Celebrities Gone But Not Soon Forgotten

The world bade several celebrities goodbye last week. Ed McMahon of “The Tonight Show” fame died. Two days later Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson left us. And three days afterwards Billy Mays of infomercial and OxyClean fame passed on. Of course I didn’t know any of these folks personally, but when someone achieves celebrity status, they sorta become part of your life- and you feel a certain kinship with them. Except for Mays, the aforementioned accompanied me through childhood, puberty, adolescence, and early adulthood. McMahon introduced me to “Johnny” on those nights when I snuck and stayed up too late. He was a loyal guy who played second fiddle without objection or resentment. I kinda liked that quality in him. And Farrah’s performances on “Charlie’s Angels” on Wednesday nights assured that the boys around our 7th grade lunch table had lively conversation every Thursday. Said Farrah on one occasion, “When the show was number three, I figured it was our acting. When it got to be number one, I decided it could only be because none of us wears a bra.” This was a topic of much debate at lunch. You wouldn’t dare show up at school on Thursday without having watched the Angels the night before. It was a social must. Thus I never missed an episode that year, including reruns. And Farrah’s famous bathing suit poster hung proudly above my bed, temporarily replacing Willie Stargell and Roberto Clemente of my beloved Pittsburgh Pirates. And then there was Michael. Despite the fact that he was five years older than me, we grew up together. I remember watching Michael Jackson and his brothers on a Saturday morning cartoon show where they sang and danced their way in and out of every conceivable cartoon situation. And one fine Saturday afternoon, my parents dropped me off at the old Lester Theatre in my hometown of Cherryville and I choked back tears as Michael developed a curiously heartwarming relationship with some sort of rodent (either a mouse or a rat) named Ben. As we grew up, MJ broke loose from his brothers and began to sing and dance more by himself. He showed up at our high school dances after football games singing “I Wanna Rock With You” and “Don’t Stop Til You Get Enough.” Michael went with me off to college singing “Pretty Young Thing” and “Beat It” and eventually the whole “Thriller” thing dominated our radios and music television stations. About the time I got married, MJ started acting a little strange. His music remained inspiring with songs such as “Man in the Mirror” and “Heal the World,” but people were starting to question his bizarreness, even calling him Wacko Jacko when they discovered his best friend was a monkey with whom he shared a toilet. Michael’s legal troubles and unusual physical appearance undermined his public image for the rest of his life. Despite arguably being a bit misguided, I think the guy meant well. I don’t know what all happened in those legal cases- he has to answer for that. But his music seemed to cry out for peace and understanding among all people. I will miss Ed, Billy, Farrah, and Michael. Each for different reasons. No doubt they