January 16, 2001

HOW BADLY DO YOU WANT IT?

They're back.

A spate of Survivor shows is about to hit the second-season airways. I
doubt that they will generate the phenomenal public interest and media
analysis of last summer's original set of shows, (knock-offs seldom do) but I
find that there is almost always something worthwhile to learn from popular
culture about human nature and human relationships.

During the media blitz of wrap-up interviews after the concluding episode
of last-year's wildly successful Survivor, the cast members insisted with
exasperation, "It's just a game show--there are no Life Lessons!" But Life
Lessons can be seen anywhere, if one looks closely enough, even on a
contrived tv show. And as I was contemplating New Years' Resolutions this
month, my mind returned to what I considered the most important (and
untouted) Life Lesson learned amid the strategy and scrappiness of Survivor
Island. I was particularly intrigued by how Rudy, the curmudgeonly former
Navy SEAL (and viewers' favorite to win), lost his bid for "immunity" in that
all-important final week.

As fans of the show remember, each week a team or individual could earn
immunity from being voted off the island at the next "tribal council" by
winning a challenging contest that might involve obstacle courses, treasure
hunts, or endurance trials. As the cast of survivors dwindled from 16 to 3,
the coveted "immunity idol" took on enormous significance. The winner of
that final immunity challenge would not only win immunity from being voted
off, but would also win the right to choose which of the other two would stay
for the final round, when former cast members would return to choose the
million-dollar winner.

The rules of the final challenge were simple, and appropriate: each of
the three competitors had to stand on a tree stump with one hand touching the
"idol"-- a totem-like carving placed on a post between the stumps. No
running, lifting, or strategy involved; just whoever continued touching the
idol the longest would win. As show host Jeff Probst put it, "How badly do
you want immunity?"

Rudy, a former Navy SEAL who knows the meaning of commitment, wanted it
badly. He was determined that he would be the last one standing, no matter
what it might take. Reportedly, he asked Probst if he could cut off his
finger and tie it against the idol, just to make sure he never stopped
touching it. (Of course, Probst wisely ruled that wouldn't count.) But the
question indicates how badly Rudy wanted to win, and how far he would go to
do it.

And yet, several hours into the test of endurance, Rudy's hand slipped
off the idol. He didn't consciously decide to give up. Rudy says he doesn't
know how it happened--that he may actually have fallen asleep on his feet.
His hand simply dropped into space.

How did it happen? How could someone ready to cut off his finger for a
cause allow his hand simply to slip away?

The answer, and the Life Lesson, is in the grip. Rich and Kelly each
grasped the idol with their full hand, their fingers curled around the idol
in a grip that must have ached when they let go. You know the feeling--you
hold on to something for so long that your muscles freeze into place, and you
are unable to move your fingers without a few seconds of concentrated effort.
Rich didn't like the feeling. He let go early in the game, but he did it
consciously and deliberately, arrogantly (and accurately) assuming that
whoever won would not vote him off. Kelly continued to cling tightly, her
fingers grasping the idol securely as they normally grasped the oars in her
real-life career as a river guide.

Rudy, by contrast, placed his hand loosely at the base of the idol, his
fingers resting comfortably on either side of the base but not holding
tightly. This was an easy task, he must have thought. Just stand there and
hold on. After all, the idol wasn't going anywhere, and neither was he.
Might as well be comfortable. But when the moment of truth came, when his
mind became distracted by the half-hourly change of position, his hand
slipped away, and he didn't even notice until it was too late.

The Life Lesson is obvious, even if the cast couldn't see it themselves.
We need to hold fast to the things we care passionately about. Whether it be
family, or God, or patriotism, or career, we can't just hang loosely around
the edges. We need to grasp it close.

It's not enough to live in the same house with children and spouse; we
need to hold them close, make them a part of our muscle memory until we
aren't sure where our fingers end and theirs begin.

It's not enough to attend church on Sunday and pay lip service to prayer;
we need to grasp tightly the tenets of our religion, to make God a part of us
as we are a part of Him.

It's not enough to enjoy the benefits of freedom; we need to participate
passionately in the process of keeping this country free, from the inside
out.

Too often we become comfortable in the way things are, thinking our
commitment is "good enough," that it's okay to coexist comfortably without
truly being engaged. But as Rudy learned too late, "good enough" never is.
Many of us are willing to die for the cause we believe in, just as Rudy
was willing to sacrifice a finger for the million bucks he had come there to
win. But are we willing to live for them as well? Grasp tightly to the
things you value. Don't become complacent in your relationships or your
causes. Don't let them slip away.

-- Jo Ann Skousen

email: jaskousen@mskousen.com

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