In Which Our Heroine Remembers A Celebrity Sighting

I was saddened to hear today of Ed Bradley's death. I always thought he was a class act for a journalist, and even have a mini-tale to tell of him.

It was probably the mid-80's, definitely around Christmas time; the weather was quite cold but not snowy. I was walking up Fifth Avenue right near Rockefeller Center in the middle of the day. I don't know why I would have been anywhere near such a tourist-infested stretch of Manhattan a few days before Christmas, but I did work fairly close to the Rock then, or perhaps I was there deliberately searching for a one-of-a-kind holiday gift.

Among the oblivious swarms of passersby heading past me downtown I noticed a tall good looking black man in a drop dead gorgeous fur coat. My attention was initially riveted on the beautiful coat, but as I looked up into the man's face I realized it was Ed Bradley - complete with his signature diamond earring. I must have had a startled expression of recognition on my face, and as his eyes met mine, he nodded briefly and gave me a small smile.

It was such a quintessentially New Yorker spies celebrity moment that it not only gave me a mild mood lift the rest of the afternoon but was something I've never forgotten.

Remembering that incident and writing about it pings a twinge of nostalgia in my heart - for a time 20 years ago when I was a bit more innocent, and for a time when a handsome black man could walk down the street wearing fur unironically.

Requiescat in pace, Mr. Bradley.