Thoughts and Musings on Faith, Music, Family, Life

What didn't make Ted's YouTube clip

I remember when I first heard about Ted Williams, the homeless man with the golden voice. Everyone was abuzz about it.  I wasn't.  It was strange, I know, but I actually found myself feeling rather disconcerted about the whole affair from the start.

I felt it immediately during the opening intro to the Today Show - Meredith Viera emphasizing in her briefly-worded introduction that this gentleman had become "an overnight YouTube sensation."  I found it odd because, before we knew what it was that had made this guy so famous, we knew he was famous.  And something about that just seemed kind of troubling to me.

Then came the news: he was a homeless man who had an amazing voice.  And it made me wonder: what exactly was it about this that captured our fascination?  Was it because this man has a gift that had gone unused or wasted all these years?  Or was it that, in a society which places such a heavy emphasis on appearances, it absolutely blew our minds that a voice like that would come out of the mouth of a man who looked like that?  Why should this surprise and amaze us so much?  I remember having the same sensation when I saw Susan Boyle do her thing on a British television stage.  "The voice of an angel!" someone shockingly exclaimed.  But do our angels have to look a certain way, or can they in fact be "frumpy?"   Is it the talent that's the story, or what the talent looks like? 

But the thing about Ted's story that had me most unnerved was when everyone talked about all the job interviews he was getting, all the late night talk shows he would circuit through, and what a great story this was.  Except Ted's story didn't begin the day we heard about him.  It had a long and painful history.   There was a reason, of course, that Ted was out on the streets to begin with.  We didn't hear about it at first, or maybe we just weren't listening.  But eventually we all learned of the drug and alcohol addiction and the family who had been ostracized after being put through hell and back.  All of which came to a head mere days after his newfound celebrity when Ted checked in an L.A. rehab center after an emotional and physical confrontation with his family, including his grown daughter, who he had walked out on when she was a child.

Interesting, isn't it, that during the first few days of the YouTube craziness those details were relatively unimportant to the masses, who were still enthralled with the story of a homeless man with the golden voice who was getting a second chance at life and putting his gift to use again.  We were less inclined to see the bigger picture of Ted Williams because the smaller one was far more attractive and enticing.

And all of this happened in the span of seven or eight days.

The truth of the matter is that Ted's story tells us far more about ourselves than it does Ted.  We as a society drink deep from the well of cultural fame. We pounce on the next big thing; we watch YouTube clips and post them on Twitter and Facebook, only to drop it like a lead balloon when something else captures our collective fancy.  We have this luxury because we're consumers of an immediate product from a distance and don't have to bother with the details of another person's life.

And not only that, but we like our stories nice and neat.  We dig tales of human redemption without all the messiness that often comes with it. The problem, of course, is that humanity is messy.  Redemption is rarely a painless endeavor.  So instead of the movie where the guy gets the girl and all is right with the world as the credits roll, we have to recognize and honor the fact that people's lives extend far beyond the fifteen minutes of fame we both grant them and then eagerly consume.

By nature we are social beings. We are designed to be in communion with others.  And it's not just people close to us that we seek relationship, but in today's world it's those behind computer screennames, images on a television or movie screen, and someone in a YouTube clip.  And one of the things that so often slips our minds is the fact that these individuals are much deeper than we could ever recognize; that we are only granted the opportunity to skim a a few pages of the massive novel that is their life.  We are fearfully and wonderfully made, the scriptures tell us.  We are not simple. There's always more to a person than we can ever know.

I wish all the best for Ted and hope his most recent stint in rehab sticks.  Just as much, though, I hope we as a society can grow to realize that there are more important things than fame, that even angels can have wild hair and stand on a street corner holding a cardboard sign, and that the mystery of being human is something we should strive to acknowledge and honor - not just in ourselves, but in everyone else.  If we can do that, even a little bit, then Ted's story will have real meaning other than giving us something to post to our Facebook page.

Jon Stewart on the Arizona shootings

The little skit with John Oliver in his panda Pjs is cute, but hands-down the most meaningful part is when Jon Stewart looks straight into the camera and does what he does best - speak from the heart.

