We don’t cry for the dead. We cry for the living. Specifically,
we cry for ourselves. John Belushi, Jim Henson, Madeleine Kahn, George Carlin,
Gilda Radner, Jonathan Winters, Robin Williams… They made me happy, made me
think, opened my mind to other perspectives, and taught me things I didn’t know
I was learning, all while making it all look easy. I never met any of them, in
person, but felt a bond or kinship with each of them, nonetheless. They were more
than entertainers on a TV screen, they were exceptionally
funny and clever entertainers whose influence directly contributed to the
adult I am today. Their deaths were painful. Yes, we can watch hours of
recorded moments on YouTube, but – once they’re gone – there can never be another
next moment. So, we cry.
At least, with entertainers, we have their bodies of work to
honor their memory. With ordinary folks, like family and friends, we aren’t often
so lucky. Maybe they wrote or recorded a few things. Maybe somebody took an old
home movie, somebody else shot a short video. Mostly we’re left with a photo album
or two and whatever images and stories we carry within us. Over time, even
those disappear. It makes me wonder, then, what it is that we leave behind in
this world. We work so hard to build things, raise children, touch lives, and
leave a legacy. In the end, it’s not even up to us; the preservation of our
memory ultimately lies with those we leave behind.
Every time I visit a House of Blues, I seek out the “altar
to Jake” and down a shot with a friend. I never miss the opportunity to let a
Muppet make me smile. Whether entertainers or ordinary folks, my heroes live on
through me: I have my grandfather’s dedication to family; my mother’s words
echo in my head and out my mouth almost every day. Every joke I share – every
story I tell – keeps their legacies alive.
It’s up to you and me to preserve the memories of our
heroes. Do them proud. Share the “7 Words You Can’t Say On Television” with
your friends and your children. Show them how they can entertain themselves for
hours with nothing more than a box full of hats. Teach your girls it’s okay to
be pretty AND smart AND funny AND talented AND still laugh at themselves. And teach
your boys it’s okay to cry; some heroes are worth a few tears.
RIP, Robin Williams. I hope Jonathan was waiting for you on
the other side … with a box of hats.
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