ISSUE 22 - EDITORIAL

While it’s here

With all of the rejuvenation outside currently the opposite is on my mind. The trees are flush with green and azaleas are ripe in near fluorescent pastels but I am reminded of loss.
Silly as it sound, but this began with Brewster’s Millions. If you’re not familiar, it’s the story of a man who must spend thirty million dollars to inherit three hundred million. The task must be completed in thirty days yet tell no one and be penniless at the end of thirty days. It’s a very American film, highlighting the best and worst of people when money is involved.
The 1985 film starred Richard Pryor and John Candy. For Candy, it was the early stages of a movie career but for Pryor it seemed a lateral move. While the film did little to further or embrace Pryor’s comedic talents, it worked because Pryor is likable as Brewster in the film.
In a scene between Pryor and Candy it dawned on me, that both of these actors are dead. Pryor passed last year, Candy in 1994 at the age of 44. Pryor’s reputation unfortunately surpassed his film work; squandering acting roles in lieu of huge paychecks (Eddie Murphy has done much of the same over his career). Candy tended to play the same guy, a reliable comedian in the buddy role or one in which he’s the butt of the joke. However, we all know who they are; we all remember them for many reasons.
It happened again watching 1987’s Good Morning Vietnam. A scene in which Robin Williams gets lambasted by J.T. Walsh and Bruno Kirby happens mid way in the movie. It dawns on me that both Walsh and Kirby are dead as well.
Each of these films is twenty years old and twenty years is a long time but it was a strange realization that these actors were gone, hard to wrap my head around. It wasn’t a connection between age and mortality. Then it made sense, as people we get used to things, get comfortable in knowing they’ll always be there. We all know the average life span and generally act accordingly.
A close friend recently attended the funeral of his ninety year old grandmother. Repeat, ninety years old. By all accounts that’s a long life. But she wasn’t sick, she fell and struck her head and died because of that. My grandparents passed at an early age so it was hard for me to assimilate but the way I related was the fact that she’d always been there. I met her once, long ago, and was a very kind woman, the image that occurs when you think of grandmothers.
This boils down to appreciation and creating in the face of living. Mothers have children and become grandmothers, bringing life into the world and opportunity, more chances. Women and men creating life is by far the most creative act of all. Some of these children grow up to be amazing. Creative people add more color to the world, adding life to life, whether through film, painting, literature or music.
Especially music. Like photos, music is an important cataloging agent for anyone’s life. One Sunday evening years ago the news broke on television that Joey Ramone died from leukemia. The Ramones were gone. No one would ever get to see them play again. All those years of non stop touring, they were always there. You went to high school and they were touring, you went to college, they were touring, you met someone and started planning a life, they were still doing it. Then Dee Dee and Johnny Ramone died. That was it. I couldn’t believe that band did not exist anymore in the world. It was one thing to disband but hard to imagine they weren’t around anymore. I lived in a world where the Ramones were gone.
We get so comfortable, knowing that someone will live a long time, always be here. But does that necessitate treating them with such a laissez-fare attitude? We should value it while there’s time. Nothing should be so expendable. It recalls a line from a Blind Melon song, And I can’t understand why something good’s got to die before we miss it?

- Brian Tucker