My Dear Reader,
Never in my life has Family Home Evening (FHE) been such an issue as when I've been at college. While it's true that the LDS Church strongly encourages each family to dedicate every Monday night to being together, it gets kind of strange when you're a thousand miles away from your family, because the rule still applies. And when you're obligated to dedicate every Monday night to a family that's not present, the leaders of the Church do something that must look very strange to the outside world: they create a fake family made out of family-less people just for the sake of preserving FHE. And when we get to the point where a person is assigned to play the role of the father and another to be the mother, each only for a couple of hours on one day of the week, it becomes obvious that we are indeed a peculiar people.
For five years now, I've been put in these faux families, and for five years I've been wondering why we bother. I mean, really. It's not like it creates real families, unless you count the people who find their future spouses in these groups. But after a couple of years of meditation on the subject, I've come to realize that for the first time in my life, I really understand how important FHE really is to the Church, and perhaps I've gained a little insight into why we do it in the first place. Something that I continually notice about us Mormons is that we tend to have a group mentality, that we worry about other Mormons, whether we know them personally or not. This kind of group consciousness expresses itself in various ways, inspiring people to do such things as introduce themselves to a newcomer at church and evaluate how well famous Mormons represent us to the world. I think that a lot of this comes from the way that the Church is organized, from something as small as an FHE group to something bigger, such as a congregation. It works out that each person in the LDS Church belongs to several groups, based on where they live (wards and stakes), what gender they are (Elder's Quorum/Relief Society, etc.), and how old they are (Sunday school/Primary). In addition to that, each person is given a specific function within these groups, and is put into another group based on what his or her job happens to be.
While I'm sure that the way I've described it makes the entire system seem artificial, since the way people are organized tends to be based on somewhat biological qualities rather than accomplishments or worthiness, the effect is quite the opposite. Because of the way that we are all is organized, it becomes is clear to each person that he or she belongs somewhere, is needed, and has value, and this all end up occurring regardless of how close to God he or she happens to be at the time. In my twenty-two years of experience with Mormonism, I've come to see how often something that initially seems strange turns out to be a clever and effective way of letting each individual know that they have value. In fact, I'd venture to say that when these structures are taken seriously and used to the greatest advantage of those within them, a person has the opportunity to truly feel that they belong right where he or she is, and gets the chance to be loved by those around them. In the best of examples, this leads to a kind of unity that is unattainable by any other organization ever devised, and this unity begins to approach the kind of unity that I imagine exists where God is. And then, through this seemingly artificial and strange organization, a person starts to see what it's like to be loved by God. And while I know for a fact that there are many other ways to feel God's love, no matter what church a human being attends, I have also observed on a regular basis how the very careful way in which my church happens to be structured declares the love of God and the worth of souls to those who aren't inclined to hear the message any other way. And when I take all of the above into account, something as simple as FHE starts to look pretty important.
Last week, I was assigned to become one of these faux mothers. It's the third time in five years that I've served that function, but I think that in five years, this might be the first time that I've really understood how important my job could be. While I know that I can only do so much, I think that I've actually started to take FHE seriously, and that might turn out to be the first step in a completely unexpected journey, because now I have a mission, and now I know that I share this mission with everyone who loves God.
Regards, best wishes, and love,
-Cecily Jane
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Prescription Drug Commercials: Educational or Unethical?
My Dear Reader,
My Madre is a big believer in staying informed and educated after formal education has ended, and it's not hard to catch her reading things like Scientific America or watching programs on C-Span. One of her favorite programs happens to be on C-Span 2, called U.S. Senate, which is essentially a recording of the proceedings in the Senate and House of Representatives, and, as you can imagine, is just about the most boring thing imaginable. Last week, I woke up to find that Madre had turned this program on and fallen asleep on the couch opposite me. Since it was two days after my surgery and it was painful to move, and since the remote was well out of my reach, I was essentially stuck there until someone came by to rescue me. I was not pleased.
