This month has seen the loss of so much of my youth. Things that meant so much to me as a youngster and adolescent have been stripped from this earth and leave nothing but wonderful memories. As I get older, death becomes a bigger part of life and those close to us and even more so, those who touched our lives through their existence seem to depart at staggering rates. May 2012 was like no other.
Maybe the most damaging to my true childhood, was the death of Maurice Sendak, author of Where The Wild Things Are. If one had to weigh the importance of a book in terms of how it affected us at a certain age, WTWTA would probably be at the top. The story of Max's voyage was like none other I have ever read. To this day, it is as powerful and beautiful as any story. If only people could live life in the same way he did. Sendak might have written other books, but this one transcends generations.
The following weeks saw the death of Donna Summer, Robin Gibb and Adam Yauch. My late childhood and pre-teen years were filled with the music of Summer and the Bee Gees. Bad Girls, On The Radio and the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack were basically worn down during these years. The great thing is that I still love those songs as much today as I did then.
Adam Yauch was a completely different singer. Being a white teen and trying to fit into the urban hip-hop scene was made much easier by the Beastie Boys. While they didn't catch on as quickly as people might thing, they opened the door for hip-hop's acceptance by the mainstream. People forget that their first "song" was merely a phone call to Carvel. This was followed by the album License to Ill which was loaded with radio friendly craziness which endeared them to all types of people. I had the privilege of seeing them perform live three or four times and as funny as they were on wax, they were even crazier live.
And then today, the great blues guitarist and vocalist Doc Watson died. Many won't recognize the name, but his style of picking the strings was like no other. I used to listen to him with my parents and even at a young age, I knew just how great he was and appreciated his music.
So many iconic figures have died in less than four weeks and all played a part in my maturation process, especially in a cultural way. They will be missed as will those from the month before Dick Clark and Mike Wallace. Every month, every year, every week it seems. Someone else. I hesitate to think who will be next, as my youth fades away.
Maybe the most damaging to my true childhood, was the death of Maurice Sendak, author of Where The Wild Things Are. If one had to weigh the importance of a book in terms of how it affected us at a certain age, WTWTA would probably be at the top. The story of Max's voyage was like none other I have ever read. To this day, it is as powerful and beautiful as any story. If only people could live life in the same way he did. Sendak might have written other books, but this one transcends generations.
The following weeks saw the death of Donna Summer, Robin Gibb and Adam Yauch. My late childhood and pre-teen years were filled with the music of Summer and the Bee Gees. Bad Girls, On The Radio and the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack were basically worn down during these years. The great thing is that I still love those songs as much today as I did then.
Adam Yauch was a completely different singer. Being a white teen and trying to fit into the urban hip-hop scene was made much easier by the Beastie Boys. While they didn't catch on as quickly as people might thing, they opened the door for hip-hop's acceptance by the mainstream. People forget that their first "song" was merely a phone call to Carvel. This was followed by the album License to Ill which was loaded with radio friendly craziness which endeared them to all types of people. I had the privilege of seeing them perform live three or four times and as funny as they were on wax, they were even crazier live.
And then today, the great blues guitarist and vocalist Doc Watson died. Many won't recognize the name, but his style of picking the strings was like no other. I used to listen to him with my parents and even at a young age, I knew just how great he was and appreciated his music.
So many iconic figures have died in less than four weeks and all played a part in my maturation process, especially in a cultural way. They will be missed as will those from the month before Dick Clark and Mike Wallace. Every month, every year, every week it seems. Someone else. I hesitate to think who will be next, as my youth fades away.
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