Fame

About ten years ago, I remember watching Notting Hill and thinking how much I would love to be famous. It was a passing fancy, but the momentary urge to have the admiration and fortune of a Julia Roberts was strong enough that I remember it still.

Then, at some point along the way, I read a magazine article about Drew Barrymore's life and had an epiphany...

I have a loving, functional family, true friends, a comfortable home, decent career opportunities, and the ability to go and do with relative anonymity. No one cares that I forget makeup and wear off-brand clothes. No one is faking friendship with me to get...anything. No one is scrutinizing my career, the birthday parties we throw for our boys, the number of pounds I've lost post-baby, or my imperfect walk with God, let alone on national TV.

The epiphany? I bet, given the choice, Drew Barrymore would trade places with me. I could be wrong, but the number of celebrities who use alcohol/drugs vs. the number in happy, life-long marriages would suggest otherwise.

Still, this truth didn't become a conviction for me until I started working in the entertainment business (politics, then publishing) and meeting celebrities. My celebrities were not people you've probably heard of, but they have thousands of followers who want to be their best friends, who expect them to ooze wisdom and humor, and who keep them important to their handlers. And these facts, combined with their odd schedules, unusual social circles, and personal idiosyncrasies, often make them a different breed.

I recently asked a friend what it was like to meet the hosts of a national radio talk show, and she said, they're real people, just like everybody else.

Don't count on it. I'm betting they hear a lot more lies than I do, they rarely make new friends, and they're far more conscious of appearance in every choice they make - by necessity.

Some can handle that confluence of circumstances with humility and common sense. Some use it for good. Many cannot and do not.

So why the rant? I'm currently reading Counterfeit Gods, a great book by Tim Keller in which he talks about the idols we worship - the things we make more important than God. I have plenty of my own to topple, but since it's easier to talk about other peoples' problems...

I've been struck lately by how much our society is infatuated with the pursuit of fame. Reality TV. Celebrity mags. Speaking tours. Even blogs. The groping, strategizing, schmoozing, and ogling is...baffling when I think about the lifestyles celebrities have to endure.

So what is the attraction? Why did I momentarily want to be Julia Roberts? I think we believe fame brings power. The power to earn money easily and the power to tell people what to do. And it does. But like so many idols, it only advertises the benefits. The loss of freedom, trust, confidence, and security stay hidden until the person is all alone "at the top."

Ironically, most stories promote the illusion. When was the last time you saw a movie or novel with an ordinary, middle-class mother represented as a happy, fulfilled woman? They've always given up on their dreams, settled for mediocrity. On the other hand, how many movies solve the heroine's problems by making her rich or famous? Even Cinderella had to become a princess to escape her penury.

I'm not about to say that all celebrities are doomed or that I won't have another change of heart in the next ten years. But I will say that God has very graciously taken away some of my ambition in the past decade, allowing me to more fully enjoy who I am and where I am.

Which means that regardless of what Drew would do, I wouldn't trade places with her for all the fame or money in the world.