Coming in threes

What a week! I'll discuss my busy week with the Crossroads Writing Project soon, but first, I want to comment upon the three deaths this week that filled our headlines. First, Ed McMahon, sidekick to Johnny Carson. Poor Ed has made the news for the wrong reasons in the last few years, but mainly because he couldn't sell his lavish home. Everything seemed to turn out okay for him, and just as it did, he died. Maybe he felt he could go with a clear conscience, now that his business issues were resolved. I'll always remember him as the Carson sidekick, though I know he did a lot of other things, too. It's kind of a pity to remember someone because of the person's connection to another, more famous person. Still, Carson wouldn't have been nearly as funny without Ed.

Second, who would have ever thought I'd write "poor pitiful Farrah Fawcett"? Is there a woman among us who didn't want to have her face, figure, hair, and fame at some point? The beautiful woman could also act and proved it repeatedly (though we could hardly cite Charlie's Angels as her acting zenith). Her public battle with such a private illness (I'd never even heard of anal cancer till her illness was publicized) made her a hero. We all knew she was going to die. She knew it, too, but she kept hoping. I wish she'd won the battle. It breaks my heart to know she was only 62, an age which grows younger to me all the time.

And, of course, all the public commotion now over megastar Michael Jackson's death is impossible to ignore. Sadly, though no one in the general public knew he was ill, it comes as no surprise that he, too, was a candle in the wind. People who achieve fame and fortune as children don't seem to have long lives, so I'm glad that my friends and family are not rich and famous yet. However, that's beside the point. I always felt that he was immensely talented, but just as immensely mentally ill. As I was having my hair trimmed this morning, I mentioned to my stylist that the world of music had lost a tremendous talent, but that the world of children was probably a safer place. She snickered, and I immediately chastised myself. He was never convicted of child molestation, only accused. And it hardly matters now. That aspect of his life will fade as his musical legacy remains.

I think I'm going to postpone writing about my week at Crossroads until later.