The ``he'' in the above paragraph isn't Jesus, or a prophet, or even a world-renouned inspirational speaker or peace worker. It is Donny Osmond, and the scene is that found outside the Chicago Theater after each performance of the musical in which he appears, ``Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.''
I'm sure you've heard the radio commercials for ``THE SMASH HIT MUSICAL THAT'S WOWED AUDIENCES ON BROADWAY AND IN CANADA, NOW IN CHICAGO!!!'' That's ``Joseph.'' It's a publicity and money-making machine that starts when you enter the theater, with the soundtrack pumping from speakers in the lobby, and doesn't end until you've gotten a glimpse of the star around whom the show is sculpted, Mr. Donny Osmond. In fact, the entire cast exits from the same door, and each member tends to get two or three autograph hounds as they leave. But only Mr. Donny Osmond can make twenty to thirty fans wait for an hour in thirty-degree weather just to catch a glimpse of him.
Just a few weeks ago, I found myself and my younger sisters among the twenty to thirty waiting for a glimpse of Mr. Donny Osmond, a situation that at the time ranked high, along with my actually attending, against my will, a New Kids On The Block concert in sixth grade; and the fact that I own a Wilson Phillips album; on the list of ``Things I Regret And Don't Want Anyone To Know About.'' Let's be honest here: do I, or any seventeen-year-old boy for that matter, have any business waiting for the autograph of a near-middle-aged, ex-70's heartthrob who allegedly beat Danny Bonaduce in a prizefight and has bigger teeth than a great white shark?
Yet when he exited from that stage door and I approached him for an autograph, I found myself excited nonetheless. I told everyone at school the next day that I had met Mr. Donny Osmond, and most of them laughed at me, but I didn't care. I've never been a Donny Osmond fan; I thought the show was fun, but a bit shallow; he certainly wasn't the most talented member of the cast. But when he was standing five feet in front of me, I acted as though all of the above were untrue. Why?
We all want to break through that ``fourth wall'': the one that separates the audience from a performer; the one that separates a star from his public. In the end, after seeing his face in the paper and watching that audience shower him with applause, it meant a lot to personally meet Mr. Donny Osmond not because I respected him or his talent, but because he was famous. I felt as though I became a part of his world, if only for a moment. That moment was meaningless to him; just another face among many. But for me, it was a brief look into his life and his career.
That's why so many celebrities are stalked and obsessed over: because we all want a part of their fame. It is a desire to feel close to someone without knowing them that keeps us watching stars; following them and admiring them. We feel close to them without ever really knowing them; it's enough just to have an autograph or a photo taken with them. We only want a piece of them.
I guess I ``got a piece'' of Mr. Donny Osmond. Whether I want to keep it or not is a different story. But for that moment in time, I got to leech off his fame, and it meant something. That's all I asked for, and that's all I got; that's all anyone needs from the famous. A piece.