A moment of weakness

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Written by production

Wednesday, 17 February 2010 18:47

In a moment of moral weakness I yearn to be rich and famous. A rich and famous writer, perhaps; a rich and famous actor or singer, maybe someday; or even a rich and famous entrepreneur. It's not what I would be rich and famous for, so much as it is simply the rich and famous part – and I could probably pass on the “famous” part, if pressed! It's the money that I would like to have, if at all possible. To quote a very rich and famous person himself, Tom Cruise: “Show me the money” (and then let me have some of it, too, please). Terrible thing to admit, I confess, but just a little more would be enough – right? Wrong, but that, once again, becomes fodder for another column or next week's sermon. You see, in that moment of mental sloppiness I fantasize about what I could buy, where I could travel, and all the other perks of being rich and famous, especially the rich part. After all, if people are rich, they have no needs, no troubles, and no challenges – right? Wrong again, but at least I'm consistent. Let's think briefly of actors. We get this constant stream of lies through certain magazines, late night talk shows (possibly the worst culprits) plus, of course, the movies and DVDs themselves. But a quick breath and a slow pause allows us to recognize that these rich and famous people are the epitome of falsehood. They are only pretending (= they are acting), saying things written by other people and playing roles that aren't them at all. A simple Google search will reveal just how desperate and woeful so many of these characters are in real life. Their struggles with relationships, drugs, pornography, drinking, anger – for starters – are beyond comprehension. And yet somehow, these icons of “success” (I need to put quotation marks there, suggesting ironic emphasis) remain the envy of many. Beyond the screen, I think of sports and politics. Not totally related, of course, but linked through the rich and famous tag. Oh, to be a rich general manager of a hockey team or a famous party leader of one of Canada's three main parties. Think of the limelight, the travelling, the prestige, and the expense accounts. Think also of the death of one's son, think of prostrate cancer. As I write this, I have been reminded that the rich and famous, no matter what world they appear to live in, must face many issues that we commoners face. Brian Burke, general manager of the Toronto Maple Leafs, was informed today that one of his sons was killed in a car accident. This is the same day that Jack Layton, national NDP party leader, announced that he has prostrate cancer. Death and deadly, a pair of frightening twins. Suddenly, these rich and famous people are, well, people like you and me. Rich and famous didn't stop Mr. Burke's son from losing his life, nor did it prevent an unwanted growth in Mr. Layton's system. Personally, I am not a fan of Burke, though I was when he was the GM of the Canucks. As for Layton, you regular readers know that my political persuasion lies somewhere to the right of centre, just east of redneck. I have always admired Layton's articulation (like a former colleague of his, Nelson Riis), just not his views. But sports and politics aside, it has come home to me once more that, when all is said and done, whether your name is Burke or Layton, Cruise or Grisham, we all have this common link of frail humanity. Some of the frail have struck it rich and famous, others have not. Either way, we are mere humans, with mere human limitations. So I remind you to consider these rich and famous people as ordinary common people who face some of the same struggles that you and I do. If you have the incredible opportunity to pray for them, do it; if you are not a praying person, perhaps you can talk to yourself about them, and all other Brian Burkes and Jack Laytons of this world. And you don't have to be rich and famous to do that.