It's a tragic tale. One day these people were ordinary hard-working Americans, the next they were heroes, celebrities and household names. The story was riveting, and the nation cheered the rescue, relieved both for the happy ending and for a story that conveyed hope and human resilience in the never-ending wake of 9-11. We're suckers for such stories, and why not?
But when the cameras zoom in, something shifts. One of the miners, Blaine Mayhugh, reported coming home from the hospital to find 50 media trucks parked on his street. He was besieged with phone calls from agents, producers and reporters, according to the Times.
In a matter of days, he was interviewed by Jane Pauley and David Letterman, who put him and his family up in a $2,000-a-night hotel suite. Pretty seductive stuff for a mortal lad. Lights, cameras and a possible fortune are hard to resist. What such people perhaps don't realize, however, is that though the media talk pretty, the media do not love. The media use.
Anyone who has passed time among the cold cuts in a "green room," the holding pen for those appearing on a TV show, knows that this is a wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am proposition. Seasoned professionals know, expect and tolerate the self-sublimating indignity of the television date in exchange for the career-advancing rewards.
But for innocents like the miners, and now Jessica Lynch, the media can be like the opportunistic body thief, a rogue spirit that invades a human body in an instant of vulnerability and displaces the soul. The camera doesn't merely record, but invades and usurps and, in some cases, ruins.
Celebrity has become the scourge of our times for which there seems to be no cure given its attraction. Everyone wants a turn and - as Andy Warhol predicted - it seems everyone will get one.