The Thursday Three

I'd be lying if I said I was a huge Heath Ledger fan, but the idea of someone so young and full of promise dying bothers me enormously. And since we live in a society that often appears to be driven by Hollywood, this story is simply everywhere. Of course, the fact that it was so unexpected just adds to the emotion. It has made me think about


Celebrity Deaths That Hit Home


I'm sure my shallowness will show here, too, but I don't remember any big political assassinations - they were before my time (or at least my memory). So, while I suppose you could make the argument that my choices are all fluff, I absolutely disagree. I was completely beside myself when all three of these very special people died.



#1. Diana, Princess of Wales. Might as well start out big. Like a good chunk of the world I spent a week in front of my television sobbing. It wasn't just that she was a princess, or beautiful, or the most photographed woman in history. It was the fact that even with all the adulation she was a human being with very human problems. And it was also, for me, a weird kind of alternate parallel.

We were born almost exactly two weeks apart. We were both the product of early divorces. We were both nail biters. We both bore sons. And other than those similarities not one thing was the same, except that I can immediately place what was going on in my life by simply referencing hers. I watched her wedding from a place in my life that was pure chaos. Her life began to (publicly) unravel right when mine started to stabilize. Her boys were teenagers when she died. I had just given birth to my third child. Her death devastated me. I have trouble even now just watching The Queen. And I still think there are some people (who shall remain nameless) who need to be slapped.




#2. John Lennon. I was in college and a friend called hysterical, saying that John Lennon had been shot. Pre-internet, we all turned on the radio to hear Imagine on half the stations in the free world. (The other half were playing Starting Over). I watched the candlelight vigils and listened to people singing outside the Dakota with tears running down my own face. It was awful.

I'd always been a Beatles fan and I'd always loved John. And George. I was never much of a Paul girl and I'm not even going to get into the Ringo argument. But John was cool. He was witty and opinionated and willing to stick up for his beliefs. I loved the post-Beatles work he had done and, being too young to really get the whole Yoko thing as it was happening, thought they had a wonderfully intense relationship.

I remember my barely reformed hippie Journalism professor coming to class sobbing and telling us all to expect a "rock and roll royalty funeral." But of course there wasn't one. That just wasn't what Lennon was about.




#3. Steve Irwin. Yes, the Crocodile Hunter. You have to remember that I have three boys, and I have spent an enormous part of my life living through their various phases. Some (Barney, Teletubbies and Power Rangers) are best forgotten as soon as possible. But others, like the Crocodile Hunter, I really enjoyed. He was so joyous in what he did that he was infectious. Yeah, he was kind of a hyperactive dork, but in an incredibly skillful way, he was able to take something totally foreign and make it accessible.

And of course, being an animal lover, his message of wildlife preservation was one I agreed with one hundred percent, even if it was easy for me to agree with - not having any crocodiles or pit vipers in my own backyard. The fact that he married an American woman who was just as accomplished and adventurous as he was made me very happy. And I totally credit him with giving me the courage to face up to my reptile fears, a feat that has made my last ten years much easier to deal with. We've had assorted lizards and geckos, although I still draw the line at snakes. Let's not take this tolerance thing too far, okay?

I think the world is a lot less enthusiastic without Steve Irwin.