The price of fame

I have a long time dream in which I become famous as an....well, suffice it to say I'm not going to go into details right now.

Some reasons?

A. My fantasy is pretty ambitious (and no, guys, it's not becoming a dominatrix, what's up with that one)?
B. It's young people who are supposed to have aspirations, not middle-aged boomers like me
C. I'm so humble (perhaps I could re-phrase this- I wish to be humble, or occasionally have thought of the word humble...or once said hello to a humble person)?
D. If I'm serious about it, even given all of my caveats, it's going to take some darned hard work

But even if I achieve this kind of fame, it would still be as someone who works behind the scenes, not in front of a camera.

I've developed some real empathy for the few of us who have to deal with a torrent of speculation about their private lives. Yes, they become rich and famous. But in the process, they seem to lose something that may be quite precious. I can't believe it doesn't affect them psychologically.

One person is particularly on my mind tonight. In the course of this dating Internet adventure I got to know, solely through email, a guy who has a pretty high public profile. His life, and the health of his marriage, were/are fodder for endless gossip among a group of online women I can only call biddies. I read some of the stuff they write now and then, and I wonder how the heck he puts up with the way they judge and moralize. Sometimes they defend him. Sometimes they are really horrible.

I wonder if he sometimes walks on the beach, or sits in his garden, or hides out in his office, and asks himself-is it all worth it? I have no answer, I never got to ask him. But I'd love to know. Partly because, if I'm ever famous, I'll have to put up with the yakkety yak myself!