Influence

I recently showed my eight-year-old granddaughter my substack and blog pages. She was impressed, asked me if I was a vlogger or on You-tube. I told her no, vloggers post videos and I only did written posts. Still, she thought I was “famous,” with millions of followers. I wish, I said, but do I really?

She follows a You-tuber who orders mystery boxes of what I would call overseas crap, sharing the journey with an enviable number of followers who watch just for the joy of seeing her open the boxes to reveal her new treasures. In one episode she paid more than fifty dollars to receive four or five items that I considered to be worth a couple of bucks, if that. Why not go to the Dollar+ store to buy the same silly plastic trinkets at a discount? Her “value add” is transforming them into new things by adding gesso or moldable clay before painting them and slapping on glitter. Honestly, she makes these things even uglier, yet some large portion of the market share (second-graders?) gobbles it up. Admittedly, my experience with this person is very limited, being forced to listen to her ramblings while trying to read a book which sadly was not capturing my attention.

Twenty minutes of pure, unworthy, good-for-nothing drivel won out over a best seller. This influencer is smart enough to pepper in just the right amount of poop and butt-crack references to keep my sweet granddaughter laughing.

Today it is easy to think the number of followers defines you worth. I don’t buy it, but I understand how easy it is to fall prey to the lure of more. More likes, more shares, more subscribers. “More” chases after an unreachable goal that always leaves one wanting, well, more.

What, then, is a worthy goal that defines your days and dreams? Mine has never been about numbers, a fact that has no doubt kept me on the sidelines of influence, by any definition. Striving for an ever-increasing fandom has never been in my heart. Sharing words of encouragement by whatever means is. My most rewarding jobs have been wrapped in exhortation or teaching, for so little pay you could barely call them jobs. Even full-time writing jobs were low-paying and short-lived.

One mistaken belief I carry around is that I never had a career and am therefore a failure by standards of commerce. Yet I know the fallacy of basing one’s worth purely on money contributed to the Gross Domestic Product. GDP is a country’s annual total value of all goods and services produced within a year. Theoretically, drug dealers pour a lot of cash into the market system. Sure, they ruin lives as addiction takes hold, often leading to death, but those gold chains and luxury cars add to our economy. Minimum wage caretakers and gig or day workers fall to the bottom of value by these standards. Still, they would rank above moms who toil 24/7/365, often through heartbreaking circumstances, for no money. They add nothing to the economy, in the theory of money made equals worth. I’m sad to say that during my own child rearing years I felt less than for not making a bigger contribution. Today I understand the importance of my striving as our daughters are now successful and contributing members of their societies. My goal then was to raise children who made their world a better place. They have succeeded in spades. I take small credit for that. Still, there were years when I believed a lie about my own value and worth.

It hurts me to hear friends express similar insecurities. They feel they are not talented, or creative, or successful. Falsehoods, all. Talented does not mean winning American Idol. Create is something we all do every day, unless we sit on a throne and order minions to cater to our every need. Success is forming a life filled with meaningful connections and worthy pursuits. I have friends who have masterminded a life for their family, carving out a homestead at which they can all gather in peace and love. Others have filled their homes with original art only they could have conceived. Still more spend their free time volunteering at under-served schools or charities that suffer through budget and grant cuts.

What greater influence can one have, than to improve another’s life and outlook through loving and encouraging words and acts?

Imagine our world where all volunteerism stopped during a time off for no-paying jobs. Would it matter if the millions who contribute nothing to the gdp took a day, a week? Perhaps the economy would continue to thrive as influencers convinced the moms of little girls to buy some sparkly plastic trinket from their beglittered stash. Certainly, the beauty industry would continue to thrive, as would the cheapo import clothing markets.

I believe a day without volunteers would bring the world to a grinding halt. Maybe not immediately, but that child who had a mentor telling them they were worthy and strong might never grow into an adult who continued a tradition of helping and hoping. I picture the library at a local elementary school that exists only because of volunteers who have spent countless hours and donated volumes of books. Who decided that these children needn’t have access to books just because they live in a poor neighborhood? Are we willing to throw them and their future contributions away because they may not influence or add to the gdp?

I say celebrate every word or act that serves to build up and encourage another person, especially children. The next time you feel a ding of jealousy over a trending influencer and their numbers, remember that the beleaguered volunteers, workers and carers are the real influencers. Be proud of every little ripple you’ve made in your tiny pond. Those ripples drive our world to greater things.