A thought, if you’ll indulge me for a moment.
Next year at the Academy Awards, all the hosts (who will be Sandra Bullock and Kirk Douglas if I have anything to say about it, which I don’t, but still, I should because, hello?), the presenters, the nominees, the winners, and the guests will be wearing sweatpants, t shirts – regular ones, not $200 Neiman Marcus t shirts – and no make up. No jewels. No done up hair.
When a winner is announced, that person will ascend to the stage, and without further ado begin to name one person – an unknown in the world of Hollywood – but someone inspirational, someone who has done something of significant value to the community, the country,or the world over the past year. Someone for whom the luxury of creating entertainment for a living and drawing a huge salary for such a career would be unimaginable simply because that person was too damn busy getting on with making a living and getting it all DONE: health care, education, public safety, who knows, whatever.
Those people would be dressed by stylists in clothes offered up by designers, they would be bedecked in jewels donated for the occasion by jewelers, and made up by Hollywood’s finest makeup artists before the event.
That person, that self-sacrificing real-life hero, would rise and be escorted to the stage for everyone to see and admire, and have the opportunity to offer a few words of thanks for the recognition and for the people who helped to get him/her to this place in life, and maybe even some words of encouragement or personal philosophy before being whisked off stage for the inevitable press conferences and over the top lavish parties, while the stars head home to wash up the dinner dishes, set out clothes for the next day’s work, and turn in for the night.
