20 August 2017
another piece of the foundation
of my childhood,
then later, of my life,
has gone away.
Jerry Lewis died this morning.
For hundreds of reasons,
I love him. We all did.
His talents, his funny way of life,
the parts of him he let you see —
he had it all, as far as I was concerned.
We could see a little bit of ourselves,
a little bit of everyone,
in the shared glimpses of himself
that he gave to the audience
from time to time.
He has joined with those other parts of my life
and he has earned his place among them...
Annette Funicello, Mickey Mantle, Frank Sinatra,
Sammy Davis Jr, Lee Marvin, John Wayne,
Robert Frost, so damn many names
that meant so much to me.
I'm starting to feel a little lonely here.
They're all going now...
they've been leaving for years,
and it's just now starting to give me
pause to think about that.
One minute they are right there,
living, breathing, smiling,—
and then the next moment... and they are gone.
Nothing to prepare us for that kind of ending.
Just a quick, unannounced exit, stage left,
and the audience is starting to stand for an ovation,
but the center of attention has left the building,
leaving the audience to be somber and quiet
as they drive home.
We all loved him.
What was there not to love?
His job was to be the errand boy,
to bring smiles and laughs and happiness to us.
He did it well.
If I were to write an epitaph for him,
that is all that I would say.
He lived his life to make us smile,
and he did the best that he could.
Comments on this poem/writing:
|shiloh (22.214.171.124) -- Monday, August 21 2017, 04:53 am|
He tried to make us see that life was serious. but not all that serious. He tried to show us that we could laugh at ourselves and enjoy life. We really should have paid better attention to him.
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