper colored on the top layers with ash blond underneath. He wondered briefly if she dyed it, but she was maybe five years old at the time and he thought it was unlikely (he was right). He remembers that his (Peter Stormare’s) total was $42.67 and that the weather was fair, but it rained every day the following week.
Peter Stormare once was driving on the 5 freeway when he happened to overhear a conversation between two women several miles away at the Observatory, one of whom insisted that The Wizard of Oz had won for Best Score at the Academy Awards and the other of whom insisted that it had not. Peter Stormare, who of course remembered that in 1939 there were separate awards for Best Score and Best Original Score, and that The Wizard of Oz had won the latter (as well as Best Song for “Over the Rainbow”; Stagecoach won for Best Score), took a detour through Griffith Park to set the arguers straight on the matter.
Peter Stormare feels a kinship to my husband, but of course he does not realize that my husband has a terrible fannish crush on him. Good hearing and an outstanding memory do not equal mind-reading, alas.