I registered this blog name with Blogger a few years ago in order to write about my adventures in middle-aged dating-land, but didn't write a word until last month for many reasons; not the least of which is that I've barely been dating in the past few years.
But two public events in the past month spurred me to start writing again.
The first was the death of Canadian actor Cory Monteith. As I read through the stories online about this young man, I also read some of the comments. Interspersed with all the RIP and love from fans were the "who cares" and "just another junkie" and the "why should we care about this guy when so many other people struggle with and die from drug addiction every day?"
10 days later, His Royal Highness Prince George of Cambridge was born and the commentary turned to "just another baby in this world, why should we care?"
The young prince's grandmother, Princess Diana, changed the way the world reports and looks at celebrity; I would say that it is sadly not for the better. The public seems to have developed an insatiable appetite for the private details of the lives of public personages; though if one was to turn that spy glass around on the lives of those demanding to "know", I daresay they would find it an intrusion in the extreme and would lash out, as some in the public eye do from time to time.
I developed an appreciation for that during a very public trial conducted at the courthouse where I work. One day, I was accosted by a news camera-man while trying to get into my workplace, and after that incident, I was kindly chauffeured to and from the office by several co-workers for the duration of the trial. The first afternoon I was driven home, I understood what some celebrities go through, as photographers stood on the ramp to our parking garage, photographing everyone leaving the building, hoping to get that one shot of the accused or the "star witness" against him.
It was an eye-opening experience.
Some people DO care very, very much about what happens in the lives of others. The reasons vary from cheap thrills, to "there but for the grace of *insert deity here* go I, to escapism from the poverty of their own existence.
I am not one of those people who care about every random "famous" person, but what does bother me is the desire, almost need, of some to diminish the feelings of those who DO care.
Yes, thousands of babies are born into this world every day; but only one will be King of Great Britain and the Commonwealth (if it still exists when George takes the throne). And there are many more thousands of people around the world who see this child's ties to his late grandmother and wonder "what if?"
Even more, I am perturbed by those who seek to diminish public mourning at the death of a public figure. If someone has an impact on your life, who are we (the rest of us) to negate your feelings, be they expressed on a message board, the comments section of a news site, post-it notes attached to a store front (as happened upon the death of Apple co-founder, Steve Jobs), chalk drawings at City Hall (Jack Layton) or through leaving flowers at the gates of a palace?
It is sad when a young life is lost to drug abuse (or cancer, or an accident), and it doesn't matter to the family of that person if they are a "celebrity" or not. Amy Winehouse's parents were very open about their grief after the passing of their daughter; I doubt their grief was any greater or any less than that of the family or friends of Jane Smith or John Brown who died of an overdose the same day.
Had I known Jane Smith or John Brown, even in passing, I, too, might have felt a pang of sadness.
At the most basic level, we are all linked together on this spaceship called Earth. We all share the same fate. This is why I try to never forget the immortal words of the Renaissance poet John Donne:
No man is an island entire of itself;
is a piece of the continent, a part of the main;
if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe
is the less,
as well as if a promontory were,
well as any manner of thy friends or of thine
any man's death diminishes me,
because I am involved in mankind.
And therefore never send to know for whom
the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.
(The words above are taking on more significance for me today following the death of a co-worker over the weekend. It was a pleasure to work with Bonnie over the past couple of years and I cannot believe that I will not pick up the phone again to hear her say "Hello, dah-link, it's Bon!" She'll be missed.)