D is for Death.
I had hoped against hope that I would not have to rely on a Sue Grafton quip for one of these letters. I even had a D already written when I got home from the workfront this afternoon and I stumbled across this tidbit.
One of my myriad of heroes had died. I remember smuggling myself to stay awake for SNL and Roger and Gene on Saturday Nights, so long ago. At the time, their At the Movies was only on select channels, and in our area, the program was banished to the neither regions of that particular night.
And on PBS no less.
But I was hooked.
My writing, the stuff you still here, was greatly influenced by this man. The only real critic to win a Pulitzer for telling people you suck at moviemaking, he had an opinion and he was totally ready to say it.
But the writing was incredible, truly a delight to read. In fact, I would like to think that many a movie selection somehow involved his thoughts on a given title.
In fact, in college, whilst managing a movie theater, I pulled double duty with the local independent ‘zine.’ I was their movie critic. No one was the wiser. Now you’d think I’d just write reviews to get people going to see specific movies and reap the profits. But Roger taught me something. Critics enhance the experience. You either agree with them or disagree with them-but it still involves you listening to them and pondering their points. You’re going to see the bloody movie if you want to.
And it didn’t matter what he said—we’d still go, but we’d always consider his wisdom.
I write so much with work and creativity, I eventually developed double carpet tunnel syndrome. I, quite literally, lost my voice. I was like a ballet dancer breaking her feet; a chef losing his sense of smell and taste. I was devastated.
I could nothing but whine.
Roger lost his chin to salivary cancer. But he didn’t crash and burn from the illness. He did lose his ability to physically talk. And is not writing mere talking on paper?
No. Your human voice and your author’s voice are very much aligned, but they are wholly different.
His writing became stronger. It was his combining the two. It was glorious.
Alas, his illness captured him. But it did not kill him. I still reread his best texts-his I Hated, Hated, Hated this Movie has a certain pull-meaning that his immortality is assured.
So death has arrived on my list. But we’ve not truly succumbed to it. For the writing-the writing is immortal.
He will be missed. By me.
Peace,
Bardy Roo
Roger Ebert dead at 70 after battle with cancer - Chicago Sun-Times
1 comment:
Good memories Roo.
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