I'm sure that it's not hard to understand the complete agony that I was in. But as I was debating as to whether the pain of watching congressional hearings was more excruciating than the pain in my newly-bolted shoulder, I realized that it was a hearing about one of those congressional subjects that I'm actually interested in: the ethics of commercials for prescription medications. It's one of those subjects that gets more interesting the more you learn about it. For example, did you know that the drug companies get six dollars of revenue for every dollar they spend on advertising? Of course, prescription drugs are generally considered to be good things, but there's a reason that you have to go through a doctor to get them: they're a little more dangerous than other things you might see advertised on the television. And when they're put in the same sphere as things that you can just get whenever you want, like McDonald's, it's easy to get confused. And sometimes, the commercials themselves don't exactly help.
For example, part of the testimony given at the hearing was a study that showed that these commercials tend to present the benefits of their drugs in a prominent, easy-to-remember fashion, while presenting the side-effects in a way that made them easily forgettable. In one instance, a commercial had a flying bee that hovered unassumingly while the narrator spoke of the benefits, and flapped its wings when the side-effects were being described, essentially distracting the viewer. At the same time, many commercials try to "sell" their drug as something other than it is, touting benefits that aren't what the FDA approved them for. It's these kinds of problems that raise some concerns with these commercials.
One of these concerns was that people will sometimes trust these often misleading commercials more than their doctors. Most of the time, when a person goes to the doctor to ask about the drug he or she saw on T.V., the doctor will prescribe instead a lifestyle change (such as a diet, etc.) or an over-the-counter medication. When this happens, however, some patients will get upset that the doctor will not prescribe them the medication that they saw on T.V. and switch to another doctor. This kind of reminds me of when I was five and convinced that I had to have a Happy Meal in order to be considered a human being. When Madre and Padre refused my many requests, I remember wishing that I could switch parents, but it wasn't as easy as switching doctors. In both cases, however, there was one party that had the responsibility of making decisions based on superior knowledge and experience, and in both, this party is also obligated to act in the absolute best interest of the less-informed party. And when patients think that they know better than their doctors, there's trouble a-brewing.
Another concern is that while the FDA has the responsibility to approve the drugs themselves, it does not have the authority to pre-approve these commercials to ensure clarity and accuracy. When the FDA comes across a commercial that they find inappropriate, they are able to demand that the commercial be taken off of the air, but this process could take from six months to a year. By that time, most of the damage has already been done.
A third and more brief concern is that the money spent on advertising drugs make these drugs more expensive, and most people aren't aware that many medications have a generic alternative that is chemically identical to its brand-named competitor. Since drugs are already expensive enough, this can be a problem. Of course, the easiest way to solve it is to always ask the doctor to prescribe a generic if available.
On the other hand, though, there are definitely benefits to having the commercials on the air. One of the benefits is that it informs people of possible treatments, some of which are new. So if a patient came down with Malady X five years ago, and after consulting a doctor about possible treatments for said malady discovered that none were available, it would be a good thing if he or she saw Commercial Q five years later, which would allow him or her to learn that Cure J was now available. How wonderful for him or her.
Anyway, I think that by now my opinion on the subject has been made clear, due to my not-so-balanced treatment: I think that these commercials, while informative, often mislead the viewer in a most unethical matter. That's why I think that each commercial for a prescription drug should be approved by the FDA. I also think that people should realize that a prescription drug is not a Happy Meal. In all cases, I'm glad that Madre has the wisdom to keep herself and her children informed.
Regards, best wishes, and not Malady X,
-Cecily Jane
P.S. By the way, I would like to announce that for their awkward treatment of embarassing subjects, Drug Ads have won the Plain Vanilla Thanks-for-Sharing Award:
My Madre is a big believer in staying informed and educated after formal education has ended, and it's not hard to catch her reading things like Scientific America or watching programs on C-Span. One of her favorite programs happens to be on C-Span 2, called U.S. Senate, which is essentially a recording of the proceedings in the Senate and House of Representatives, and, as you can imagine, is just about the most boring thing imaginable. Last week, I woke up to find that Madre had turned this program on and fallen asleep on the couch opposite me. Since it was two days after my surgery and it was painful to move, and since the remote was well out of my reach, I was essentially stuck there until someone came by to rescue me. I was not pleased.
