BY TITO CORREA

O MEANS NO." THAT WAS THE FINAL ANSWER from the Norwegian State Press Department. Our hopes for an interview with President Jimmy Carter, to be conducted by our 11-year-old son Gabriel, had met a stone wall. After September 11, 2001, security measures for any official event were understandably extra tight, especially when it concerned a former U.S. president. Adventist Review editor William Johnsson, who was very excited about the idea, sent a letter commissioning Gabriel Correa as a reporter for KidsView and requesting press credentials for him. Only then might he have a chance at approaching President Carter. Surely the novelty of a child reporter officially commissioned by a legitimate publication in the U.S. would guarantee him the necessary press credentials.

We went through all the necessary channels, faxing the letter everywhere. In the meantime we were busy training Gabriel in the art of being an aggressive reporter amid dozens of others with much more experience-and a lot taller-while anxiously awaiting the much-desired press pass. After several days we called the press office. The words "11-year-old" had barely left our lips when we were met with a very abrupt "No!" As a last resort, we even turned to the American embassy for help. The media advisor was kind enough to offer to make a few phone calls to see what she could do. But this too was met with a disappointing no. Thus ended our dream. Or so we thought. The look of disappointment and helplessness on my son's face when he said, "But I reeeaaally want to do this, Daddy," was enough to get my juices going. Without giving thought to the consequences of my words, I responded, "Don't worry, Gabriel, you will speak to Jimmy Carter. To a reporter, no means yes."

Our only option was to try to catch up with President Carter at the hotel where he was staying, so we waited outside around the time he might be getting ready for dinner. The temperature that evening was -7°C. After an hour or so of shivering we took a chance and decided to try waiting inside the hotel. Entering through a back door (the coast was clear), we found seats in the luxurious lobby and wondered how long it would be before someone from security asked us to leave. Sure enough, after a few minutes a police officer approached us. He took a look at Gabriel and then noticed my camera. "Is that your son?" he asked.

"Yes," I answered, "he is reporting for a children's publication in the United States." The officer then asked me if we were trying to get a picture with Mr. Carter. "We are hoping," I said.

He paused hesitantly, but then added reassuringly, "OK!"

Unbeknownst to us, there would be a dinner at the hotel in Mr. Carter's honor, and before we knew it, we were suddenly swarmed by a parade of notables. First, there was Senator Dianne Feinstein from California. Remembering his "home training," Gabriel approached her and introduced himself. "Hi, my name is Gabriel, and I am a reporter for KidsView, an Adventist magazine."

As Gabriel basked in his first accomplishment, the friendly police officer alerted us that someone else important was coming. Rosalynn Carter stood by the lobby steps and noticed Gabriel, who was extending his hand to her. She too was met with the same introduction, and graciously answered his question. Her husband, Jimmy, was not with her at that moment, and I began to panic that maybe he would enter the dining hall through another entrance. But suddenly the unbelievable took place.

The friendly police officer gave us a cue and quickly gave Gabriel instructions as to where to stand. "Mr. Carter will pass through here," he said, pointing to a corridor in the hotel. Jimmy Carter was flanked by bodyguards and assistants as he crossed our path. As always, he smiled at the people around him. He smiled at our friendly police officer who, to my amazement, politely pointed to Gabriel and said, "He would like to meet you." I sensed a softened look on the face of everyone witnessing the event. The burly security officers, who generally have a cornered market on stone faces, were now looking on tenderly. Gabriel extended his hand and managed to get a handshake, of which I nervously snapped several pictures. To the amazement of all, Jimmy Carter stopped and chatted with Gabriel for a few minutes. They shook hands again and departed, waving at each other like old friends. Gabriel's dream had come true despite everything.

This miracle kept getting better. No sooner had Gabriel met President Carter when in walked actor Anthony Hopkins. He shook hands with Gabriel, as he does with fans, and walked on. But for some unknown reason Hopkins stood at the top of the stairs and turned back to Gabriel, with whom he chatted for a moment.

At this point my wife and I jokingly commented that we had created a monster. Gabriel now had the self-confidence of 20 reporters and was determined to follow the events through to the end. At the Save the Children rally, which took place just an hour or two before President Carter's actual receiving of the Nobel Peace Prize, Gabriel was granted special press privileges. With his KidsView press pass pinned firmly on his jacket, he approached anyone and everyone. On his list of "notables interviewed" were Chip Carter, son of Jimmy Carter, as well as some of the grandchildren; Jens Stoltenberg, the former prime minister of Norway; and other Norwegian celebrities.

Believing we had accomplished what we set out to and then some, I was pleasantly surprised when Gabriel insisted on going to the traditional Nobel Peace Prize concert in order to complete his coverage of the events by interviewing Carlos Santana. He wanted to ask Santana about the Milagro Foundation and its outreach to the indigenous peoples of Latin America and underprivileged youth. I knew in my heart that this last feat would be impossible, but resolved that we would at least enjoy the show.

Intermission time came, and Gabriel asked me to approach one of the security guards about letting him backstage to interview Santana. I insisted that no one was being allowed backstage, but Gabriel reminded me of my words: "To a reporter, no means yes." He marched right over to the security guards and asked them for a backstage interview with Santana. I could not bear to witness the scene of rejection, and turned away. Suddenly, to my shock, Gabriel was being escorted backstage. I waited outside the entrance for the 20 minutes of the intermission. The lights were beginning to dim and finally Gabriel came out. His face was beaming. He had a concert program and a marker given to him by Santana. "Daddy," he said, "I talked to Santana. He gave me this program and this pen, and look, he signed here." Sure enough. On the page by his picture Santana had written, "Love, joy, Carlos Santana."

As it turned out, Gabriel was the only reporter allowed backstage. When the concert ended, we floated out of the concert hall and all the way home, unable to take it all in. For Gabriel the best part of the concert was when they showed a clip of his hero Martin Luther King, Jr. He turned to me and said, "I want to interview his son!"

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Tito Correa is a missionary pastor in Oslo, Norway.