It's not quite the end of the first month of the new year, and we've already had so much sad celebrity news.
Years ago, coworkers and I participated in a little "game," which sounds more macabre than it was intended when I try to explain it. I'd been told that celebrities seem to die in groups of three. We'd keep an eye on the news and listen to the radio. (This was back in the days before social media, or at least when it was still in its infancy.) Then, it was sort of a "race" to see which of us could break the news to the others first. I remember calling a work friend. When the phone was answered, I simply said, "Jerry...Garcia." (The dramatic pause was part of the game.) When I got no real response, I realized that it wasn't the friend but his mildly confused brother. I asked him to relay the message as is without further explanation. I consider myself the winner of that round.
But it's already gotten out of hand early in 2016. Less than two weeks in, I'd noted we'd recently lost Meadowlark Lemon, Lemmy Kilmister, Wayne Rogers, Natalie Cole, Pat Harrington Jr., and David Bowie. (Just looking at that list reminds me how some of those names likely mean little to folks under 30.) Just a few days later, Alan Rickman passed away. I was almost afraid to check a news feed in the morning lest I see another famous name. Then, Dan Haggerty and Glenn Frey, followed by the oft-falsely-reported Abe Vigoda. (I'm sure there are more. These are just those I am most familiar with, names and faces I either grew up with or entertainment legends.) Each became a "trending topic," spread across both social and traditional media. It's a shame that some receive more fame when they die than they did the day before. And don't get me started on what sort of ridiculous excess and foolish behavior brings fame to some these days.
This did make me reflect just a bit on my own life, however. I know that when my time comes some day, there won't be any retrospective montages on TV or shared Facebook posts. I can only hope that a few tears are shed, some funny stories are told, and I'm remembered fondly. My life and actions will never have the impact of the people noted above. I'll never be a star or a legend. My name will never be a household word. And that's OK with me. I'd much rather focus on quality, not quantity. I'll try to make sure those I love know it. I want them to be glad I'm in their lives now, and not just talk about me when I'm gone.
And you can remember me as the gal who sometimes wrote late at night without rough drafts or revisions because an idea popped into her head and she just wanted to get it out there before that thought drifted away.
Years ago, coworkers and I participated in a little "game," which sounds more macabre than it was intended when I try to explain it. I'd been told that celebrities seem to die in groups of three. We'd keep an eye on the news and listen to the radio. (This was back in the days before social media, or at least when it was still in its infancy.) Then, it was sort of a "race" to see which of us could break the news to the others first. I remember calling a work friend. When the phone was answered, I simply said, "Jerry...Garcia." (The dramatic pause was part of the game.) When I got no real response, I realized that it wasn't the friend but his mildly confused brother. I asked him to relay the message as is without further explanation. I consider myself the winner of that round.
But it's already gotten out of hand early in 2016. Less than two weeks in, I'd noted we'd recently lost Meadowlark Lemon, Lemmy Kilmister, Wayne Rogers, Natalie Cole, Pat Harrington Jr., and David Bowie. (Just looking at that list reminds me how some of those names likely mean little to folks under 30.) Just a few days later, Alan Rickman passed away. I was almost afraid to check a news feed in the morning lest I see another famous name. Then, Dan Haggerty and Glenn Frey, followed by the oft-falsely-reported Abe Vigoda. (I'm sure there are more. These are just those I am most familiar with, names and faces I either grew up with or entertainment legends.) Each became a "trending topic," spread across both social and traditional media. It's a shame that some receive more fame when they die than they did the day before. And don't get me started on what sort of ridiculous excess and foolish behavior brings fame to some these days.
This did make me reflect just a bit on my own life, however. I know that when my time comes some day, there won't be any retrospective montages on TV or shared Facebook posts. I can only hope that a few tears are shed, some funny stories are told, and I'm remembered fondly. My life and actions will never have the impact of the people noted above. I'll never be a star or a legend. My name will never be a household word. And that's OK with me. I'd much rather focus on quality, not quantity. I'll try to make sure those I love know it. I want them to be glad I'm in their lives now, and not just talk about me when I'm gone.
And you can remember me as the gal who sometimes wrote late at night without rough drafts or revisions because an idea popped into her head and she just wanted to get it out there before that thought drifted away.
