Friday, the band Journey apparently got a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.

Now, to get a star, you basically fill out a form , come up with $15K, and get a committe to approve you. They get an average of 200 submissions and average 20 new stars a year.

Not the most tough process. Which makes the omissions on the Walk more striking.

Anyway, seeing the press release about Journey triggered an old memory:

I was at a birthday party for the sister of my first real love. We were in the garage, and there was a stereo playing records, and a few people dancing.

She asked me if I wanted to dance, and of course I said yes, having followed her around like a puppy-dog for nearly an entire school year.

She put on "Who's crying now?" and we slow danced, my first real slow dance. Other people were heading off for food and cake, and soon it was just the two of us dancing. When the song finished, she asked if I wanted to dance again, and of course I said yes.

We must have played that song 10 or 20 times. I just held her close, and stared into her eyes. I'm not even sure I said anything, which was probably good, since I'd just make a fool out of myself.

I'd later find out that her boyfriend was in the house, and she was using me to stay away from him and make him jealous. I found out when I thought I was meeting her at another party with friends, which would have been a first date, and when I got there she was already there with him. Later, someone broke the details to me.

But I didn't know at the time. And it was a perfect moment in time, just for those few minutes. It didn't matter that the garage was small and dirty, or the song played over and over and over. It was perfect.

I think you have to remember those moments and savor them, even if sadness followed. People talk about "living in the moment". I can't say I get that at all, but perhaps this is what they meant.