By Nancy Levinson

“Some years back psychologists, observing the intense emotional attachment that fans develop toward actors and other celebrities, named the phenomena “parasocial relationships, with fans investing time, energy and emotion in stars who are unaware of their existence . . . fans even will feel as if they own the celebrity or as if they are a personal partner.” — New York Times, July 31, 2022
I was a fan once. In my earliest movie-going years I was much taken with bigger-than-life actresses, Natalie Wood and Margaret O’Brien. One day Natalie actually appeared live in a department store downtown, publicizing a line of little plaid dresses with starched white Peter Pan collars. If you bought a dress, she would sign her name with a ballpoint pen on the collar. My mother made the purchase as my heart leapt, and my idol penned her autograph. At home, I would not allow this treasure to be washed.
During my early adolescence, new stars twinkled in my eye. Elizabeth Taylor and Jane Powell were tops, and I idolized Esther Williams. On a big screen and in a deep-water pool she dipped and flipped, each swim scene climaxing with rising music while amidst a fountain she emerged gloriously in a turquoise or raspberry swimsuit and matching flowered headdress upon perfectly coiffed hair.


Then there were the men. Heart throbs. Montgomery Clift, Audie Murphy, and yes, Rock Hudson. Magazines called Motion Picture, Photoplay, and Silver Screen, priced a dime each at the drugstore, contained full-page pictures of these dreamy faces up close. I carefully cut them out and pinned them on my bedroom walls. One could also write requests directly to studios in Hollywood, California and receive glossy 8×10 photos. Free!
Soon I became a Doo Wop music devotee, mooning over The Four Lads, The Four Freshman, the Platters. . . with friends I listened to records in listening booths in a department store (the same store where Natalie Wood signed my dress) and occasionally paid ninety-nine cents to buy one. Johnny Ray was all the rage, too. Yes, I was fan of the singer and his outrageously dramatic performances. “Cry” and “The Little White Cloud that Cried.” Oh, how I cried! And Screamed! That came to be known as hysteria. Later I would understand the emotional and hormonal needs of early-teen girl mobs squealing at Beatles concerts.
One hot summer evening I was in my room upstairs, singing loudly along with Johnny Ray on my victrola when the doorbell rang. On the front step stood the boy next door with two friends, arms outstretched while they burst into song, wildly imitating me and my idol. Then they busted into uncontrollable laughter.
Well, the time was right for me to move on anyway. I was just learning to play tennis and following the greats of the day, especially Maureen Connolly. Once I got a ticket to an indoor arena match between Jack Kramer and Pancho Segura. The following week I bought a white shirt and shorts like those pros sported and wore them all summer on my neighborhood park court. (washed) I wasn’t fawning. That, of course, was the proper court wear. As I watched those athletes on screens, small and large, I learned strokes, swings, rules, good manners, and proper behavior in competition. Looking back, I might say that I’d become a student!
How innocent I was as a young fan! And what a different time before Celebrity Culture invaded with yet more movies, TV, live heavy metal and rock concerts, Sunset Boulevard- style billboards, and ever-present social media. And don’t the big-name stars revel in limelight attention, money, power, and privileges! A two-way road.
Wikipedia includes a large entry discussing “celebrity worship syndrome,” some crazed enough to involve stalking and attacking performers on stage. Security guards are employed full-time. Psychologists and journalists offer a range of explanations for current fandom, often reaching a place of obsession. Fascinated, many feel attached to the wealth, fame, and glowing glamour. Others may be somewhat small-minded or feel empty or powerless, and a relationship they conjure becomes one of love, sometimes, sadly, even believing it to be requited.
For myself, in passing time I began taking to heart all manner of personalities, dead and alive. . . artists, writers, journalists, symphonic and operatic performers. . . Occasionally, I have written letters to novelists and editorial columnists praising their work. I join standing ovations in theaters and concert halls, but I am not a fan, as such.
I am a devoted admirer.
© 2022 Nancy Levinson
Nancy is the author of MOMENTS OF DAWN: A Poetic Memoir of Love & Family, Affliction & Affirmation, as well as a chapbook, The Diagnosis Changes Everything. Her work has appeared in many journals and anthologies, including Poetica, Sledgehammer, Hamilton Stone Review, Panoply, Constellations, and Fleas on the Dog. In past chapters of her life, she published thirty books for young readers. Her youthful years were spent in Minneapolis. It happens that she now lives in Los Angeles, only minutes from Hollywood.
