What Anthony Hopkins told me

They say you should never meet your heroes, but I disagree. I’ve been blessed to have met many people whom I could call my “heroes,” and each one has taught me something valuable that sticks with me for life.

Recently, while talking with someone important to me, I recounted my meeting with Anthony Hopkins. They encouraged me to write down this story and others about chance encounters with those who have had a profound influence on my life.

So, here is the first in a series I’m unofficially calling “meeting my heroes.” This one’s for the man who encouraged me to keep acting: Anthony Hopkins.

When I lived in Hollywood, I would bicycle to West Hollywood, where I worked at a mezcaleria. It was a lunch shift, but the restaurant was nearly empty. In walks a man around my height, completely by himself, no entourage, whom I recognized immediately as Anthony Hopkins. I think he was wearing a blue suit and a white shirt.

He sat by himself and ordered an iced green tea. When it popped up on the bar, I grabbed the ticket and brought the glass to his table. Normally, in circumstances like these, I do my job and say nothing. However, I felt something that cued me; it was a moment I could let one of my acting idols know he was appreciated. So, I very briefly thanked him for his work and his mastery of incredibly difficult roles. As I turned to walk away, he stopped me.

He asked my name, what I did, where I went to school, and what I wanted out of life. It took me aback. I anticipated he might give a polite ‘thank you’ and a wave, perhaps. Not conversation. Whether he detected genuine admiration on my part, I’m not sure, but he chose to engage with me.

His curiosity and genuine inquisitiveness were refreshing. He was easy to talk to. I told him I was an actor, got my MFA from the University of Illinois, and was here in LA doing the grind.

He then asked a very tough question, which was something to the effect of ‘and how are things going with that?’

I confessed I was having a rough go of it, which is a very generous way of saying that I was struggling badly.

And he looked at me with a kind smile and said, “Yes…it’s a tough old business. But it can be really worth it if you stick through it.”

He offered more encouragement—though I can’t recall every word, I’ll never forget what he finished with. As I turned to serve my guests, he said:

“Remember, though, Mike. To always have big dreams. Have big dreams.”

This has stuck with me, and I’m proud to say, I have stuck through it.

Thank you, Mr. Hopkins.