While watching old movies
And television shows,
And studying old photos
From generations ago,
I find myself wondering
If those vibrant geniuses
Of stage, screen, and politics past,
Would warrant even a moment's notice
From our media, or by extension
Ourselves?
Most were not what we today
Would call "beautiful" people.
They were true individuals:
Homely, unkempt,
Perhaps even bearing
A significant imperfection
Or handicap;
Yet their personalities were strong,
Their presence profound,
Without the aid
Of an army of image makers.
Tell me,
With the requisite (and trivial)
qualifications of today,
Would Lincoln have been allowed
To lead us through
Our bitter civil war?
Or if we had known
He was wheel-chair bound,
Would FDR have garnered
Four successful elections?
And if the press of the day
Were as rabid in their pursuit
Of the personal minutiae
Of influential lives,
Would the nation and world
Have known of
President Woodrow Wilson's
Incapacitation by stroke,
Or accept wife Edith's
Clandestine,
And successful,
Assumption of his duties?
At what point
Did outward appearance
Take the place
Of inward integrity?
And when did their most private lives
Begin to weigh more heavily
Than their ability
To effectively conduct
The duties they were hired to do?
It seems that the politicians of today,
Like the residents of Hollywood,
Must possess outward beauty,
Gallons of white wash,
And the willingness to spout
Accepted rhetoric,
Regardless of their personal truth.
There doesn't seem to be
A place for honesty
On or below
The shallow surface;
We want only to see
What we want to see,
And hear
What we want to hear.