Oh my Gad!

That's what my baby cousin said to me several years ago as I descended the long winding staircase at my grandparent's house. I was all dolled up for a wedding we were going to. She was three. It's not uncommon for my relatives to declare, "Oh my GOD!" when someone is all dressed up. It's a tad disingenuous but intended to make the object of their feigned awe-struck expression feel special. It's embarrassing but sweet.

In fact, that sums up my family: embarrassing but sweet. Once my parents recovered from the fact that I wasn't headed straight for an arranged marriage post-college, they consoled themselves with the idea of their eldest daughter being a "TV star." This is perhaps the greatest set-up for failure anyone can imagine. My arrogance proved a dubious asset because while it contributed to my delusions of grandeur it also enabled me to distance myself from the reality of my status. In reality, I was a lowly paid news reporter at a TV station that was the laughing stock of a small town. Our anchor was narcoleptic and would fall asleep while our stories were airing. His co-anchor often had to kick him awake to read the story's tag. I remember treating myself to a chilito at Taco Bell and the employees stared in awe and confusion as they saw me on the restaurant's TV while I was placing my order. I wanted to tell them that we were on the same pay scale, in fact, theirs was possibly higher given the fact that I had no health benefits.

But if you asked my folks, I was a TV star. My dad would introduce me to friends and business associates by saying, "She's an anchorwoman for CBS." This was such a blatant exaggeration/lie that I didn't know how to react. "Actually, I'm a reporter for a CBS affiliate," I would point out only to be silenced by my dad's fire and brimstone glare. Out of earshot, he would exclaim, "Why don't you shut your mouths when I'm speaking? What I said that's wrong?!" I attempted to explain the difference between the network and an affiliate only to be cut off with, "You don't think big. To be big, you must think big." Maybe he was right but even years later when I funded my own foreign assignments, I was still stonewalled by unimaginative network execs who wanted to know why I left local news without the security of full time employment. I wanted to freelance, I said. I was tired of office politics and enjoyed the freedom of picking my own assignments.

And once I did get my mug on CNN, the barrage of accusations from my father about me selling myself short continued. "Why don't you work for CNN?" he would ask, clearly agitated that I was encroaching on his bragging rights. I told him that they didn't have positions available that I wanted. "Tell them I'll adwertize on their channel and then they'll hire you. I'll call my friend the mayor and tell him he should make them hire you." Is it any wonder it took years of therapy for me to come down to planet earth?