I'm sure that it's not hard to understand the complete agony that I was in. But as I was debating as to whether the pain of watching congressional hearings was more excruciating than the pain in my newly-bolted shoulder, I realized that it was a hearing about one of those congressional subjects that I'm actually interested in: the ethics of commercials for prescription medications. It's one of those subjects that gets more interesting the more you learn about it. For example, did you know that the drug companies get six dollars of revenue for every dollar they spend on advertising? Of course, prescription drugs are generally considered to be good things, but there's a reason that you have to go through a doctor to get them: they're a little more dangerous than other things you might see advertised on the television. And when they're put in the same sphere as things that you can just get whenever you want, like McDonald's, it's easy to get confused. And sometimes, the commercials themselves don't exactly help.
For example, part of the testimony given at the hearing was a study that showed that these commercials tend to present the benefits of their drugs in a prominent, easy-to-remember fashion, while presenting the side-effects in a way that made them easily forgettable. In one instance, a commercial had a flying bee that hovered unassumingly while the narrator spoke of the benefits, and flapped its wings when the side-effects were being described, essentially distracting the viewer. At the same time, many commercials try to "sell" their drug as something other than it is, touting benefits that aren't what the FDA approved them for. It's these kinds of problems that raise some concerns with these commercials.
One of these concerns was that people will sometimes trust these often misleading commercials more than their doctors. Most of the time, when a person goes to the doctor to ask about the drug he or she saw on T.V., the doctor will prescribe instead a lifestyle change (such as a diet, etc.) or an over-the-counter medication. When this happens, however, some patients will get upset that the doctor will not prescribe them the medication that they saw on T.V. and switch to another doctor. This kind of reminds me of when I was five and convinced that I had to have a Happy Meal in order to be considered a human being. When Madre and Padre refused my many requests, I remember wishing that I could switch parents, but it wasn't as easy as switching doctors. In both cases, however, there was one party that had the responsibility of making decisions based on superior knowledge and experience, and in both, this party is also obligated to act in the absolute best interest of the less-informed party. And when patients think that they know better than their doctors, there's trouble a-brewing.
Another concern is that while the FDA has the responsibility to approve the drugs themselves, it does not have the authority to pre-approve these commercials to ensure clarity and accuracy. When the FDA comes across a commercial that they find inappropriate, they are able to demand that the commercial be taken off of the air, but this process could take from six months to a year. By that time, most of the damage has already been done.
A third and more brief concern is that the money spent on advertising drugs make these drugs more expensive, and most people aren't aware that many medications have a generic alternative that is chemically identical to its brand-named competitor. Since drugs are already expensive enough, this can be a problem. Of course, the easiest way to solve it is to always ask the doctor to prescribe a generic if available.
On the other hand, though, there are definitely benefits to having the commercials on the air. One of the benefits is that it informs people of possible treatments, some of which are new. So if a patient came down with Malady X five years ago, and after consulting a doctor about possible treatments for said malady discovered that none were available, it would be a good thing if he or she saw Commercial Q five years later, which would allow him or her to learn that Cure J was now available. How wonderful for him or her.
Anyway, I think that by now my opinion on the subject has been made clear, due to my not-so-balanced treatment: I think that these commercials, while informative, often mislead the viewer in a most unethical matter. That's why I think that each commercial for a prescription drug should be approved by the FDA. I also think that people should realize that a prescription drug is not a Happy Meal. In all cases, I'm glad that Madre has the wisdom to keep herself and her children informed.
Regards, best wishes, and not Malady X,
-Cecily Jane
P.S. By the way, I would like to announce that for their awkward treatment of embarassing subjects, Drug Ads have won the Plain Vanilla Thanks-for-Sharing Award:
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
They Put a Bolt in My Shoulder
My Dear Reader,
They put a bolt in my shoulder. That's right; an object that normally goes in a bookshelf or a table is now in situated inside of me. The doctor said that it's made out of crystal and will dissolve in a year, and by that I mean that I would now like to tell you the story of my recent surgery.
After my shoulder dislocated twice in two weeks, and since I had dislocated it about five times previously, surgery was pretty much the only option. The only other alternative was physical therapy, which had almost no chance of working. So last week I had to go to a pre-surgery appointment with my doctor, who told me that he was fellowshipped in the kind of surgery he was going to perform on me, which I learned meant that he had received special, additional training and was a lot more qualified than your average physician. He told me to expect only a few days in recovery (when I had previously been told two-to-three weeks) and only three-to-four weeks in a sling (as opposed to six weeks). So I was thinking that was pretty darn awesome. He then told me that I needed to pick up my sling and my narcotics. Lovely.
Then they asked me to sign my shoulder, and I actually wrote my initials on my skin with a permanent marker. It's still there. Then my doctor signed my shoulder, too. I suppose that was to make sure he operated on the correct shoulder, and I didn't want to know what kinds of mishaps occurred before they made up that rule. Then they walked me into the surgery room, which to me is kind of like what that compacting garbage room in Star Wars is for most people. Still, the anesthesiologist did her best to distract me by telling me that she graduated from UC Davis, and I was just trying to figure out how to tactfully ask her how she managed to stay at a college that smelled like manure long enough to graduate when I fell asleep. Later when I woke up, I was kind of disappointed, because I had heard that in these kind of situations that they ask you to repeat the alphabet backwards, and though I'm kind of embarrassed to admit it, I'd been practicing so I would look stupid on the big day. All for nothing.
I woke up an hour an a half later in recovery. My Madre had given me strict instructions to refrain from acting crazy when I woke up (I understand that she had a bad experience with one of my brothers a couple of years ago). I really tried my best, but when I woke up, I was already crying inexplicably. It went kind of like this:
Cecily: I'm so sorry. I don't know why I'm crying. I'm not even sad.
Nurse #1: That just happens sometimes. Now let me get your . . .
Cecily: Where's my hand?
Nurse #2: The doctor put a block on your right arm. That's just the way it works; if we let you feel your arm, you'll feel your shoulder. too.
Cecily: But I want my hand back.
Nurse #2: I'm sorry, but . . .
Cecily: What has my hand done to deserve this? And why can't I stop crying?
Nurse #1: Oh, brother.
The surgery went pretty well, even though there was a lot more damage in my shoulder than initially expected, which is why I ended up with the infamous bolt. I hadn't been able to mentally prepare for that, and let's just say that after I found out, I knew why I was crying.
All that I had left to do was recover, which wasn't nearly fun as it sounds. The rest of the first day was fairly easy, since my arm was still knocked out, but by the second day the anesthesia had worn off and I was absolutely sure that this whole thing was just about the worst idea I'd ever had. I practically lived on the couch in the living room because it hurt too much to move. It also hurt to laugh, cry, and even choke, and it took me about fifteen minutes to get to the bathroom because my walking speed now capped at a half-mile per hour. And I had to do everything with my left hand, which isn't my dominant hand, so it was a lot harder than it had to be. On day three, I felt good enough to walk the long ten feet to the kitchen to make myself a microwave dinner, and I had to call a brother over to help me open it. When a girl can't even make herself a microwave dinner, there ain't nothing going right.
Anyway, the nice thing was that, like I said, the recovery went pretty quickly, and I was feeling better every day. My parents and brothers were really nice about helping me out with everything, and that made a big difference. Now, I'm off the narcotics and I'm not feeling that bad. But I had to type this entire post with my left hand. And I still have that bolt in my shoulder.
Regards, best wishes, and bolt-free shoulders,
-Cecily Jane
They put a bolt in my shoulder. That's right; an object that normally goes in a bookshelf or a table is now in situated inside of me. The doctor said that it's made out of crystal and will dissolve in a year, and by that I mean that I would now like to tell you the story of my recent surgery.
After my shoulder dislocated twice in two weeks, and since I had dislocated it about five times previously, surgery was pretty much the only option. The only other alternative was physical therapy, which had almost no chance of working. So last week I had to go to a pre-surgery appointment with my doctor, who told me that he was fellowshipped in the kind of surgery he was going to perform on me, which I learned meant that he had received special, additional training and was a lot more qualified than your average physician. He told me to expect only a few days in recovery (when I had previously been told two-to-three weeks) and only three-to-four weeks in a sling (as opposed to six weeks). So I was thinking that was pretty darn awesome. He then told me that I needed to pick up my sling and my narcotics. Lovely.
Going to pick up your sling before you even need one is a curious thing. I got this whole spiel about how great it was, and why I should go for this super-fab ice pack machine that my insurance didn't cover. Padre thought that the extra features didn't exactly warrant the $190 price. Then it was off to the pharmacy. When we got there, the pharmacist pulled me aside to give me some instructions about my meds. She must have realized that I was giving her a strange look. What she probably didn't realize was that I was also attempting mentally transmit this message to her: "Are you sure that you want to give me narcotics? Are you aware that I'm the kind of person who thinks twice about taking cough syrup?" I don't think that she quite understood, but when you try the mental messages, that tends to happen.
Two days later, it was go time. After they made me put on that gown, I was starting to think that the whole surgery thing it wasn't such a good idea. When they started coming at me with needles, I was getting pretty sure. I don't like blood, I don't like hospitals, I don't like those gowns, and I definitely don't like it when people jab a long, thin piece of metal into my body. They were putting in an IV so they could put the anesthesia directly in my veins, which was a lot more than I wanted to think about.Then they asked me to sign my shoulder, and I actually wrote my initials on my skin with a permanent marker. It's still there. Then my doctor signed my shoulder, too. I suppose that was to make sure he operated on the correct shoulder, and I didn't want to know what kinds of mishaps occurred before they made up that rule. Then they walked me into the surgery room, which to me is kind of like what that compacting garbage room in Star Wars is for most people. Still, the anesthesiologist did her best to distract me by telling me that she graduated from UC Davis, and I was just trying to figure out how to tactfully ask her how she managed to stay at a college that smelled like manure long enough to graduate when I fell asleep. Later when I woke up, I was kind of disappointed, because I had heard that in these kind of situations that they ask you to repeat the alphabet backwards, and though I'm kind of embarrassed to admit it, I'd been practicing so I would look stupid on the big day. All for nothing.
I woke up an hour an a half later in recovery. My Madre had given me strict instructions to refrain from acting crazy when I woke up (I understand that she had a bad experience with one of my brothers a couple of years ago). I really tried my best, but when I woke up, I was already crying inexplicably. It went kind of like this:
Cecily: I'm so sorry. I don't know why I'm crying. I'm not even sad.
Nurse #1: That just happens sometimes. Now let me get your . . .
Cecily: Where's my hand?
Nurse #2: The doctor put a block on your right arm. That's just the way it works; if we let you feel your arm, you'll feel your shoulder. too.
Cecily: But I want my hand back.
Nurse #2: I'm sorry, but . . .
Cecily: What has my hand done to deserve this? And why can't I stop crying?
Nurse #1: Oh, brother.
The surgery went pretty well, even though there was a lot more damage in my shoulder than initially expected, which is why I ended up with the infamous bolt. I hadn't been able to mentally prepare for that, and let's just say that after I found out, I knew why I was crying.
All that I had left to do was recover, which wasn't nearly fun as it sounds. The rest of the first day was fairly easy, since my arm was still knocked out, but by the second day the anesthesia had worn off and I was absolutely sure that this whole thing was just about the worst idea I'd ever had. I practically lived on the couch in the living room because it hurt too much to move. It also hurt to laugh, cry, and even choke, and it took me about fifteen minutes to get to the bathroom because my walking speed now capped at a half-mile per hour. And I had to do everything with my left hand, which isn't my dominant hand, so it was a lot harder than it had to be. On day three, I felt good enough to walk the long ten feet to the kitchen to make myself a microwave dinner, and I had to call a brother over to help me open it. When a girl can't even make herself a microwave dinner, there ain't nothing going right.
