Living up to legacies of departed
Our living icons are leaving us. That was one of the thoughts that ran through my mind when U.S. Rep. John Lewis and the Rev. Cordy Tindell “C.T.” Vivian, both celebrated for their civil-rights work, passed away July 17.
It was all too soon after the March 27 passing of the Rev. Joseph Lowery, another civil-rights leader.
The loss of beloved famous figures is especially tough in a year in which we’ve been handed a lot.
We’ve already lost enough notable folks to last us through the rest of 2020 and beyond:
Kobe Bryant. Wrestler Rocky Johnson, Duane’s daddy. Harlem Globetrotter Curly Neal. Don Shula. Pioneering sportscaster Phyllis George. Actress Kelly Preston. Broadcaster Hugh Downs. Actor, director and screenwriter Carl Reiner. Actor and ol’ crazy comedian Fred Willard. Actor Brian Dennehy. B. Smith, the lifestyle maven whose Union Station restaurant I patronized years ago in Washington. Actress Ja’Net DuBois, Willona of “Good Times” fame, who joined the ancestors on my birthday ... as did our own Charles Portis, the author known for “True Grit.” Author Mary Higgins Clark, known for suspense novels with creepy covers. Actors Orson Bean and Kirk Douglas. Even Eddie Haskell on “Leave It to Beaver” (actor-turned-motorcycle policeman Ken Osmond) and Eb on “Green Acres” (actor-turned evangelist Tom Lester) left life’s building this year.
And it really hurts when the best of our music-makers pass on. Yes, I was among those who loved Charlie Daniels’ fiddle-rich hit “The Devil Went Down to Georgia.” Loved everything country singer Kenny Rogers gave us … and still try to live, figuratively, by the advice given by “The Gambler.” Jammed to the 1980s R&B hits by the Pointer Sisters, of whom Bonnie Pointer, who recently passed, was a member. Cringed at R&B singer Betty Wright’s galgives-virginity-away-to-probablythe-wrong-guy hit “Tonight Is the Night,” but loved her other hits. Was one of the zillions of kids who could plunk out Bill Withers’ hit “Lean on Me” on the piano. Enjoyed the contributions of Little Richard and Ellis Marsalis.
Our heroes, our greats, our “quite the character”-s are leaving us.
It’s tough enough that every Facebook log-in reveals multiple friends who have lost a loved one, which leaves one trying to figure
out different ways to say “I’m so sorry for your loss. You and your family are in my thoughts and prayers.”
It seems every flip of the TV “on” switch, every ding of a news app smartphone alert, brings the sad news of the passing of someone who was larger than life … someone whose music was the soundtrack of the lives of untold masses; whose athletic milestones grew our love for sports and made us dream … some civil-rights or other pioneer on whose shoulders we stand … someone whose name came to be synonymous with what’s known in some circles as the seven mountains of influence — religion, family, education, government, media, arts and business.
In the midst of covid-19 and everything else, these losses can be especially dispiriting. But I know we can’t afford to wallow in our dispiritedness. No, the people we grew up admiring can’t be replaced. To phrase it the way a Biblical character or two was told: There had never been anyone like each of them beforehand, and there won’t be anyone like them coming along.
What we must do is resist the temptation to look around; decide, “Oh well, we’ll never have this degree of talent anymore,” and assume there will be nobody else to fill those history books and encyclopedias and Guinness Books and almanacs and statistics books.
We each have to do more than just say how positively we were influenced by the famous folks who left us. Whatever talent we possess, we need to use to teach, train and groom those who come behind us.
Actually, we must go further. Waaaay before we train any young person to hit a home run, to start movements, to make it in Hollywood or on Broadway, we need to lead by example: demonstrate decorum, balance boldness with prudence, choose battles carefully and wisely, to (can’t resist saying it) know when to hold ’em, know when to fold ’em. We definitely should be doing something better than, oh, fighting and even killing each other over such matters as mask-wearing during a pandemic.
We may not appear in the annals of history. We may not get a headline obituary in The New York Times or the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette upon our departure from this world. But we must certainly consider ourselves everyday history makers and shapers … and govern ourselves accordingly.