The cult of celebrity

Monday’s column about Tiger Woods and celebrity confessions was supposed to be a one-shot rant. Then I exchanged a few e-mails with readers on the subject and got an idea.

More about that in a minute.

It would seem that the only people Tiger truly wronged were his family, his agent and the advertisers who had carefully groomed his public persona. Thus, I have to wonder if his televised-to-the-universe meal of warmed-over crow last Friday was really just about mending the rips in his lucrative image.

Meanwhile, if it ruined your day that Tiger cheated on his wife, you may also have a problem. I am in awe of the man’s otherwordly golf skills, but that doesn’t mean I care what he eats or drinks or drives, who he sleeps with or what his political views might be.

Rather, I tend to agree with former NBA star Charles Barkley, who once declared: “I’m a basketball player. I don’t want to be your role model.”

Amen, Charles. Why do we latch on to people we don’t know and turn them into figures of veneration just because they’re good at acting or striking a golf ball or playing lead guitar? Almost invariably, these manufactured heroes turn out to be flawed human beings. That revelation disappoints us, we get ugly and the supermarket tabloids make more money.

Sure, celebrities lead more interesting lives than most of us. We could lead interesting lives, too, if our annual salaries were in six figures.

Instead, why don’t we look for real role models in our own communities, not “A List” celebrities who hire bodyguards and keep a publicist on speed dial?

My idea is this: I’d like to hear about your own role models. I’ll pick 15 of them (an arbitrary number, to be sure, but it feels right) and list them in a later article, sometime in March.

These role models must be currently alive in Central Virginia and not blood relatives. What I want is not a lot of unfocused, sugary praise of these candidates (“He’s a good Christian man,” “She’s always doing favors for people”) but very specific information about why they are individuals worth emulating.

I’ve had mixed success with these “audience participation” brainstorms over the years. A contest to choose Central Virginia’s meanest dog went over well, except for my nearly getting bitten twice in the process. On the other hand, a similar effort to find out if there was a vehicle in our circulation area uglier than my old Buick flopped.

Why do so many kids want to be sports, music or Hollywood stars? Because it’s been made quite clear to them, through the mass media, that these are the people who matter. As Pink Floyd asked in their song “Wish You Were Here” some 30 years ago: “Did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts?”

I’d like to hear about some role models who are flesh and blood, not ghostly images dancing across a 42-inch TV screen. I think we’d all be the better for meeting them.