Running with Scissors

Sara Peterson-Davis has worked as a newspaper researcher and reporter, as well as a communications director and consultant. She and her husband, Monty Davis, can be found in Liberty, Mo., keeping their two children from running with scissors. Contact Sara

Who’s Got Talent?

I’ll start by saying that I’m usually only an occasional viewer of the many talent competition-type shows that populate the television schedule.

That is to say, I watch only if I either can’t turn the channel because I’m, like say, trapped under the weight of a huge boulder or one of my children has gotten to the television before me.

So, imagine my surprise when I found myself watching this summer’s, America’s Got Talent. First, because my 7-year-old daughter’s fascination with the whole idea that seemingly ordinary people can have a chance to show their talents on national television.

Then, because of my own fascination with the whole idea that in some circles being able to twirl a Hula Hoop around your neck while wearing a feather boa and headdress is considered talent.

And then by the realization that in most circles it isn’t considered a talent at all. If these shows have shown me anything, it’s that there’s plenty of people out there who can sing and dance and do magic tricks.

Some do it well, most not so well. But after watching a few of the acts that crossed the America’s Got Talent stage, I began to think America’s talent compass might be pointing in the wrong direction. Instead of pointing to the stars, maybe it should point down to earth.

Let me give you a for instance. In the event angry terrorists ever capture me, whom do you think I’d rather be held hostage with - the girl who sings like Whitney Houston’s clone or the contortionist who can untie the ropes, as well as shoot our captors with her toes?

Then there’s the guy who balances large appliances on his chin. I’ve moved a few times in my life, and I’ve never needed a troupe of clog dancers when it was time to maneuver the washer and dryer down the narrow basement steps. Mr. Maytag-On-His Chin just oozes talent as far as I’m concerned.

Maybe it’s my practical nature, but I’m just not that impressed with a recording contract and a movie deal anymore. Give me a guy who can dress in a cow suit, spin on his head and squirt milk from his udder.Now that’s considered real talent by anyone who’s ever been faced with entertaining more than one 3-year-old for an entire day.

Guys like Piers and Simon are always looking for the dollar signs. Asking whose going to sell the albums, the tickets and the t-shirts? Marketability equals talent in their world.

But by using that logic I’m more likely to pay Buster Balloon to come over to blow up my kids’ pool toys and air mattresses, than spend a dime on tickets for a Clay Aiken or Kelly Clarkson concert.

So where does that put my definition of talent? I think the next round of America’s Got Talent should focus on people with real world talents.

How about a magician who could make all the dinner dishes fit in the dishwasher. Or a juggler who could toss around a morning schedule so everyone gets to school and work on time. Or a ventriloquist who can help a busy mom say “no” without being blacklisted by the PTA.

Now who’s got talent?