I had a little time to kill this morning and could think of nothing better to do than to turn on channel 12 and take in a few minutes of “The View.” Call me crazy, but I do find this show to be entertaining, although it’s usually in a “you’re- driving-me-crazy” / “why-can’t-you-shut up-and-listen-to-each-other” / “you-are-the-most-obnoxious-women-on-television” sort of way. I enjoy “The View” in short little bursts but mostly this show drives me insane. . . partly because you can hardly make out a word that anyone’s saying, thanks to all that racket. . . partly because they never seem properly prepared for their interviews and are laughably dependent on their crutch-like note cards. . . and partly because for all of the diversity of opinion or perspective that those five ladies supposedly represent, I have yet to witness a moment when any of them seem to be learning anything from each other or coming to a new or different understanding about anything. And if that never happens, then what in the world is the point?
But all that is a digression from what I really want to complain about. Today one of their guests was the mom of a 6-year-old pageant veteran who recently announced her retirement from the business. Hearing the tease, I was hoping that this was going to be the case of someone who had come to recognize what this whole baby pageant business is about and stepped away from it in disgust. But no, the little girl in question is evidently just tired and taking a little break in order to pursue other interests. And when Barbara Walters asked her what interests she was talking about, it took her a few moments before she said “my career.” And when asked what she her career aspirations were, it took her a few more moments before she said “probably being a superstar.”
That’s when I felt like throwing a wrench at the TV screen.
If her answer had been “singing” or “dancing” or just about anything else, that would have been fine. But any 6-year-old whose primary career aspiration is Superstardom has not been well served by those who have raised her, IMO. Nobody should have that as their goal because stardom is something over which you essentially have no control. It’s the public who decides who the stars or superstars are among us. Not me and not you. And if stardom is what you’re after, what happens if and when it eludes you, as it almost certainly will? It has to be about things that really matter. You need to love singing and work to be the best singer you can be . . . or dancer or writer or baseball player or mathematician or whatever it is that feeds your flame. . . and if professional glory or even stardom ensues, great – but if not, at least you have done everything you could with the talent you’ve been given and tasted the joy and satisfaction that it honestly yields. By contrast, I truly pity anybody whose only goal – only interest – is stardom. What could be more shallow than that?
Am I over-reacting to the impulsive words of this 6-year-old? Perhaps. But it sounded a little too similar to what I sometimes hear from high school students auditioning for music scholarships at Carthage who tell us that their aspiration is to “sing on Broadway” or (once in a great while) “sing at the Met.” I can see that being someone’s Dream- but I think of an Aspiration as a worthwhile and perfectly achievable goal to which one aspires… and that aspiration should be about the work itself and not about the stardom. I am so much happier when one of those prospective students does not talk about Broadway or the Met and just talks about how much they love to sing and how they want to be the best singer they can possibly be. It brings to mind an interview I did with the two women who were in charge of casting for the first Harry Potter film- and many other films like Beautiful Mind, Apollo 13, etc. Their advice for aspiring young actors who get battered and worn down by the audition process, which serves up so much more disappointment than triumph, is to focus on the craft and set aside any hunger for fame. Fame cannot be the reason you show up again and again and again for auditions where you are head to head with dozens, hundreds or even thousands of competitors for the same role. You need to focus on the craft of acting and relish each and every chance you have to get up in front of someone and act. And every audition needs to be viewed as a valuable opportunity to be better than the time before, no matter what the ultimate outcome turns out to be. It cannot be about catching the Big Break – about seeing your name up in lights – about superstardom. It’s about the talent that God gave you and doing something meaningful with that talent.
I have all kinds of other reservations about the whole baby pageant thing. (Is that what you call the pageants depicted on a show like “Toddlers and Tiaras”? I’m not even sure.) Joy Behar pointed out one of the most serious- that pageants that hand out awards for “most beautiful” are just feeding what is already a widespread tendency for us to focus way too much on physical beauty. What in the world does it do to these youngsters when we pick and choose who is the most beautiful? What are we saying to those little girls “fortunate” enough to earn that distinction – and more importantly, what are we saying to the other girls standing on that stage who are judged to be not-quite-so-beautiful? It’s madness. And for me, one of the biggest turnoffs in this whole business is that these events exist in their own strange universe. When you watch a show like “Toddlers and Tiaras” it becomes very clear that the only audience that’s ever present consists of the parents, grandparents and handlers of the contestants. It’s not like you have anyone coming out to watch these events and be entertained by watching these girls cavort around the stage. No one pays money for a ticket to attend these events. So it’s something that essentially only matters to the participants, and the business would not even exist were it not for the obsessiveness of the parents willing to pay the entry fees. It is a business that feeds directly on the hopes and dreams (and money) of ordinary people. Then there is the whole matter of how these pageants seem so desperately bent on turning 6-year-old little girls into 19-year-old flirtatious women, in a way that strikes me as grotesque. And how about the mothers who are vicariously living out their own dreams of glory through their daughters, either trying to recapture something from their own youth – or maybe trying to capture for the first time something they never got to experience for themselves. . . a glorious moment in the spotlight.
I happen not to be against all pageants- and I want to be sure to say that since a recent Carthage graduate, Laura Kaeppler, has just been named Miss Wisconsin and has already done very commendable things with this opportunity given to her. I congratulate her and am thrilled for her. And if any of my three nieces were to be named Miss Iowa or Miss Wisconsin or Miss Upper Midwest Poultry Princess someday, great. I would lead the cheers. But I am so glad that my three beautiful and talented nieces – Aidan, Anna, and 6-year-old Lorelai – are way too busy with all that gives them genuine joy to be chasing superstardom or prancing around on pageant stages.
pictured above: the aforementioned 6-year-old girl performing a song from her new album – a “song” called Cutie Patootie (sp?) which isn’t even sung – just spoken in rhythm. Note the adoring mother in the background. I hope this little girl stays retired from the pageant world for a long time to come.