I got an invitation to attend an honest to goodness Hollywood premier.

It was a once in a lifetime experience that I would have passed on as the trek from Hawaii to Los Angles to go to a movie is a bit much and frankly, I am not that impressed by celebrities to get all that fired up about it.

But since I have a daughter who is a freshman majoring in film and had some extra miles, I thought I would suit up and mingle with the elite so that she would be encouraged to purse her craft.

Maybe suit up is not the right word.

I don’t own a suit or a tie. I did have some new black jeans and a nice Aloha shirt, which I thought would be appropriate attire since it was the premier of a surf movie,  Soul Surfer, which was based on the book that I helped write for my long time friends, the Hamilton family. (And no, I am not getting anything for this effort other than bragging rights.)

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I mentioned in a previous blog about the pursuit of fame and fortune that drove me in my younger days.  In what I now refer to as “my rock and roll dream,” the long-term plan was to work as an engineer by day and a musician by night, writing and recording my material while getting exposure and experience in the local club scene.  It would only be a matter of time until I would record the killer demo, move down to LA, recruit some monster musicians, and launch my career.  From there, it would simply be a short limo trip to fame and fortune.

Of course, that didn’t happen, for a lot of reasons—talent, marketability, maturity, circumstance, and the Small Still Voice that invited me into a better way of life.

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When I lived in Malibu, there was an unspoken “thou shalt not talk with the famous” rule. It wasn’t hard to resist the temptation to strike up conversations with John Stamos or Tony Danza (so…uh…are you still the boss?), and talking to Britney while she jets away with her kids and 50 paparazzi is impossible. However, most of us did have one person that regardless of whomever we were with or whatever we were doing, we would have gone out of our way to talk with them. I started thinking about this “rule” while reading up a bit more on Marjoe Gortner.

Marjoe Gortner is a dropout evangelical. You know that kid in Bible class who knew all the answers, but when he was an adult was a deeply committed nothingist? Marjoe may sort of be that person. Raised a charismatic Pentacostal, a preacher by the age of 4 (and abused along the way), Marjoe epically threw off the shackles of Christian business-ism in Samson like fashion.

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Every morning of this past week there has been something new to write about.  It’s ridiculous.  Just when I think the world is going to calm down there’s another death, another engagement or another plane or train crash.  The sensationalism we’re all living with was enough to keep me up last night pondering all of this.  Just a few hours before I went to sleep I was chewing another pillow watching the Bachelorette.  My husband was on his computer next to me barely watching until I whacked him with the pillow and said, “Can you believe this!?  Why do I watch this show?  I’m so mad right now!”  I fumed around the house before scrubbing my teeth much harder than usual.  Now that I’ve slept and woke up with bright whites, I’m not sure I’m any less confused, but I’m rested.  I’m in a state of numbness due to “the most dramatic____________” fill it in with whatever you want: death, accident, rose ceremony yet.  There’s no end.  My cup overfloweth… somehow I don’t think that is what that phrase is supposed to mean.  And why is the cup just flowing and flowing?  

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The recent firestorm over the just-released torture memos has elicited opinions from anyone and everyone. Is it torture? Is it not torture? Is torture every justified, and if so when? The questions that have germinated from the memos are not new ones. They are questions that look at the heart of what we value as a culture and as values change so does our interpretation of the actions of others.

Along with this debate of what actions are justified in war, there's a lesser struggle that is undergirding the discussion. In times past, people would point to the military as instruments on justice, truth, and courage. As questions have arisen over tactics used, one might wonder who our new heroes should be. Again, the culture is quick with an answer. An answer, I'm afraid, that is often found wanting.

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