In my high school valedictorian speech, I publicly declared my intent to
graduate from the University of Delaware Honors Program with a degree in
English Education, then return to my alma mater to teach. In my first
education class, I received an "A" even after being told that
I should drop the class because a freshman couldn’t handle the tough
statistics material. But, when my eccentric Honors advisor, in her
southern drawl, pointed out the glamorous life of most teachers (getting
up early to beat the morning bell, grading papers until midnight, the
paltry salary, and putting up with students flinging boogers at the
blackboard as you lecture on the wondrous world of Shakespeare), I felt
a change of plans was necessary.
I dropped my education concentration but kept my English major,
because I just couldn’t read enough. I think I was the only student in
the history of the UD Honors program who, after typically being assigned
seven, nine, or more novels per class, spent hours in the library
delighting in the works of Langston Hughes, Zora Neale Hurston, James
Baldwin, and Paul Monette. A major figure in the Honors Program, and my
theatre company’s longstanding faculty advisor, called me into his
office one day to ask me exactly what I intended to do with my life. I
had to admit to this quaint little man, who probably makes extra money
on the weekends impersonating Yoda at Star Wars conventions, that I
frankly had no idea. I was high on college life, coming out, and
reading.
In my junior year, UD introduced an Ethnic and Cultural Studies
concentration, and after the introductory course, I was hooked. We were
the intellectual elite of the college campus. A core group of us held
dinner parties at which we "inhaled" a little, gorged
ourselves on non-dining hall vegetarian delectables, and discussed life,
literature, and "The Man."
We studied in Europe one January, and earned credit for studying
crazy books such as Home Girls, ‘A’ is for Alibi, and Mondo Barbie.
My friend and I were the first to graduate from UD with an Ethnic and
Cultural Studies concentration, and we thought it quite a happy coup
when Maya Angelou beat out Michael Crichton to speak at our graduation
ceremony.
Through the haze of my hangover, I heard Ms. Angelou debut a poem
penned especially for the event, "I Am a Rainbow."
I know I’m no Urvashi Vaid or bell hooks, but I do fancy myself a
bit of a cultural critic, and I’m pretty upset with the current idle
state of our American culture. I love and cherish the promise of
America, but I can’t help but believe that we’ve become lazy and a
bit out of touch with the really important stuff of life. Many people
around the world view us in this way, and they have their reasons.
According to a recent edition of Newseek, our war on Iraq, a nation
who couldn’t have landed a bomb anywhere near our soil, cost us just
shy of $1,000,000,000, not counting the post-war efforts underway. Our
public school children are crowded into classes of thirty or more, many
of them studying in makeshift classrooms in trailers, but we have almost
one billion George Washingtons to throw into a questionable war halfway
across the world. I, for one, would like to know where that money came
from, and why we can’t spread a little more of it around in our own
backyard.
Our priorities are a bit out of whack, and despite what many
conservative politicians and religious zealots claim, it has nothing to
do with the advance of gay rights. According to ESPN, virtuoso
basketball player LeBron James, at the tender age of eighteen, more than
a month away from signing with an NBA team, just signed a seven-year
advertising deal with Nike for $90 million, including a $10 million
signing bonus. This paltry salary is just shy of the $100 million
record-breaking deal Tiger Woods signed with Nike in September 2000.
What’s the cultural message here? Turning to the Good Book, we’re
reminded that, "Where a man’s treasure is, there shall his heart
be also." Apparently, our hearts belong to running shoes and golf
clubs.
We’re placing the blame in all the wrong places, too. I wonder if
the Dixie Chicks will ever live down that notorious critique of
President Bush. It’s been weeks, and a massive round of booing erupted
from the audience at the recent Country Music Awards, when the Chicks
were announced as nominees for Entertainer of the Year. A few days ago,
Nicole Kidman made headlines when anti-smoking activists blasted her for
puffing in public at the Cannes Film Festival. It’s a sad day when a
musician can’t express an unpopular political opinion, and an actress
can’t light up a smoke, without being raked over the media coals. It’s
even sadder that "stars" have so much power in our culture
that these subjects make headlines.
Reality TV is out of control. You can get on a TV show to get
married, to make a million dollars for eating worms, or to see if your
romantic relationship can withstand the pressures of Temptation Island.
Recently, Newsweek polled reality TV executives for some of the ideas
that didn’t make it to the small screen, and shocking proposed pilots
included Human Autopsy, Who Wants to Donate Their Sperm?, Strip Search,
Convict Island, Pimp House, and my personal unfavorite, Will You Adopt
Me?, in which orphans and foster families would have met, and America
would have voted on which orphan went to which home. These shows all
reflect the spiritual poverty of our America, and I have a great idea
for a new TV reality show: Who Wants a Cultural Makeover?
Eric can be reached at e.a.morrison@verizon.net.
He’s even checking his e-mail on Tuesday nights, now that
"American Idol" is over.
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