I’ve never been a huge Celine Dion fan. I’ve always appreciated her amazing voice, have loved specific songs like “Because You Loved Me” and her new “Taking Chances” (it might be one of the prettiest songs I’ve ever heard). But all in all, I would get tired of her, couldn’t listen to just her, so I’d throw her songs into mixes with other artists to really enjoy her.
That has changed. I saw her in concert Wednesday at the Scottrade Center in St. Louis…wow. She was beyond amazing, and if you’ve never seen someone who truly performs, she would be the perfect one to see. Cher does that – performs and doesn’t just sing. But Celine, with her sincerity and fun personality, made the thousands of people in Scottrade feel like her friends. And that voice…my god, her range is nothing short of phenomenal, and I truly understand that she is the Barbra Streisand of our era.
Few concerts leave me feeling like I’ve fulfilled some missing component of my life (Paul McCartney, Tina Turner, Bob Seger, Melissa Etheridge, and Don Henley would be the other 5…). But even among those greats, I’d have to say Celine hovers near the top of the list. I seldom see a group or singer more than once, but if she’s back in Missouri again, she is a definite “must see” for me.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Super Sunday
I marvel at how much hype can go into a single sporting event, but then again, I’m guilty of feeding the fanaticism. I wanted Kurt to prove the naysayers wrong, but at least it was a great game…
In the midst of watching the pre-game festivities, I caught a glimpse of news tidbits that both disgusted and disillusioned me. My social conscience is easily ired, but the gamut of weekend events startled even me. A homeless man left on the street in D.C. to die while people waltzed to and fro to a grocery store…Michael Phelps caught inhaling. To think that one shopper loaded groceries while Jose Sanchez lay inches away, dying, should raise a never level of disgust in all of us. And yet, the AOL polls admit that most people would’ve done the same thing, most probably wouldn’t have even noticed poor Jose lying there. What have we been reduced to? Because he was homeless, we’re somehow justified in accepting the beating death of this man? I shudder to think what drove him to the streets in the first place, but in the realm of human existence, should it matter?
And then there’s our American hero, Michael Phelps, caught hitting a bong. The gasp from the crowd, the collective jaw dropping, the judgment passing without a conscious forethought. This man captivated the world in a way few ever have. But the media feels compelled to dethrone our heroes, to expose their flaws, and give them their imperfect fifteen minutes. Will it ever stop? Our fear-mongering, idol-crushing, negativity-thriving paparazzi on a quest for all things ratings-worthy?
I wonder. But as long as we hit those websites, watch slanderous news shows, and read the National Enquirer’s of the world, it won’t stop. And neither will they. It’s a vicious cycle and takes one of us at a time to break it. But as much as I want to claim I’m doing my part, here I am admonishing them, after having listened and read and believed.
All I know is that Michael Phelps is a young man who’s not gotten to be a kid for a long time. It takes great sacrifice to achieve greatness, and for many people, that puts a huge target on him to be perfect. If only all of us could be tagged the same…
In the midst of watching the pre-game festivities, I caught a glimpse of news tidbits that both disgusted and disillusioned me. My social conscience is easily ired, but the gamut of weekend events startled even me. A homeless man left on the street in D.C. to die while people waltzed to and fro to a grocery store…Michael Phelps caught inhaling. To think that one shopper loaded groceries while Jose Sanchez lay inches away, dying, should raise a never level of disgust in all of us. And yet, the AOL polls admit that most people would’ve done the same thing, most probably wouldn’t have even noticed poor Jose lying there. What have we been reduced to? Because he was homeless, we’re somehow justified in accepting the beating death of this man? I shudder to think what drove him to the streets in the first place, but in the realm of human existence, should it matter?
And then there’s our American hero, Michael Phelps, caught hitting a bong. The gasp from the crowd, the collective jaw dropping, the judgment passing without a conscious forethought. This man captivated the world in a way few ever have. But the media feels compelled to dethrone our heroes, to expose their flaws, and give them their imperfect fifteen minutes. Will it ever stop? Our fear-mongering, idol-crushing, negativity-thriving paparazzi on a quest for all things ratings-worthy?
I wonder. But as long as we hit those websites, watch slanderous news shows, and read the National Enquirer’s of the world, it won’t stop. And neither will they. It’s a vicious cycle and takes one of us at a time to break it. But as much as I want to claim I’m doing my part, here I am admonishing them, after having listened and read and believed.
All I know is that Michael Phelps is a young man who’s not gotten to be a kid for a long time. It takes great sacrifice to achieve greatness, and for many people, that puts a huge target on him to be perfect. If only all of us could be tagged the same…
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