The Mural of Stars Signing.

It was 85 degrees and humid. I had thoughtfully chosen my dress, but failed to recognize that I had neglected to consider the effect of humidity when standing next to the slowly drifting Ohio River; my hair was a mess, but fortunately, I was wearing my Stetson straw fedora, which was on the fashion cusp of violating the old saw of putting your summer attire away at Labor Day.

While showing my daughter's two daughters -- Morgan, age 10 and Delaney, age 8 -- the Robert Dafford Murals, I was delighted to find at my shoulder my cousin Kevin and my cousin Linda's husband, Dave. Shortly afterwards, my cousin Linda and her Father, my Uncle Paul, then arrived. Paul is 80 and while he is in reasonably good shape after a triple by-pass, it was hot and humid and there was a long walk ahead.

"I wouldn't have missed this for the world," he said. Just the sort of positive thing he said to me when I was growing up "On Harrisonville Avenue."

On the Ohio River side of the floodwall, a crowd of about 200 was gathering around a yellow contraption. It was a "lift" designed to take a number of people to a height for inspection, or repair, or in this case a "signing." Someone said, "21 feet up to the Star." Great.

I found my wife, Joan, and our Daughter, Terri, with our third Grand Daughter, Cameron, age 3.

Cameron is a strong-willed, "I-can-do-it-myself" 3 year old. She had only napped for about 15 minutes in the car ride to the event and was a little unpredictable in the heat and strange environment, but Cameron was holding up; she had been in unpredictable situations before.

An attractive woman, Crystal, Mayor Jim Kalb's executive assistant, found me. She introduced herself and the Mayor to me, and asked me if any of the children would like to go up with me in the lift. Morgan and Delaney immediately said yes, while Cameron hid herself behind her Mother.

It was my turn to sign. Morgan, Delaney and I ascended two sets of steps and then were inside the cage of the Lift, ready for the operator to take us and the Mayor up to the star where he would introduce me.

"Wait," said my daughter from below. "Cameron wants to go with you." Terri helped her up the steps till she was inside the cage of the lift with me, her two sisters, the Mayor and the lift operator. I held her hand; her older sister Morgan held her other hand while Delaney had her hand on Cameron's shoulder -- and with a jerk, up we went.

"Smile and wave," 10 year old Morgan whispered to her 3 year old sister. "Smile and wave,' she said. So, I did, like Morgan was suggesting.

The Mayor asked me to say a few words (nobody prepped me for that) and I did, although I can't recount what I said.

I signed my star and we waved again and then went down. The girls were very pleased to have done that and I was happy they had too.

Thankfully on the ground, I was greeted by old school friends, some wanting me to sign my book for them. I hadn't seen them since 1960; a thrill for me.

Then I saw my friend, Jerry Jenkins. "60 years ago, I met Ron while in the first grade and we have been friends ever since." he told a newspaper reporter nearby.

The Star is nice and I am thrilled, but the feelings produced by family, place and friends, far outshines the reason we were there.