Dear Mr. Big Shot,
“I am writing you with high hopes that I can be a guest-host on “The View.” I think I would be a wonderful fit because I am outgoing, full of personality, and have something to say about everything. I have television experience on and off camera and I am ready for something new and exciting.”
This was a few lines from one of my many letters to the Executive Producer of daytime TV’s talk show, “The View.” I was ready for my shot in the hot seat. I wanted to talk about every hot topic and voice my opinion nationally. So, I sat in my boyfriend’s pre-war apartment in New York City and wrote my heart out. I even hand delivered my resume to the front desk of ABC one day.
On this day as I sat down to write my “Hope this gets me somewhere big” letter I was totally distracted by the summer heat. The temperature was on “Hell.” Calling it an apartment was generous, it was really a room. A bedroom if you lived in the suburbs in a single family home. It was far from a great place to lay your head. It was old fashioned and hot! I felt like I was melting. I decided to troll down four falling apart flights of stairs. They were crooked and cracked but freshly painted white. That was to cover the termite holes because surely they were being eaten away by the bugs. At $2300.00 a month they were living large and the humans were living small in this brownstone.
When I got to front door and stepped on the sidewalk I felt like fire balls were raining from the sky. The blacktop was smoking and the soles of my rubber shoes were melting.
I could hear Sinatra every time I walked to the beat of the streets, “If you can make here you’ll make it anywhere…”but I wasn’t feeling Old Blue Eyes’ advice on this day. I decided to call it quits for a few days. I had already sent about ten letters and the next week in New York was going to be humid, hot, and a buzz kill for everyone’s bright light dreams. I decided to just enjoy my days shopping and eating at different restaurants from 59thStreet down to 81st.
That following Saturday my boyfriend and I decided to go to dinner with his friends. Just as we were turning from his 61stStreet apartment onto Park Avenue we hit a red light. The four of us sat waiting, all starving and yes, hot! All of the sudden I looked to my left and I saw my “God,” Barbara Walters. She was wearing big sunglasses and a pant suit. She was scooting across Park Avenue as if she were being incognito. I freaked out in the back seat of my friend’s Audi A4 seatbelt restricted and all! I yelled out “Barbara!” She just smiled and gave her best Miss America wave and kept moving. Cabs don’t care if you’re a celebrity or not, they will run you over in the concrete jungle.
Everyone was beating my ear to get out of the car and introduce myself to the famous Ms. WaWa and I was stuck. Stuck in the back seat at a now green light with honking horns and struck with horror! I couldn’t believe my dream was cruising down 62ndStreet on foot. That was my minute to win it in the Big Apple and I lost my American dream in the back seat of a foreign car. I was mortified and outraged at myself the rest of the night, week, and month. I walked down that street scoping the scene for the next few hours hoping she would reappear. No Barbara in sight, not even her ghost. I was mad, more than mad. I felt like a loser so I did what anyone would do. I rationalized my weakness and made it better. I had conversations with myself and all my friends at dinner, “If I went up to her she would think I was some nut and probably call for help, right?” Nope. That didn’t really work because I am an eternal optimist and my brain and supportive friends just responded with, “Or she would have loved your spunk and spirit and told you to come in for a meeting.”
That was about four years ago now. I have since given up on “The View.” I sell products on QVC and see so many celebrities come in and out of the doors. Just about two months ago I was standing in the studio setting up one of my many products and I was shoulder to shoulder with Elisabeth Hasselbeck. She gave me her best pearly white smile and said, “Hello.” I just gave her a “Hi” back and went about my day.
Maybe I was overly tired due to our crazy QVC schedule or I was over trying to be one of the next opinionated ladies of daytime talk. Back then I was even on Rosie O’Donnell’s website trying to win her over as she often wrote to answer fans questions. I was willing to try anything. Now, I had a huge opportunity to strike up conversation with Elisabeth and couldn’t even muster up any excitement.
I walked out of work to my car after a long hard day and realized that I hadn’t given up on my dreams just gave up on that goal. Or, was it that I gave up on trying to get through a door. I was knocking and nobody was answering. You know the saying “It’s not what you know, it’s who you know.” I really started to feel that way about the business of show biz. I am tired of trying to sell myself. Celebrities should start selling themselves to me. They are the ones that need us-the fans.
At one time I saw nothing but “The View” and now I see things from my view. It sure was a sad day seeing Barbara’s back as she was walking away…I just cried inside, “Bye-bye Barbara Walters.” One dream gone and a million more till you see me through your view. Put on your best pair of shades because this bright light left that big city but it’s not over because if you can see it you can be it.
I fastened my seatbelt, spun my finger round and round on my IPOD till I found Journey’s, “Don’t’ Stop Believin’.” I blasted the volume and just drove off laughing at myself the whole way home.
