| |
CHERYL
MEETS OPRAH 11 TIMES!
In my book "What
in The World Are You Doing" I share some
of my meetings with Oprah Winfrey and
what impact they made in my life. I am
sharing part of the book with you. If
you like this story, you will enjoy the
other celebrity encounters in the book
from Dr. Oz to Will Smith.
There Are No Coincidences
Sometimes you really can't listen to
what anybody else says. You just gotta
listen inside. You’re not supposed to
end up in those mines. You know why?
‘Cause I think you made other plans. –
Miss Riley, “October Sky”
Before my father’s condition had become
grave, I’d walked into his hospital room
to find him watching “The Oprah Winfrey
Show.” Dad knew what a fan I was, and as
we watched together, I recalled that
Oprah’s staff had posted to her website
that they were producing a show around
the theme of dying wishes. At the time,
none of us had any idea that my dad was
truly dying, but he was enthusiastic
about making a video from his hospital
bed asking Oprah to send his daughter to
a taping of her show. Looking back,
making that video was a sign that Dad
knew what was to come, but nobody
understood it at the time. In the video,
he smiled that famous smile of his and
told Oprah why I needed to be at her
show. At the end, I turned the camera on
myself and said, “Oprah, when I come to
your show, I want to interview you and
my favorite actress, Julia Roberts.”
Of course, the realization that my
father was indeed on his deathbed came
quickly, and in our family’s grief and
helplessness, I misplaced the tape.
After my father passed away, the next
three months went by in a daze, and
all I remembered about the video was the
fun we’d had making it. It was one of
the last happy moments we’d shared — one
I will treasure forever. I had
completely forgotten that the tape had
never been sent.
But my wish came true anyway. I got
tickets to her show! I was going to see
Oprah. For the first time in months, my
grief over the loss of my father lifted,
and I allowed myself to be excited. So
before we left for Chicago, I came up
with a little song to the tune of YMCA.
Oprah! I’m your number one fan, I said
Oprah! Nobody else in the land, I said
Oprah! Thanks for all that you do and we
love you, love you, love you Stedman!
Please say my name every day, and Gayle!
Don’t let my name slip away My friends
and family Wanted to be here with me but
they’re watching me on their TV Hey,
Hey, Hey, Hey!
It’s fun to be on O-P-R-A-H! It’s fun to
be on O-P-R-A-H!
You get the idea. I was just so excited
to be going, and the song was a way to
express my happiness.
My girlfriend Erica and I headed to
Chicago for the taping, and the
morning of the show, I was sitting in
the middle of the bed in the hotel room
just daydreaming. Erica looked at me
thoughtfully and asked, “What are you
thinking, Cheryl?”
I smiled a little sheepishly and
replied, “You know, I was thinking I am
like Oprah. I may not have millions of
dollars or a TV show, but I’ve got a
heart like hers. I can see myself having
my own show, doing exactly what she’s
doing.” Erica said she could see it,
too. I was touched, just as I’m always
touched when people believe in me. But I
am even more touched when someone close
to me believes. It is powerful to have a
friend — someone who knows your worst
flaws — appreciate you for who you truly
are.
We were two of the first ones in line to
enter Oprah’s studio that day, but the
last ones to be seated. I just knew we
were going to end up in the back of the
studio audience because of it. That was
disappointing to me because I had waited
so long to get here, but fate stepped in
once again. I got seated on the front
row, corner seat, and right against the
aisle where Oprah enters. Erica was
seated in the row right behind me. We
were so excited! We were screaming and
yelling, making sure everyone knew just
how happy we were to be there. As we
waited for the show to begin, the stage
crew indicated they were having
technical difficulties and would get the
show underway as quickly as possible. So
the audience handler asked us, “While we
wait, does anyone have a poem they could
do or anything they want to say?”
Well hellooooo! I cried out, “I’ve got a
song! I’ll sing it!” So I got up and
began to sing my Oprah song. The
audience loved it. Of course, the song
only took a minute or so to sing, and
they were still having technical issues.
A few minutes later, the same gentleman
came back out and said, “ We liked your
song, Cheryl.” And suddenly, I heard the
melody to YMCA bursting out of the
speakers into the audience. Before I
knew what was happening, I was pulled
back up on stage and was belting out my
song along with the background music. Of
course, you can’t sing anything that
sounds like YMCA without dancing as well
— and nobody loves to dance like I do!
