I Didn't Watch the Grammys

I couldn't even tell you who half of the nominees are, but hey, look at my egg basket!

I don’t read entertainment news. Every once in a while some celebrity will make waves that find their way to the shores of my existence— usually for reasons unsavory. I receive it with the kind of sadness I remember my Mamaw offering as she pointed at the tabloid headlines that lined the checkout lanes at the grocery store: “That’s someone’s baby right there.” That’s the memory that’s stirred when I happen upon the news of a divorce or a drug overdose or whatever else filters from the crystal palaces of LA and NY to my little homestead in East Tennessee. God created that person with a purpose. He or she is someone’s beloved child. Lord, encircle them with the Gospel.

The entertainment industry and its products do not interest me for the most part. I rarely watch movies these days, though I once greatly enjoyed the distraction of a good film. I can be lured into an older tv series if it promises to either indulge my love of history or be engaging without glorifying the things that I can’t shake from my mind once the screen goes dark. I will watch documentaries; I’m selective, but I do like a good deep dive into even the most random topics.

I love music—the topic of the Grammys—though. The problem is that I struggle to connect with much of what is marketed. Most popular songs lack creative word play, have poor storytelling, or rely so heavily on processed sounds and machinations that I fail to find any artistry at all. Even the ones that do tend to be disembodied from their creators for me thanks to the seamlessness of Spotify streaming.

This past weekend, my husband was gone. I always try to shake things up a little on the first night Daddy is away. I inject a little fun into the evening by pulling out a board game, putting on an episode of America’s Funniest Home Videos or Homestead Rescue, or doing something else that isn’t the normal routine of dinner, chores, read-aloud, bed. I had seen a app-based game on IG that I decided to try after dinner. It’s basically an app version of Headbandz, with different “decks” you can select to play. The person guessing holds the phone above their head where they can’t see the screen. Whatever the crowd is trying to get them to guess— an animal, historical figure, food, etc. based on the deck chosen— is on the screen, along with a countdown. We aced most of the free decks offered, laughing our way through. The final freebie was labeled “celebrities,” and my 16 year-old convinced me to let us give it a go. After skipping through the bulk of the offerings, we finally settled just making associations and rhyming to guess the names. My favorite was my 9 year-old shouting, “You’re not a female duck, you’re this!” The answer was Drake. We all clapped.

I am very comfortable in my celebrity-free bubble. I don’t begrudge anyone else their interest in that world. It’s simply not my thing. Just like you might not get terribly excited by an egg basket with three different shades of brown represented, I don’t take great joy from hearing about the lives of people whose jobs have elevated them to the status of gods among the masses. I used to be much more in tune with that sort of thing, and some of my teenagers over the years have improved my trivia prowess by sharing their own fascinations. Currently, the aforementioned 16 year-old regales me with pop songs quite regularly, because he is a lifeguard at a pool that plays music all the time. I listen and try to remember details because it is a connection point with him.

So, when I open my laptop after my morning Bible reading and I’m treated to a banner of the day’s headlines that begins with news of the fashion and accolades of last night’s Grammys, I’m clueless. And I don’t mind. The names are meaningless to me, and the albums being celebrated are ones I’ve never heard of. My day will move forward without the knowledge of who won what the night before. I will write for an hour, then I’ll wake up my kids. I’ll finish another cup of coffee, then go check on our pregnant cow, Ginny. Eventually I’ll make breakfast, and move towards schooling my kids on this quiet, unremarkable Monday. I’ll do all these mundane things with winning any awards or getting any media coverage. And that’s ok. Some of us just do our jobs without any desire to stand out or be recognized. That’s certainly true of me.

In Christ,

Heather