Gordon Mensley, Contributing Editor
I believe there is a trend that continues to grow in our media where the following rule applies: if you want to be a winner in America today, you first have to lose.
America has always loved the underdog, to be sure. It is something basic and unique to our character that we absolutely love to celebrate the man or woman who beats the odds, comes from behind, and demonstrates extraordinary will, courage or character to succeed. And why not? You can’t help but hope to see yourself in these people with indomitable spirit who defy terrible tragedy, spit in its eye, and find themselves sitting on the top of the world.
The media, in particular, can’t resist these human interest stories. It is just about impossible to read through a newspaper or watch a TV news program or Reality Show (what’s the difference?) these days and not be treated to one of these awe-inspiring tales of triumph over adversity. Here’s one about a reformed heroin addict who lost ten years of his life to prison, only to rise from the ashes to become a world-renowned chef. Here’s another about the kid who lost his arm to an alligator and who has miraculously become a world champion billiards player. And here’s another about a woman diagnosed with incurable cancer who had 6 months to live, laughed at the doctor, and just finished winning a national triathlon contest five years post-diagnosis.
I just can’t stand these people. Not because they’re not heroes, but because they have a way of making the rest of us look like real losers. If they are winners, is a loser someone who never lost in the first place?
That’s what the media in America is conditioning us to believe. I know this from personal experience. I won an award recently. Believe me, it wasn’t for something heroic. I met with a reporter from a local radio station and it was obvious he was looking for any color he could add to the story about my background to draw some listener attention. The interview went something like this:
Reporter: “Great, now that I have what I need about how you won the award, tell me something about yourself.”
Me: “Well, I was raised in a happy household with a loving mom and dad and three brothers and sisters. I was an athlete in high school, got good grades, went on to a terrific University, landed my first job at twenty-one, worked real hard, made money, and here I am today.”
Reporter: “That’s it?”
Me: “Yep, that’s about it.”
Reporter: “You’re kidding me. Nothing more interesting than that?”
Me: “You sound disappointed. Did I say something wrong? Did I leave something out?”
Reporter: “Leave something out? Mister, I got nothing to go on. My editors are going to kill this story if you can’t come up with something better than that.”
Me: “Something better?”
Reporter: “Yeah. Don’t you have something the least bit interesting in your background before you won this award that our audience can sink their teeth into? How about drugs? Ever been addicted?”
Me: “No. I wrote a paper on drug addiction in college. Does that count?”
Reporter: “Not quite. How about abuse? Did your mother or father beat you routinely, kick you out of the house, leaving you to wander from one foster home after another in search of the love you never had?”
Me: “No, like I said, they were great parents.”
Reporter: “Too bad. That would have been a great angle. Have you lost your wife or kids in a terrible car accident and reached the point where grief and misery led you to become a useless alcoholic who reformed after five years or more?”
Me: “For God’s sake, no.”
Reporter: “C’mon. You have to be able to think of something terrible, some tragedy you’ve overcome. Otherwise, this story is dead.”
I could feel this story on my award slipping away with each question and I started to kick myself for telling all my friends at work it was going to be aired. My mind raced to think of something, anything tragic about my background, but I could tell the reporter was running out of time and patience.
Me: “Well, there is something I can faintly remember.”
Stalling for time.
Reporter: “Great. What is it?”
Me: “Well, there was this neighbor we had when I was growing up. I used to mow her lawn for $5.00 per week.”
Reporter: “I’m afraid I have to go.”
Me: “Wait. Wait. It gets better. One day she refused to pay me what she owed, so I-, I-”
Reaching. Reaching.
Reporter: “You what? What?”
Me: “I, uh, I pulled out a knife and I stabbed her chest like a bloody rag doll. Over and over. It happened in an instant.”
Reporter: “Holy, crap. Why didn’t you say this before? Perfect. Was this killing never discovered and you were wracked with guilt all these years?”
Me: “Guilt? Yes, that’s it. Guilt. I have so much of it. But it wasn’t just the stabbing. It was my years on the run and everything in between that nearly took my life.”
Was I going to far?
Reporter: “That’s it. Let it out. Let it all out.”
Maybe not.
Me: “There was the endless nights of crack cocaine. The ocean of booze. And don’t leave out the part about demeaning the never ending string of prostitutes during my years as a pimp.”
Reporter: “I thought you said you never had a problem with drugs or alcohol?”
Me: “And you believed me? I was diagnosed at age 12 as a pathological liar.”
Reporter: “Now we’re talking. Now we’re talking.”
I had reached the point of no return.
Me: “Do you want to hear about my bout with pyromania and the church burnings in the South I am so sorrowful for?”
Reporter: “That was you? Mister, I think we’re both going to be up for awards.”
Me: “So how’s my story. Am I the winner you were looking for?”
Reporter: “Definitely. You are a total loser.”
Copyright 2008 – The Saturday Morning Post – All Rights Reserved
If there was an award for that, she would get it.
“When the Twin Towers came down and hundreds of soot-covered New Yorkers poured into their lobby, Julie sprang into action and opened up Vine, the restaurant she owned on the same block, to feed those seeking shelter. But along with dozens of restaurants, bars and clothing boutiques in the area, she had to close Vine soon after, as business in the area dried up and residents vacated lower Manhattan. But that only strengthened Julie’s resolve to rebuild the neighborhood.” NY Post
With all the troubles on Wall Street, it looks like time to rebuild again. The buildings are still there, so anything is possible. My plot is publishing since finance is in evac mode. We need new business books and somebody has to write business. I need a publisher to bind the deals with. It’s a long story.
it’s on the Vine that Writing Frontier is looking for editorial space on that same block. Once again, ahead of our time.
SMP
Good Morning America
You ladies are IT, you put the whole firm in debt. Better days are ahead, for there are always assets to collect. We’ll survive and transfigure the hard facts, raising the bar higher. Great minds think alike and yield higher returns. Wealth is always rebuilding and produces more wealth. Publish or perish and the plot thickens. This could get expensive Writing Frontier. Things just keep getting more dear. The next thing you know it’s Christmas. The crisis will need to stop, for there are gifts to be exchanged. I am wrapping books here, for words can bring healing.
At this point, it would be appropriate for Writing Frontier to suggest that higher yields and more wealth production be sent our way.
SMP
You could make Free Beer at Writing Frontier. It rhymes.
This will get you started. http://freebeer.org/blog/recipe/
Until then you can print labels. http://freebeer.org/blog/label/
“Beer is living proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.” All so true and anything that makes us happy, should provide plenty of wealth and higher yields. You can keep busy writing while the beer is brewing. It takes time. Please keep us informed and if you get the brew brewing, send some our way. Economists are predicting a long rough ride, so demand for beer should keep rising. Big breweries could end up like big auto. Out of luck and then we’re out of beer. It could be a national emergency or even a global emergency. Instead of no gas today signs, imagine no beer today signs. Unthinkable no, possible yes. With Free Beer, the trucking costs are eliminated and we get more beer and burn less fuel. Don’t drink and drive, drink and write.
We did a piece on home made brews when we were Frontier News.
SMP