Julieanne Leupold

The camera bulbs flashing. The million-dollar jewelry. The last-minute plastic surgery. The designer gowns. The red carpet.

The Oscar.

It is the almighty holy grail of the entertainment industry, each actor selecting roles and scripts that might put him or her in contention for that Academy Award. Some nominees wear millions on a single night, and all receive thousands of dollars worth of gifts and giveaways.

I got caught up in the Oscar buzz, watching E!’s road to the red carpet and entering the who’s-going-to-win pool. I planned my evening around the televised event.

I even agreed out loud with Joan Rivers and some of her fashion critiques.

And I gazed in awe and envy at the designer gowns that can only be found in those stores that require appointments to try them on. Then I laughed at myself.

There were so many more beneficial things I could have been accomplishing on Sunday evening, but instead I spent it celebrating the rise of regal Hollywood.

I’m glad that the Hollywood Hills are slowly moving back to the days of old grandeur and away from the streets of prostitution. The Walk of Fame is no longer the avenue of the walk of shame after a night out in Sunset clubs.

The once famous concrete stars can even be seen again without the camouflage of scaffolding and construction dust.

Even I as appreciated the resurrection of Hollywood, I couldn’t help thinking how silly we all were for wasting so much energy celebrating a superficial cause. Don’t get me wrong, the profession of acting is not superficial. Acting is hard.

The majority of people who have made it to this level of excellence have great talent and have worked hard developing it.

But they didn’t work any harder than the teacher who stayed up all night trying to come up with a lesson for her autistic student or that single mom who escaped an abusive relationship and pulled herself up from nothing.

Why don’t we celebrate them? Why don’t we know their names? Their faces?

I appreciate actors for bringing me two hours of joy or laughter or sadness. I thank them for giving me an escape from this difficult world, especially in the face of everything that’s happened.

But I celebrate the teacher and the mom for giving me hope to survive in this difficult world.

I realize that we can’t know every good deed that every random person does in a single day. And I know trying to reward that would be an impossible feat.

But as we get caught up in the who beat whom for best actor in a musical or comedy, maybe we can just remember that real life isn’t on that red carpet.    v And instead of trying to emulate the stars’ smiles or hairstyles, maybe we can only try to be a little more like that teacher or that mom who struggle to make a difference behind the spotlight. People who, by bringing hope to one person in their lives, make more of an impact than any Academy Award-winning movie.

March 28, 2002