The Michael Collins Almost Made It Award

Michael Collins died this week. Michael Collins, the man who came SO close. Michael Collins, Apollo 11’s Third Man. The man circling the moon in his cute little orbiter while Neil (One Giant Step) Armstrong and Edwin (You Can Call Me Buzz) Aldrin got to play on the moon!

So close and yet so far–how many times in your life have you been there? The job you were the “best candidate” for, but somehow didn’t get (remember me, Resurrection Medical Center?) The game show you were chosen to be on, but from whom you never got the final call (I am talking to YOU, Family Feud.) The Mega-Millions Super-Duper Jackpot you were only ONE NUMBER AWAY FROM (okay-that person never was and never will be me.)

In the late astronauts honor it’s time for the Michael Collins Almost Made It Award. And here are the nominees.

His Royal Highness Prince Charles Philip Arthur George, Prince of Wales: inching ever closer to the throne, but will he ever get there?
Actor Phil Bruns. Who is he? Mr. Bruns played Morty Seinfeld (Jerry’s Dad) on exactly one episode of Seinfeld, only to be replaced in future episodes by Barney Martin. Poor Phil, he never made it to Del Boca Vista.
Stu Sutcliffe and Pete Best. The almost Beatles. ‘Nuff said.
A long line of “Miss America” runner-ups. The only exception, Suzette Charles, who received the 1984 crown when Vanessa Williams was stripped of her title.
Zeppo Marx. Would you recognize him if he passed you on the street?
Vicente Yanez Pinzor, captain of the sailing ship Nina that accompanied Christopher Columbus way back in 1492. No cities named after him! No statues to be torn down, either.
Rosalind Franklin–her work paved the way for discovering the structure of DNA–but it is James Watson and Francis Crick who get credit for the “double helix.”
Richard Burton was nominated for an acting Oscar 7 times without a win. He’s a near-misser even for the record on that –Peter O’Toole, and now Glenn Close beat him out with 8 losses each.
How about Al Gore. Eight years as VEEP, one heartbeat or one impeachment conviction away from the presidency, and then to ultimately win the popular vote for the highest office but be bounced by the Supreme Court. You can’t get much closer to being the most powerful man in the world than that.
Garth Brooks. Although I guess it’s not too bad to be the second best-selling musical act of all time with 156 MILLION units sold. That’s a mere 27 million units behind the Beatles (but about 155.999 million units more than Stu Sutcliffe and Pete Best.)

So there you have it, also-rans and almost haves. Who would you choose for the Michael Collins Memorial Award?

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Jeopardy! Needs Me. You just have to let them know.

C’mon people I need your help. I don’t think I can do this without you.

LeVar Burton has been added to the list of celebrities who have been, or will be, guest hosts of Jeopardy! How did he get there? A petition with over 240,000 signatures convinced the powers-that-be to give him a shout-out.

I first mentioned my desire to host Jeopardy in 2018, when rumors of Alex Trebek’s potential retirement first surfaced. Like all of you, I was saddened when we learned that instead of retirement, it would be fatal pancreatic cancer that would end Alex’s reign. But just as Walter Cronkite transitioned to Dan Rather, Johnny Carson to Jay Leno, and Willard Scott to Al Roker, our TV idols eventually get replaced. And I want in.

So let’s see. Do I stack up against the “celebrities” that have been filling in for the last few months?

Like Ken Jennings (first guest host), I am a former Jeopardy! Contestant. No, I didn’t win a gazillion episodes and two gazillion dollars, but just being there is what matters, right?
Like Mehmet Oz (March) and Sanjay Gupta (June) I am a doctor. I can pronounce all the Latin medical terms such as medulla oblongata that may crop up. And I know what they mean.
Like Mayim Bialik (host May 31-June 11) I am Jewish. Not really that important, but it does allow me to use the space laser if any contestant should get out of hand.
As a kid hanging out at Wrigley Field, I got an autograph from Jack Buck, the father of Joe Buck, who will be hosting in August. That’s just one degree of separation, so close enough for me.
With my white hair, I have the same distinguished, intelligentsia look as Anderson Cooper (current guest host.) Got to keep the show on the high-brow side.

I know there are a whole bunch of other guest hosts that I can’t quite compare to: Robin Roberts, Aaron Rodgers, Savanna Guthrie. But isn’t it time to give the little guy a break?

So someone out there–start a petition, write me a slogan, push my cause. I want to be a guest host too!

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This Morning’s Drive-Hell Ride at 85

My hands are gripping the steering wheel as if it is the only thing keeping my anchored to the ground. My knuckles are white. I can feel my eye balls bulge; my heart is palpitating in fear. My morning experiment has turned into a joy ride from hell.

I have described my drive down the tollway to the lab many times before, cruising in the left lane, at a speed I feel comfortable with, in control of my current ride. I will pass some cars, others will pass me–but it all feels balanced and I am relaxed and feel safe.

But construction season is in full bloom, and lane re-configurations are sprouting like dandelions. Suddenly this morning my left lane has split from the three right lanes and has become a single lane of speeding adrenaline.

The morning mist limits visibility and leaves the tarmac slick. The left shoulder widens and then narrows, pincering me between concrete barricades to my right and my left. There is no room for the slightest mistake, the slightest bit of over or understeering.

I feel like Tiger Woods barreling towards a crack-up. I want to slow down–hell, I want to stop. But a glance in my rear-view mirror confirms that the headlights of the car behind me are bearing down on my tail. I see the driver’s face, relentless. If I reduce speed, can she? Would she?

As if this is not enough of a horror show, my audiobook is rattling my nerves further as it describes a teen boy contemplating a swan dive into a quarry pond from a cliff 180 feet high. Will he risk his neck to impress the bikini-clad classmate below? Or will he wind up like a previous diver, with a smashed jaw and every tooth broken? Just what I need to hear.

I am reminded of my freezing in panic when I climbed the Mayan pyramids at Chichen Itza. This time if I freeze, there won’t be a friendly traveling companion to get me moving again. I am on my own. And I am scared.

At last, I see the “Merge Ahead” sign. I meld into the other traffic, moving to the right lane where I can slow down, loosen my grip in the wheel, and let my blood pressure drop into a normal range.

Three minutes later I am at the lab, in my office, putting on my mask. The day has begun.

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