Final Paper, Andrew Damiter

My family is full of people with absurdly selective memories. To be more specific, they have sharp memories when it comes to things I mention in passing and don’t mean to place too much emphasis on. I have said things in passing that my parents have taken to heart and harp on me about to this day. Briefly mention once that I don’t much care for a particular teacher and then never speak of said person in a negative light again? That teacher is henceforth known as “that teacher you don’t like.” If I explain to my grandfather how to right click on the computer, you better believe it’s going to take five or six spread out lessons to get that information to stick. What does this have to do with fame? It’s very simple: my parents spread my thoughts.

My parents reside two hours north of Philadelphia in the Pocono area. Whenever they come to pick me up and drive me home for a weekend, that’s two hours I have to fill with conversation. They ask questions, I answer and a dialogue ensues. This drive apparently takes us through an alternate realm, one where everything I say has added value and nothing I say is forgotten. I have said more than my fair share of things that I shouldn’t have. This doesn’t mean that I’ve never said anything that I regret saying because it was hurtful. On the contrary, since it involved me it was rather positive. The problem arose from the fact that no one besides myself really needed to know, and after it left my mouth I knew that everyone my parents, specifically my mother, came in contact with would hear exactly what I said.

Perhaps it’s just a parental thing, but even still it can get quite annoying, especially when I no longer back up whatever it was I originally said. In a sense this causes me to become “famous” on a very small scale, and it is generally fame I do not want to accept. Prior to this term, I planted a few ideas that have grown into full-blown headaches. Other ideas were hatched simply because of this project. On the following pages I will discuss what effects prior statements I have made have had on my relationship with my family, and I will also discuss what effect new statements have had and how far word of such statements have managed to spread over the course of ten weeks.

I like to write. A lot. This became apparent early in high school and I didn’t hide it. I would write this and that and show it to my parents. I never learned they viewed it as possibly more than a hobby until I changed my major from computer science to communications my freshman year of college. When I changed, my mother told me shortly thereafter that she was sure I was going to change my major before I even started school, and shortly after I changed she immediately began to tell everyone that had even the slightest idea of who I was that I had done so. The point is, something I took for granted was a major talking point amongst a lot of people and I wasn’t even aware of it. On a small scale I had become famous simply by making a personal decision.

During the summer of 2006 I spent a few days scouring the internet for information on various graduate school programs. I looked at everything from English to broadcasting to law. Unfortunately for me, I mentioned this during one of those infamous drives home. Apparently law is one of those words that makes an impact, though one I certainly wasn’t anticipating. I mentioned it in such a way as to place no emphasis on it. When questioned, I simply mentioned that I had heard Temple University had a good trial law program. That conversation has created a wave of turmoil that makes me wish I knew how to surf.

To make one thing very clear, I have no plans to even apply for law school. I have said this to my parents before but they tend to ignore me and continue to spread their propaganda. During a drive home from school in late April, about thirty minutes in my dad asked me if I was still considering law school. I resigned myself to my default answer, which has become “it’s not high on my list of priorities.” What is high? English and scriptwriting, which I’ve mentioned on numerous occasions. Does that matter? No, not in the least. What does matter is that my parents latched on to the law concept and spread that thought like wildfire.

Note: I only mentioned Temple University as a law school option because, frankly, I don’t have the GPA to get into a top-tier school. Not that Temple in a poor school, it’s just that their admission standards aren’t ludicrously overblown like some of the more typically thought of programs like those at Duke or Harvard. With that noted, I discovered in early May that when my mother talked about law school she told people I was likely going to go into some sort of corporate law, and by that I believe she meant copyright law or something equally boring. She never mentioned criminal law, which relates directly to Temple’s trial program.

I went to the graveyard that contains a number of my passed relatives over Memorial Day weekend. Usually it’s just myself, my dad, his mother and perhaps one of my dad’s brothers. This time around there were numerous relatives there that I hadn’t seen in years. As we were standing around the grave of one of my distant cousins, an aunt I’ve met only a handful of times strolled up next to me and, in front of a group of relatives I’ve never said more than hello to, she says, “So, I hear you’re going to law school.” Not looking, not considering, not applying, but going. No questions asked.

There are teachers I had in high school that think I’m going to law school. One of them in particular knew about my major switch a few days after I told my parents. Since I left high school my parents only talked to said teacher twice; one time for each proclamation. I have tried on numerous occasions to talk about pursuing writing grad work but the thought never completely sticks. Well, that’s not entirely true. There are two families, one in Hungary and one in Thailand, that might listen to the truth.

My parents took in two foreign exchange students, both of whom are returning home late this month. When I’m home I do nothing but criticize mediocre movies and praise terrible sci-fi movies for their, well, terribleness. Over the past few weeks I made sure to step up my efforts. The two of them soak up so much television that it’s borderline scary, so I know my words, at least the ones they understand, are not falling on deaf ears. Law? Sure, they’ve heard it mentioned, but it never meant anything. Now movie and novel writing, that’s what they’re going to tell their folks back home when they talk about me. Should I ever get something published I know I have at least two guaranteed sales abroad.

My half-brother in Michigan emailed me about it. One of my grandmothers uses it as fuel amongst her church-going friends whenever they discuss their grandchildren. I mention law school in a passing manner and I instantly change people’s perceptions. In my own special way I am famous within my family and extended family simply because I opened my mouth. This says a lot about what people are willing to accept at face value without knowing the full story and what delusions people will cast in front of themselves in order to continue believing in something that simply isn’t true.

All of this has created more than a few tense moments at home. Whenever law gets mentioned I try to end the conversation as quickly as possible and a few moments of awkward silence generally follow as everyone decides whether or not to ask another related question. I think it has a lot to do with the fact that my parents don’t want to have to recant what they’ve already said to friends and family. It hasn’t altered our relationship to a noticeably significant degree, but the difference is still quite obvious. Come this fall when it becomes entirely clear that I will most certainly not be applying to law schools, there is going to be some disappointed head shaking.

But I digress. In the end, fame is about perception. People that aren’t interested in the culture of Hollywood but rabidly follow some particular novel writer have a different perception of fame than do people that fall head over heels for actors. In my small neck of the woods, fame is proportional to how much someone is talked about. A year after I let something slip it’s still being talked about, even though I’ve made a recent effort to dispel the false truths. If I wouldn’t have said anything about law school, a few relatives would have said nothing more than a passing “hello” to me over Memorial Day weekend. If I hadn’t made an effort to emphasize my critical nature, two foreign exchange students would think of me as nothing more than a grumpy old man (which wouldn’t be incorrect). The point is, fame is in the eye of the beholder. Just because you don’t want it doesn’t mean you can avoid it. If enough people with enough influence want you to be famous, you’re going to be famous.