Gladiators

We're entering into Roman history with our Story of the World book this week. I ordered a few library books to supplement our SOTW reading.  While we were at the library, Sunny saw me checking out one about the ten worst things about living in the Roman Empire and asked what it was about. I just said, "Rome". Well, at lunch, she told Miss Mouse that she wanted to read "that book about Jerome" after lunch.  She was very thoughtful while we began reading her chosen book, and finally, she said, "I thought you said this was about someone named Jerome, but it must be about the city of Rome?".

Well, continuing on with my Roman theme, the girls learned a bit - a very, very little bit - about gladiators today. Basically, we talked about that they were invited to a huge feast the day before they were to fight, and that the people giving the feast got a kick out of knowing that half the gladiators would probably be dead the next day. Sick.  We also talked about how once the gladiator raised a finger of his left hand to beg for mercy, the emperor either put his thumb up, meaning the gladiator lived, or his thumb down, meaning the gladiator died. Sick, again. The girls were pretty grossed out and kept repeating how glad they are to live now instead of back then. It was a mantra through the day.

But then after supper, we turned the tv on. This is a rare occasion in our house; usually the 7 o'clock hour is reading hour, but I was completely fried from poor little Manly fussing for 15 hours nearly straight (of course, today was the day he had his 3 month photos at the mall....which I sort of wish I'd never started and just had always done myself...but I digress....). So, I tentatively let the tv stay on past Wheel of Fortune. The kids had taken my kindle to Mighty's room to watch Mr. Rogers during Wheel, so they were surprised to find the box still glowing when they came out. Incidentally, they put Mighty in his crib and watch it that way so that he's "contained"....they also shut the light off for a more realistic "movie theater" experience. Anyway, America's Got Talent was the 7 o'clock show tonight, and it got me thinking. The girls and I had all been fairly self-righteously horrified that people back in Roman times found it entertaining and edifying to watch other humans kill each other or be killed. It's horrific. It's sick. It's horrid. It's wrong.

Then, on my television, in front of millions of viewers, a 12-year-old little boy broke down in tears because he and his partner, a 12-year-old little girl with braces and a squeaky, baby voice, had messed up on their dance routine. Messed up on the routine they worked on six hours a day, six days a week. Little Girl squeaked out, "I know we messed up. But I, well, I hope they....I hope they still like us. Um, maybe they didn't see?", which is when Little Boy burst into tears.  And right then two sets of big eyes turned to me and asked if those kids didn't know that the winning wasn't the most important thing. If they didn't know that just performing and making others happy by showing them a beautiful dance was the point of it all. Oh, girls. It's you who don't know, I'm afraid.

And I sort of wanted to hang my head in shame. Because even though we don't watch others slaughter each other physically anymore, we still hang on every word and every tear and every heart-wrenching sob story of reality tv. We really aren't that different than the Romans.  I't's just that we don't want to watch the physical body be killed. We want to watch the spirit die.

Of course there's the argument that the story of the winner will be the story of a hero. The story of someone fighting his or her way up from the bottom, working their hind end off, and pulling himself or herself up by the bootstraps. I get that. I cry happy tears with the winner, too.

But I also feel a twinge of sadness when a couple of bands choose to do original songs and are met with comments like, "Oh (say it with the same inflection you'd give "eeww"). An original. Humph. You know THAT'S a risk, right?" or, after the heartfelt performance, "So, now you've done an original...do you think it worked for you?". I know musicians and artists, and I know they put their live hearts out on a platter when they present original works. At least one of these particular original songs was quite good, too, but congratulating people for their hard work, giving some constructive feedback, and cheering them on to higher heights just must not pull in ratings, I suppose. *Sigh*  After those bands performed, the girls asked why the judges seemed not to like anyone's songs and commented that even though each band sounded a little different, they all sounded nice. Maybe the world wouldn't work if everyone saw life through children's eyes, but I'm just going to enjoy this time before they realize that "second place is just the first loser".  I spent most of my teenage and young twenties believing that, to the point of feeling ashamed of the marathon time I achieved while running with separated rib cartilage. It's refreshing to be around people who don't think that way, or who at least don't think that way yet. People who really don't want to see the physical - or spiritual - slaying of others.*

*If you love America's Got Talent, I mean no offense. I'm probably overtired and overanalyzing the whole thing, but the parallel between the Roman gladiators and our modern-day obsession with kicking people off shows just grabbed me today.