What Can I Do to Be Famous?

Rock 'n Roll and Finding Freedom

“What can I do to be famous?”

I often asked myself this question while I was growing up. In my family, fame was the highest achievement a person could acquire—and it was worth doing (almost) anything to have it.

My Dad was a rock n’ roll disc jockey back when radio ruled, and he enjoyed a considerable amount of local fame. He was one of the first people to play Bob Segar, the Who, and many others on the radio. Our house saw a steady stream of celebrities and near-celebrities. Michael Moore was a family friend—my dad gave him his first talk show on an AM radio station in Flint, Michigan. Alice Cooper came to our house when I was four years old. I remember being afraid to meet him because of his “scary makeup”—and I was relieved he wasn’t wearing it when he walked through the front door.

When you grow up with a father who spends his life focused on fame and celebrity, it comes with a unique way of thinking. Here are a few examples:

-       “Rock and Roll is an attitude.” This phrase was perhaps one of the most consistent ones I heard while growing up. It meant that you didn’t have to actually play music or be on the stage to be a “rock ‘n roller.” It was about being cool, laid back, and a bit of a rebel. You’d always be ready for the next beer, shot, cigarette, or more—and you’d take it in style.

-       “A rock n’ roller is always on time.” My dad would stay out until 3am partying then would faithfully show up on time for his radio show or when the office opened. He used this phrase a lot when we were in high school and college. If we stayed out too late, or had a few busy days in a row, it meant, “Have as much fun as you want, but showing up to work (or school) on time must always happen.”

-       “Rock ‘n Roll.” This was how my dad gave affirmation to anyone who was even remotely related to the music industry. Instead of saying “bye” or “see you later” or “that’s fantastic,” he delivered a quick “Rock ‘n Roll” in a deep, passionate voice that always sounded super cool. A loud “Rock ‘n Roll” echoed off the ceiling at each of our graduations and weddings.

-       “It’s all about the show.” This meant it was worth doing (nearly) anything for notoriety, fame, free press, airtime, or accolades. Many people who seemed fairly sane and predictable off stage would become entirely different personalities in front of an audience. This was confusing, as a child. Which was real—or were neither?

I spent the first decade of my life wanting to be my father—everyone liked him, he was always having fun, and his life was so much more exciting than our home life. But when I was about twelve, I began to awaken to several things the rock ‘n roll lifestyle was doing to our family. (I’m the baby in the photo below):

-       Beautiful women worked with my dad, and they seemed eager for his attention and affirmation. As his career grew he managed several radio stations, so he was the boss. He treated his female coworkers with far more charm and kindness than he did my mom.

-       At least once a week, he’d “work late.” I’d wake up after midnight and hear my mom say, “Where were you, Peter?” He was always drunk, often came home with a variety of sordid characters, and met my mom’s questioning with mocking and belittling remarks.

-       My older sisters and my mom resented my father’s late night adventures and the way he would hide in his bedroom when he was at home—most likely hung over and avoiding the chaos of family life. “Be quiet, girls, your father is sleeping,” was a phrase we heard several times a day, growing up.

-       He was available for everyone else, but rarely present with us. This created a consistent sense of rejection and problems that impact our family to this day—even though my dad is no longer alive.

I often say, “I rebelled by becoming a Christian,” and while this statement always gets a laugh, it’s not particularly true. Becoming a Christian had nothing to do with rebellion, but with finding actual freedom. I no longer had to worry about acquiring fame or proving my “coolness” to anyone because God already loves me (John 3:16), accepts me (John 6:37), and has great plans for me (Jeremiah 29:11)—I just need to follow Him.

My father upheld being cool, applauded, and popular over nearly anything. I consistently watched him change his viewpoints to fit his audience. Afterall, it was all about the show—and everyone wants a good show. He was charismatic, charming, and an amazing storyteller, but the narrative frequently changed based on his current mood or the company he was keeping.

I was relieved when I discovered my Heavenly Father was fundamentally different. He is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow (Hebrews 13:8). His Word doesn’t change, and it’s infallible (Psalm 119:89). He provides a foundation I can trust, even if the world around me is falling apart. All I need to do is seek Him and try to align my life with what pleases Him—and there’s overwhelming joy and peace when I do.

Over time, I took my rejection and disappointment and gave it to Jesus. He renewed my heart and gave me a different kind of love for people like my dad—a love that isn’t based on their behaviors or their decisions, but on the fact that we are all broken people making our way through a difficult world, and God loves everyone—so I will, too.

All of this has brought me to a place where, instead of asking, “What can I do to be famous?” I now ask, “What can I do today to be a blessing? How can I take care of my family? What can I do to be a good friend? What do I need to do to draw closer to God?”

You see, the goal in life isn’t to be famous or to have a stack of books with my name on each cover. There’s nothing wrong with that, but those cannot be the primary objectives. The reality is that our lives are made up of thousands of daily choices that either honor God, or they don’t. Good and godly choices look something like this: tell the truth, be reliable, be honest, persevere, keep your word, don’t lie, don’t manipulate, be kind, treat your neighbor as you would yourself. The people who consistently work to make those types of choices are the true celebrities—changing our world, one interaction at a time.

---

What about you? What lessons did your parents’ lifestyle teach you? Which ones did you keep, and which ones did you trade in for something better?

---