One of my favorite lines from television was uttered in the old sitcom Cheers, whose main character was former Boston Red Sox relief pitcher Sam "Mayday" Malone, an alcoholic bar owner.

"Not many people know it," Sam told a barfly one night, "but I'm a pretty famous guy."

It was such a great example of an Irish bull -- a contradictory, illogical statement ("An oral contract isn't worth the paper it's printed on") -- that I have carried it around in my head ever since the 1980s.

It points out that fame is best when spread thinly. I was reminded of that last week as we took our granddaughter Karson along on errands.

Karson is 9 and enamored by the trappings of fame. She is Hannah Montana's top fan, and wherever she goes, she is always singing and dancing in preparation for her big break as a "star."

In addition, she knows I write this column and sees my face in the newspaper each week.

As we rode along last week, Karson asked: "Papa, are you famous?"

My wife and I assured her I was not. That didn't satisfy her.

"Do people ever recognize you when you're out in public?"

"Sometimes. Mostly not."

"It's usually when he's in the grocery store," piped up my wife, who believes it is better to let the family starve than to neglect housework-related activities.

We stopped off for lunch, and while we waited in line to order our chicken, Karson was atypically quiet. Suddenly, she stepped back, looked all around in mock amazement, then exclaimed to the people around us: "Why, it's Glynn Moore !"

She repeated this several times, gesturing at me like a tiny Vanna White reaching for a vowel. All the while, I was trying to shush her, with little success.

Later, as we ate, I heard her giving a hushed heads-up to a worker cleaning a table: "Look, over there, it's Glynn Moore!"

This continued as we went to Lowe's, The Home Depot and so on. She was like my agent, manager and publicity director rolled up into one cute little package.

Then, in a store, a woman walked up and said hello to me by name. Karson was beside herself. Fame!

She is too young to know that fame is a two-edged sword.

For example, do yeoman work on the stage all your life, and you will be known as a respected actor. Get a few supporting TV roles, and someone might buy you a drink. Become a movie star, though, and you will be hounded by paparazzi and stalked by fans.

By the same token, go to the U.S. House, and the folks back home will be proud of you. Get elected to the Senate, and you risk a nosebleed from the lofty media attention.

Worst of all, run for president and your life will change forever. You will never again be able to step outdoors without armed guards. Who needs it?

After our day with Karson, I have decided I possess the best kind of fame: My seven grandchildren know who I am, and, except for Karson's efforts to make me an American idol, they seem to be perfectly fine with that.

Reach Glynn Moore at (706) 823-3419 or glynn.moore@augustachronicle.com.