It was a blast. I entertained the
audience while the crew tried to work
out their malfunctions.
After I had gone back to my seat, the
handler asked the audience, “How many of
you like Cheryl?” The audience members
clapped and cheered enthusiastically. He
asked me where I was from, and I proudly
replied that I was Texas born and bred.
He said, “Okay, Cheryl, we’re going to
warm up this crowd.” And he looked at
the audience and said, “What we want you
to do is pretend that Cheryl is Oprah.
Cheryl, come on back up here.” I was in
my element! I stepped up on stage across
from where he was standing, and he said,
“Cheryl, pretend you’re Oprah.” And I
said, “Well then, you’re in the wrong
place. Oprah stands over there. And her
guests are over here.” He just laughed
and said, “Oh, no. What I want you to do
is go out those double doors and come
back in like you’re Oprah making her
entrance. Audience, when she comes back
in, we want you to scream and yell as if
she’s Oprah.” I started sniffling right
then and there, and the audience
coordinator said, “Oprah doesn’t cry!”
And I looked at him and said, “Well, I’m
not really Oprah.” But I was going to
give it a shot.
I marched down that aisle and I walked
out the double doors. Then, I turned
around and faced the doors, took a deep
breath, and exploded through them down
the “I love you” tunnel. It’s the aisle
Oprah walks down as she enters the show,
and everyone’s screaming and yelling, “I
love you!” And they were doing the same
for me at that moment. One woman jumped
out into the middle of the aisle and
gave me this great big bear hug, just
like my father used to.
The audience was still yelling and
screaming at me as I marched up to the
stage, waving to everyone as I sat down.
And then I jumped right back up again
realizing I was sitting where the guests
sit. If I was Oprah, I had to sit in
Oprah’s seat! For that moment, I really
was Oprah. The audience members laughed
and cheered, and then it was time for
the real Oprah to come to the stage. So
I headed back to my seat along the aisle
to wait for the real talk show queen to
come out. As Oprah entered the studio,
and everyone yelled and screamed, she
got to the stage and said, “Wow! What is
going on out here? What happened?”
Everyone just yelled, “It’s Cheryl!” as
they pointed at me. Oprah looked at me
and said, “What happened?” I replied,
“It’s not me, it’s you! They’re excited
to see you.” Oprah proceeded to tell us
what a great show she had for us that
day. “I’m here ... and Julia Roberts is
here!”
I almost fell over from shock. All at
once the realization slapped me in the
face and I knew my father had a hand in
this moment. I had said on that
videotape in his hospital room that I
wanted to interview Oprah and my
favorite actress, Julia Roberts. At that
instant I realized they must have gotten
my dad’s dying wish tape, and I was
going to interview Oprah and Julia
Roberts. I could hardly pay attention
during the show because I knew I wasn’t
prepared for these interviews. I had to
think of what I was going to ask, and
the butterflies kept racing in my
stomach the whole time.
We went through the hour of the show and
Julia Roberts left the stage. The
coordinator told Oprah, “We have to
bring Cheryl up. She has a song for
you.” So they brought me up and I sang
my song once again as I watched Oprah
dance along with my song. Then Oprah
excused herself and left the stage. I
looked at the coordinator and asked him,
“Is she coming back?” He clearly didn’t
understand what I meant. So I asked him
again, “Is she coming back?”
He answered, “What do you mean is she
coming back?”
I said, “My dad’s dying wish. My wildest
dream to interview Oprah and Julia
Roberts. You got the tape. Is she coming
back?”
He said, “I’m sorry, we didn’t get a
tape.”
They didn’t get the tape? Then how was I
there on the day Julia Roberts had given
her only interview while pregnant with
her twins? Suddenly, I remembered: in
the
trauma of my dad’s illness and death, I
had misplaced the tape. It had never
even been sent. This was just a moment
in time, a coincidence.
But, like Oprah says, nothing happens by
coincidence, and what had happened that
day was no coincidence. I was wearing my
father’s praying hands, given to me when
he passed away, and I looked down at
them and silently thanked my dad for a
great time. I only wished he could have
been there to hear this crazy story in
person. |
|



 |
|
|
 |