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Sandy Reay


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©Patrick Bone a cartoon drawing of a boy wearing a red cap, black shorts, and black socks, reading a book called Strange Stories
©Patrick Bone

Damn The Dream

How I Met Celebrities Part 1

How I Met Celebrities Part 2


McCavity, a Real-life Mystery Cat

The Dead Deer
     An on-going true story of how things happen

The Times I Flew First Class

The Sinister Umbrella



Story telling is part of who we are. The earliest bards traveled to tell stories. Poems and songs evolved because the stories were easier to remember if they rhymed, and easier if the rhymes were set to music, which engages both sides of the brain.

Did you have show and tell in elementary school?

Did you know any story-tellers when you were a child?

Did someone read to you at night, to help you go to sleep.

Do you have funny or strange stories about things that happened to you?

Would you'd like to share some stories or comment on any of the stories here?
Please contact Sandy


Check out There's a Dead Boy in the Attic (poem) and The Ballad of Alice the Ogre (song)




photo collage of Judy Collins, Theodore Bickel, and Woody Allen

Do you have a story about meeting a celebrity?
Please contact Sandy.


How I Met Celebrities #1

Click-bait memes ask questions. The one that hooked me was "What was the first concert you attended?" I didn't answer, but I started thinking about concerts. I ignored the school field trips to hear the Denver Symphony because that music lulled me to sleep.

When I was around fourteen, my parents dragged me off to Red Rocks to meet with friends of theirs. We went in the afternoon, scored a place in the front row, and had an early picnic supper. Theodore Bickel (I know, who?) had gone to school in England with my parents' friend. During sound check, Mr. Bickel spotted my parents' friend and invited all of us back stage before the concert.

I met Mr. Bickel and the two opening acts: Judy Collins, one of my idols, and a short red-haired comedian no one had heard of, Woody Allen. He grabbed me, pulled me close, and whispered words I'll never forget, "I'm so nervous I think I'm gonna throw up."

Check out Sandy's meeting with John Stewart


Rose Mofford holding a baby with a page from a document that included the picture



Do you have a story about meeting a celebrity?
Please contact Sandy.


How I Met Celebrities #2

Through my family in Arizona, I was invited to a birthday party in a hotel meeting room in downtown Phoenix. One of the other guests was Rose Mofford, the first woman Governor of Arizona. I exited the car in front of the hotel. My date spoke to the valet, and I watched a limousine pull up behind me. Two men appeared and helped Ms. Mofford out of the vehicle.

I walked up to Governor Mofford carrying a purse, camera bag, and a wrapped present. Somehow I managed to free my right hand and held it out to the Governor. "Hi, I'm Sandy Reay," and told her who my sister was.

She waved off the bodyguards, tucked my hand under her arm, and smiled. "Let's get this party started, shall we?"

During the party, I took photographs of the guests, including a photo of Governor Mofford holding a baby. I sent a copy of the photo to the Governor and got a letter back from her office asking for permission to use that photo in a publication about children.

When I met her again, she remembered my name and called me her "favorite photographer."


horizontal lightning




Do you have a story about an unexpected adventure?
Please contact Sandy.



I was outside gardening when the simultaneous flash and crackle happened directly over my head. High over my head. Iím glad the lighting went sideways, not down. But my hair stood up.

I havenít felt that in over 50 years, since six school friends and I took a VW Beetle west over Rollins Pass from Boulder Colorado to Winter Park. We climbed out at the top to lift the car over a trench designed to keep eastbound traffic from going down the side we drove up.

We waved our hand and sparks flew from our fingertips to anything metal, like the radio antenna or a ring on someoneís hand. Adrenaline gave us will and strength to lift that VW out of the trench and rolling again.

Too bad we didnít time itówe could have set a record for fastest time seven people squeezed into a VW Bug.


The Times I Flew First Class

The First Time

Many years ago, my chronically-late significant other dropped me off at the Denver Airport for the first of three flights that would take me to Athen, Greece. Since I didn't check in before loading started, my seat was given to someone flying standby. My ticket went to the bottom of the stack of people waiting for flights. I had a scheduled 6-hour layover at JFK, so I didn't worry about it. I hung around the gate because I had nowhere else to go and the agent had my ticket.

As the agent called names and gave them seats like 1A, 1B. Lucky people flying in first class. One man, with his wife (he announced in a loud voice), demanded he be given his assigned seats; he would not be happy with any other seats. Each time the agent tried to speak, he shouted her down, louder than before. The agent's her cheek twitched.

Being the shy, quiet person I am, I butted in. "Excuse me," I told the man and turned to the agent. "I think you should give him exactly what he wants, and move the people currently sitting in those seats to the first class seats he clearly doesn't want." I managed to keep a straight face.

The agent froze for a moment. "I can do that."

The man said, "You're reassigning people to first class?"

"Yes, sir."

In a much quieter voice, the man said, "I guess that would be okay."

The agent gave the man his tickets with his new seat assignments. After he and his wife walked down the ramp, she asked me, "What's your name?"

I told her.

She found my ticket. "Your not going to get on this plane, you know."

"I know. It's okay. I have plenty of time at JFK before my next flight." I walked away. She called after me.

I turned and walked back.

She smiled. "Do you want a window or aisle seat?" She held up my ticket.

"I don't care as long as it's the farthest seat from that guy." I waved my hand toward the ramp. "Thank you!"

"No, thank you. Have a nice flight."


The Second Time

Over twenty-five years ago, my significant other took a contract to work in Maryland. I found myself flying from Denver to Dulles Airport in Washington DC about once a month.

One trip, I asked for tickets to DC, but didn't specify Dulles. The agent booked me into National, and I didn't notice when I picked up my tickets. As usual, I changed planes in Saint Louis. When I found my next flight, I realized that I was going to the wrong airport.

Frantic, I rushed to the service desk and fidgeted in line. When I got my chance, I explained to the female agent that I'd mistakenly booked a flight to National instead of Dulles. "I'm sorry. I wasn't paying attention and never asked which airport. Can I change my flight?"

The male agent in the next line leaned over and whispered something to my agent. They changed places. He asked, "What seems to be the problem?"

I went through my story again.

"I heard you the first time. I just wanted to hear it again. In all my years on this job, you're the first person who has ever said, 'I'm sorry. It's my fault.'"

He canceled my flight to National, booked a flight to Dulles, and let me use his phone to call my significant other to explain the change and give him my new flight number and arrival time.

Then, he apologized to me for charging a $50 fee. But, he gave me two $50 vouchers for my next two flights.

With my new ticket and vounchers in my hand, I said, "Thank you," and turned to go.

He stopped me. "By the way, the flight you're on is full. I bumped you to first class. Is that okay?"

I kept a straight face. "No, I wanted to sit in coach."

He nodded. "I'd have to put you on someone's lap."

"Is he cute?"

The agent laughed before I did.


Have you ever gotten a lucky break with an airline?
Please contact Sandy