My son Andy and I arrived at Yale’s majestic Woolsey Hall at 3:30pm the first day of September four years ago. Andy was entering his freshman year and we were there for convocation exercises, which started at 4.

I was directed along with other grinning parents to the balcony, and freshmen streamed into the hall’s main floor.

It had been an exhilarating, but exhausting day.  Andy and I had spent it setting up his room, meeting roommates and parents, and searching at Target for, among other things, the ideal shower caddy. But awestruck by the grandeur of Yale and the fact that we were even here energized me.

I took an aisle seat as close as possible to the front. The three rows ahead of me were cordoned off with a blue velvet rope. A man in a tweed blazer with leather elbow patches took the seat to my right, smiling proudly. His son would be one of Andy’s classmates.

“Did you go to Yale?” he asked, “Did your husband go to Yale? I went to Yale”

He explained that the rows with the velvet rope were for VIP’s-distinguished Yale Alumni and other special guests. He waved at a few of a few of the people already seated there, and they waved back. I was impressed.

It was nearly four o’clock, and the two reserved seats directly across the aisle from me were still empty.

And then Steven Spielberg and his wife sauntered down the aisle and sat in them.

Steven was wearing a “Yale Dad” hat, jeans and a sweatshirt. His wife, Kate Capshaw, who looked great, by the way, wore a black turtleneck, white jeans and a bright yellow beret.

“Do you know who that is?” gushed my seatmate. We were both trying to text our son’s with the news, giggling nervously.

It should be so easy to meet Steven, I thought, he’s less than a foot away. I could casually introduce myself after the ceremony, but then where would we go from there? Maybe I could befriend Kate. Our kids would get to know each other and we’d all get together for dinner.

It would be nice at least to get together for dinner.

After the ceremony, which by the way was touching and inspirational, I jumped up and practically knocked over poor Mr. Speilberg. “Hi, I’m Laura Shumaker.” I said. “ My son Andy is a freshman.”

Of course he’s a freshman, you idiot, that’s why we’re here!

But by then it was over. Parents swarmed poor Steven-I mean Steve- for autographs, and my new friend and I shook our heads in disgust.

“So tacky,” he said.

“I know.” I replied. “People!”

I met up with my son outside and hugged him. He looked touched. Then I laid it on.

“Guess who I sat next to. STEVEN SPEIBERG! Look, there he his. Go say hi. Do you know his kid? Go stand near him. I’ll take your picture.”

Andy was too cool to say hello to Steven, but he did stand near him, and I did get a picture. I show it to my friends and say, “Look, its Andy with Steven Spielberg!”

Andy did become acquainted with Steven’s son. They played guitar together a few times. They’ve been to the same parties. He pretends to be nonchalant about it all, but I know it’s an act.

“What’s he like? Do you guys hang out? Do you have any classes together?” I ask, and Andy shrugs.

But he can’t fool me.

I remember the look in his eye the day he had his picture taken with Steven Spielberg.

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