I think my favorite line among many is: It would be really nice if the ramblings of crazy people didn’t in any way resemble how we actually talk to each other on TV.  How true.

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart	Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c
Arizona Shootings Reaction
www.thedailyshow.com

(CLICK HERE IF YOU CAN'T SEE THE VIDEO CLIP)

An open letter to Andrew Luck

Dear Andrew, or Mr. Luck, or Quarterback Czar or whatever name you want us to call you:

As residents of the Old North and Palmetto States who only in recent years have been introduced to the wonder of professional football and overpriced PSLs,  we implore you to reconsider your decision and declare for the NFL draft - and, by virtue of our sucky season, become the starting quarterback for one of the most inept offenses of all time.

We know - tempting, isn't it?  Either hang out in sunny CA for another year being the figurative and literal "big man" on campus, or find yourself in the Southeast getting squashed by opposing defenses on a weekly basis. We can't say that we'd make the same decision if we were in your shoes, but that's not important.  What's important is that you understand that you are the quarterback of our future, even if you don't yet know it.

And the thing is, we didn't really know that's who you were, until very recently - until the last few seconds of this year's Orange Bowl ticked off the clock.  We're kind of embarrased to say it, but we hadn't heard much about you before then.  There weren't many Stanford games on TV here during the fall, and by the time the details of your football prowess hit the Saturday newswire, we were hours removed from the afternoon football stadium and focusing on our true love - college basketball.

But man, what a clinic you put on against Virginia Tech!  We were impressed.  And with every one of your 287 passing yards and four touchdowns, we couldn't help but ask ourselves, "What if - what if you were to become a Panther and lead our team, our city and state to football glory?"  We watched you on TV and imagined you wearing not red and white but blue, silver, and black (you can keep #12, by the way. Heck, you can put as many numbers on your jersey if you want).

See, you've got to understand what we've been through in recent years in the quarterback department.  We had Jake Delhomme, who was a generous guy but failed to realize that this didn't need to involve opposing team's cornerbacks.  We had Matt Moore, who showed signs of promise near the end of last season until he seemingly hit his head over the summer and forgot how to play his position; and then actually hit his head this season and had to stop playing because of the concussion.  And we had Jimmy Clausen, who we got so excited about when he "fell" to us unexpectedly in the second round of last year's draft.  Looking back, that should've told us something.

And trust us, we have no idea why not one, but two high-ranking officials in the Panthers organization boldly proclaimed mere days after your glorious game that the team would take you with the first pick if you came out.  Forget the fact that teams rarely show their hand until the commish walks up to the podium in April and reads the name on the card.  And even if they do announce their intentions prior to the draft, it's always done after the declaration deadline, not before.  Unless, apparently, you work for the Panthers. Then common sense and general decorum appear to be relegated to the sidelines.

So yes, we understand what must have gone through your mind when you heard that our team was stalking you. But please, reconsider.  We're not that bad. You have a kid? They'll love Sir Purr.  And if you have any reservations about living in Charlotte, don't.  We've got a lot to offer.  We've got......well, we're the banking captial of the south, did you know that?  Two major American banks have their headquarters right in the downtown of our lovely city.  Now that's sexy!  We've also got NASCAR, so if you happen to like watching into grown men driving their cars around a big oval at speeds much faster than any automobile should go, you'll be set.  And did you know that Charlotte is the Queen City?  Royalty!

We read where you said it's important for you to stay in school to complete your degree in architectural design, and we know Stanford is no pushover.  And the fact that you'd choose this over financial security for life and a draft stock that simply can't go any higher makes us covet you even more.  In a world where way too many young people pursue what is fast and fleeting, you dare to stand for what is honorable and noble.  And we dig that.

But please, forget your education. Jump at the big bucks. Do this even though (if the current coaching search goes as expected) you'll be playing for a former defensive coordinator/first-time head coach, an owner who makes Cowboys' Jerry Jones look like a football genius, and a team whose greatest claim to fame this past season was measured in the number of field goals kicked per game. 

You think trying to make the grade at Stanford is a challenge?  Try turning the Panthers into a winner.  So give it some more thought, will ya?  Actually, on second thought, don't think about it too much. Just do it.  You'll be glad if you do.  Well, we will.