Anyway, the nice thing was that, like I said, the recovery went pretty quickly, and I was feeling better every day. My parents and brothers were really nice about helping me out with everything, and that made a big difference. Now, I'm off the narcotics and I'm not feeling that bad. But I had to type this entire post with my left hand. And I still have that bolt in my shoulder.
Regards, best wishes, and bolt-free shoulders,
-Cecily Jane
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Brooke White: She Wears Sleeves; She Must Be Mormon
My Dear Reader,
When I came home from college to visit my family and have surgery, I was surprised to discover that everybody, parents included, could talk about nothing other than American Idol. I haven't watched television regularly for the past four years, as I've discovered that switching my cable bill for a Netflix account greatly facilitated my academic endeavors, and by that I mean that it kept me away from the television long enough to help me actually get my homework done. So this whole thing about keeping up with shows on a weekly basis is nearly impossible for me.
So last week, I had absolutely no idea that two of the contestants on this season of American Idol were supposedly Mormon: David Archuleta and Brooke White. I knew that there had been Mormon contestants on the show before, but I was initially skeptical (as anyone who hears the "they might be Mormon" rumors ought to be) but these two seemed to check out. David is from Murray, Utah (where his odds of being LDS are roughly seven out of ten), and Brooke is from Mesa, Arizona (where her odds, I believe, are even higher). In addition, both of them had that squeaky-clean persona and played piano, which for reasons yet unknown to mankind made it even more likely. When I found out that they were both listed on famousmormons.net, my skepticism was satisfied. While I really liked both contestants, the person who really stood out to me at first was Brooke, who was almost my age, sang some of my all-time favorite songs, and had the nerve to wear sleeves on television, something that the most popular celebrities today don't dare to do.
I know what you might be thinking, that "nerve" and "daring" might not be the right words to use when describing someone who publicly admitted that she's never watched an "R" rated movie or had alcohol, but considering that she was standing in front of America and openly displaying values that don't exactly come in the "rock star" stereotype, I have to say that Brooke White had guts. What's more, she had guts in the right place--guts to do what she believed was right, no matter who was watching. After I began to understand the kind of person that Brooke was, I was easily hooked, and I went through all of her performance videos on AmericanIdol.com. And that was when I learned that she was a gutsy girl who could sing. My two absolute favorites were "I Am . . . I Said" from the top five week and "Jolene" from the top nine week, which proved that she had what it took to be where she was. And while she never drew attention her religious views, her Mormon values were just as visible as the sleeves she wore in every appearance.
What I think Brooke did the best was be normal. She was unique, that was for sure, but at the same time, there was an openness and an honestly to her that made you believe that being like Brooke was something real and human. There's this idea that Mormons--especially those who care about the Word of Wisdom or modesty--can't possibly be real, normal people. I've heard dozens of people say that the Mormon lifestyle is impossible to live, especially if you don't want to stand out as a freak. And if Mormons could never be real people, they certainly could never become famous, since sleeves just don't belong on a red carpet. But Brooke broke the rules. Brooke made it all the way to the top five out of thousands, and at the same time became the kind of role model that LDS people hunger and thirst for. That's why I was really upset when she was voted off last week.
Now, as a vocalist, I don't really think that she was the undisputed best out of the five, but I do think that she deserved to get farther than she did (as opposed to one dreadlocked contender I could mention, who seems to have given up weeks ago). But she said herself that she is more of a singer/songwriter than a rock star, and that is one thing that I would love to see. In fact, I am so impressed with Brooke that I almost want to go see her when the American Idol tour comes to a city near me. Though I don't think I'm going to be able to make it, I'd definitely buy any album that Brooke came out with, especially if she wrote the songs herself. In fact, I'd do just about anything to ensure that Brooke continues to have the kind of success that she recently experienced on television, not only because she's incredibly talented, but also because I know that she has mastered the kind of heroic morality that people need to see in the spotlight. People, Mormon or not, need to see that a person can be themselves (sleeves and all) and still be successful. Here's hoping that Brooke continues to be just as inspiring in the future.
