LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth |
Weekend Beach Bum: American Idle |
by Eric Morrison |
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. |
LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth, Vol. 13, No. 6, May 30, 2003 |