Some of us have reached the age where our heroes are disappearing off the face of the Earth.
We have to figure out how to navigate a world without Tina Turner, Gordon Lightfoot, Cormac McCarthy, Harry Belafonte … so many are gone. It’s part of growing up, like being kicked out of yet another nest. We felt comfortable and secure that our heroes would always be there – and many of us never knew a world without them in it. I cut my teeth on Gordon Lightfoot records, and his passing hurt, and I’m still grieving just a little bit.
Not that any of our heroes were perfect, oh good lord no. In fact, some of them were far from it. And the more we learn about them from people who speak up or speak out once they’re gone … well, the more they tarnish in our memories, and that can be painful, too. They were exactly the person they were when we couldn’t live without their music, but now we wonder how we ever resonated with someone who lived that way or loved that way.
It’s hard, because we have learned lessons that they didn’t, or couldn’t – or maybe they did when it was nearly too late for it to count. We try to do better every day, try to be more loving, more inclusive, more understanding. We try to be kinder and more patient with every kind of person, and try hard to honor the rich diversity that surrounds us. Some of our heroes … well, products of their time, or insulated by their management or their entourage, or sheltered by their families. Doesn’t matter. They didn’t know, willfully or accidentally. And yet they produced meaningful work that helped us process the ugly and difficult business of growing up and being human.
Ain’t nobody perfect.
Even when we try to do our best sometimes we fall short. And let’s face it – the myriad ways to be human and express your most authentic self have exploded in the past 10 years or so. It’s overwhelming to some, terrifying to others. Not everyone has it in them to crush the binary.
As more and more squishy underbellies get exposed, we’re gonna have to continue to offer love, healing, and acceptance to those who just couldn’t get there. It’s hard work to keep loving a fallen hero, especially when you hear about what they were really up to. But some of them expressed deep regrets, and some of them learned to do better, and some of them used their voices to help others navigate new changes, just like they did all those years ago. And some didn’t. And you know what, in the long run, it’s okay – because clearly we didn’t need them to make the leap with us. We made the leap just fine. They’ll figure this stuff out next time.