Regards, best wishes, and the wearing of shoulder coverings,
-Cecily Jane
When I came home from college to visit my family and have surgery, I was surprised to discover that everybody, parents included, could talk about nothing other than American Idol. I haven't watched television regularly for the past four years, as I've discovered that switching my cable bill for a Netflix account greatly facilitated my academic endeavors, and by that I mean that it kept me away from the television long enough to help me actually get my homework done. So this whole thing about keeping up with shows on a weekly basis is nearly impossible for me.
So last week, I had absolutely no idea that two of the contestants on this season of American Idol were supposedly Mormon: David Archuleta and Brooke White. I knew that there had been Mormon contestants on the show before, but I was initially skeptical (as anyone who hears the "they might be Mormon" rumors ought to be) but these two seemed to check out. David is from Murray, Utah (where his odds of being LDS are roughly seven out of ten), and Brooke is from Mesa, Arizona (where her odds, I believe, are even higher). In addition, both of them had that squeaky-clean persona and played piano, which for reasons yet unknown to mankind made it even more likely. When I found out that they were both listed on famousmormons.net, my skepticism was satisfied. While I really liked both contestants, the person who really stood out to me at first was Brooke, who was almost my age, sang some of my all-time favorite songs, and had the nerve to wear sleeves on television, something that the most popular celebrities today don't dare to do.
I know what you might be thinking, that "nerve" and "daring" might not be the right words to use when describing someone who publicly admitted that she's never watched an "R" rated movie or had alcohol, but considering that she was standing in front of America and openly displaying values that don't exactly come in the "rock star" stereotype, I have to say that Brooke White had guts. What's more, she had guts in the right place--guts to do what she believed was right, no matter who was watching. After I began to understand the kind of person that Brooke was, I was easily hooked, and I went through all of her performance videos on AmericanIdol.com. And that was when I learned that she was a gutsy girl who could sing. My two absolute favorites were "I Am . . . I Said" from the top five week and "Jolene" from the top nine week, which proved that she had what it took to be where she was. And while she never drew attention her religious views, her Mormon values were just as visible as the sleeves she wore in every appearance.
What I think Brooke did the best was be normal. She was unique, that was for sure, but at the same time, there was an openness and an honestly to her that made you believe that being like Brooke was something real and human. There's this idea that Mormons--especially those who care about the Word of Wisdom or modesty--can't possibly be real, normal people. I've heard dozens of people say that the Mormon lifestyle is impossible to live, especially if you don't want to stand out as a freak. And if Mormons could never be real people, they certainly could never become famous, since sleeves just don't belong on a red carpet. But Brooke broke the rules. Brooke made it all the way to the top five out of thousands, and at the same time became the kind of role model that LDS people hunger and thirst for. That's why I was really upset when she was voted off last week.
Now, as a vocalist, I don't really think that she was the undisputed best out of the five, but I do think that she deserved to get farther than she did (as opposed to one dreadlocked contender I could mention, who seems to have given up weeks ago). But she said herself that she is more of a singer/songwriter than a rock star, and that is one thing that I would love to see. In fact, I am so impressed with Brooke that I almost want to go see her when the American Idol tour comes to a city near me. Though I don't think I'm going to be able to make it, I'd definitely buy any album that Brooke came out with, especially if she wrote the songs herself. In fact, I'd do just about anything to ensure that Brooke continues to have the kind of success that she recently experienced on television, not only because she's incredibly talented, but also because I know that she has mastered the kind of heroic morality that people need to see in the spotlight. People, Mormon or not, need to see that a person can be themselves (sleeves and all) and still be successful. Here's hoping that Brooke continues to be just as inspiring in the future.
Regards, best wishes, and the wearing of shoulder coverings,
-Cecily Jane
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