Plenty. First of all I grew up with loving parents who were wary of the fishbowl of fame.
Now, if you’ve been reading along for the past couple of years you know that Cary Grant is not my daddy, but I call the parts around here home. Neither my mother or father worked in front of the camera, although with my mom’s bent toward drama it might have been the perfect place for her. I get what a rush performance can bring. When you connect with an audience the feeling — that spark of communion — can last for days. Believe me it’s a buzz. But that’s exactly what it is, a high. It doesn’t transcend or translate, in anyway, to day to day life. And that’s where celebrity can get very hinky, damaging those who are famous, those who promote fame, and those who get caught up in the who-did-what-where-to-whom of the recognized. Because that spiritual-mental spark, that communion we were talking about just a second ago was based on a performance — a bit of make believe, and the celebrity who delivered the performance; they who are well known — aren’t really known at all.