"No
man is an Island, intire of it selfe; every man is a peece of
the Continent, a part of the maine… any
mans death diminishes me, because I am involved
in Mankinde; And therefore never send to know for whom
the bell tolls; It tolls for thee."
—John
Donne
The Grammys, The Oscars, The Emmys, The Tonys, People’s
Choice, Golden Globes, American Music Awards, BET, CMAs…
Celebrities certainly do like to celebrate themselves. Can
you think of any other occupation so preoccupied with itself? Can you imagine if
other professionals possessed the same level of self-congratulatory hubris?
“And now accepting the award for Best Junior Account
Executive…”
Cue adulatory applause.
Pop culture assures its celebrities that their lives are
extraordinary, special. And if their lives are so significant, so must be their
deaths.
Last night, someone texted me that Whitney Houston died. I
thought, “How much should I care?”
Now don’t get me wrong: I’m sure she was a beautiful person.
I assume that in this world she faced her share of challenges, took
satisfaction in her accomplishments, and was no stranger to personal tragedy
and loss. In other words, she was just like the rest of us. But having a three-octave
range is no more of an achievement than graduating vocational school. (Perhaps
Houston leveraged her considerable wealth and influence for charitable or
humanitarian causes, but its not mentioned in any of the late-breaking news
reports I’ve seen so far.)
Everyday, decent, hard-working, selfless people die
anonymous deaths—their passing barely noted by anyone save a few close family
members. My job has brought me into an uncomfortable proximity with this cold fact.
Poet John Donne once wrote eloquently of the immutable
connection we humans share, our interdependence upon each other. Everyone
matters. But Hollywood has subverted that noble truth: In today’s culture, no
one matters except the very beautiful and famous.
Tonight’s award program will feature an unabashed celebration
of Ms. Houston, I’m sure. Perhaps fans will hold a candlelight vigil, or place
teddy bears and roses on the sidewalk in front of the Beverly Hilton. But such outpouring
has always given me a certain existential dysphoria.
By idolizing the one, we diminish the “all.”
4 comments:
"How much should I care?" At least you cared enough to think that. All I thought was,"Eh."
I read this on FB today.
"OMG I just found out Whitney Houston died. I'm so s.....wait I didn't even know Whitney. Want to hear something truly tragic-173 officers killed in the line of duty in 2011, 4410 US Military personnel killed in the war on terror. Most of those people will only be famous for singing their babies to sleep at night but their actions in life actually made a difference. God bless our Sheep Dogs!"
Cocaine.heart disease.drowning. It'll getcha every time!
So well said.
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