LifeMapping—Because Everything Happened Somewhere
By Sarah White
An email recently popped into my in-box that reminded me of one of the oddest—and most entertaining—freelance writing assignments I’ve ever taken on. That email was about a reminiscence tool that you might consider for yourself or a loved one. I had doubts back then but today, I’m a fan.
The email began:
“A few years ago, you were one of the very first users of LifeMapping, an interactive mapping application that lets you literally map the story of your life, story by story, event by event. Thank you for your early support…”
It was sent by Dean Olsen, founder of a tech start-up that has built an app that creates an online autobiography for an individual. It went on to say, “I’m delighted to announce that, after much work, we are launching LifeMapping to the paying public.”
My assignment back in 2017 had been to craft one thousand prompting questions for the app.
I’m generally skeptical of apps for reminiscing; IMHO it is an activity best pursued by two live people interacting in real time, or a writer engaged in thoughtful reflection at a keyboard or page. But the money was good and Dean’s enthusiasm was (and still is) infectious. I wrote about 850 questions before my well ran dry. Working with Dean and his team back then was a pleasure. I lost touch with Dean and LifeMapping for a while. Then, his email arrived.
“Rediscover the events and experiences that made you who you are”
Dean’s flash of insight that led to the app is simple: “Everything happens somewhere, so why don’t we use time and space to organize our stories?” The LifeMapping app combines prompting questions, a simple user interface, and a digital map layer to create private online maps. Users create a LifeMap that holds stories, photos, and/or sound files, each tied to a date on a timeline and specific map coordinates. The app is designed so that each individual’s LifeMap can be shared with family and friends.
The truth of Dean’s insight became clear to me during the last months of my mother’s life. It was the first summer of COVID, and we were constrained to meeting outside her assisted living facility. With nothing to do, I tried to interest her in reminiscing. But she didn’t respond well to my random questions; at 97, they didn’t get her memories flowing. Then I discovered that she responded excitedly to Google Maps. I started using her iPad to take her to the address of her childhood home in Huntington, Indiana. Then we would “walk away” from her front door in different directions. Her memories spilled out about people, places, events… soon I was switching on my iPhone’s Voice Messages app to capture her recollections. If I’d thought of using LifeMapping then, I would have done so. Using a map as a prompt made all the difference.
For now: best used on a laptop; in the future, a convenient mobile app
From that first flash of insight, Dean has pursued his app development with a relentless energy that led to significant startup funding (which is how I got paid to draft those prompting questions). Since then, perseverance has been the name of Dean’s long game. He works a “day job”; he invests what he can in development; he reaches milestones like the one that triggered his recent email. It continued, “Over the past few years, we’ve been doing steady work on LifeMapping. Come visit us at lifemapping.co to see what we’ve done.”
When I reached out to Dean after receiving the email, he told me, “I’m hearing nice stuff. Folks are saying ‘this is just the tool I was hoping for. It is easy for me to use, it’s easy for my father, and he’s really enjoying it.’”
This brings to light why a reminiscence app can be as good as two live people interacting in real time. Dean told me, “So far, it’s been pretty successful at promoting interactions. Someone said to me last week that her grandmother had started a LifeMap. As the family was driving up to visit her, the parents told the children, ‘I want you to pull up Grandma’s map and think about a few of the stories you would like to hear more about.’ And the person told me, it actually worked!”
“Most of the development work has been making sure that the time and effort people put into using the app is honored; that their memories are preserved and safe,” Dean told me. He is adamant about the absolute privacy of users’ content in the app; therefore he’s chosen not to accept money from investors or advertisers who might logically expect to harvest user data. The site does not accept advertising or links to outside sites.
Dean acknowledges that the app interface in its current iteration is still clunky on mobile devices. “Please let folks know we are in continuous improvement. It’s just that, in order for us to remain ad-free, we need to finance our work by subscription fees.”
Dean would be delighted to see you register for an account and give LifeMapping a try. A free 14-day trial starts when you sign up; a subscription costs $7.95/month if you choose to continue after the trial period. Gifting a subscription to an older family member is a popular option. Consider giving it a shot, and sending Dean an email to let him know about your experience!
© 2022 Sarah White
Share this:
Like this: