Howard Cosell
Recently I was in a large sports bar type of establishment. Numerous pictures lined the interior walls. My eyes were drawn to one pic in particular. Howard Cosell. Howard Freaking Cosell. One of my least favorite people to ever walk on the planet. Definitely my least favorite sportscaster ever (although Dick Vitale gives him a run for his money).
I think of 3 things whenever Howard Cosell crosses my mind. First, I think of how much I hated him. The second thing I think of is his relationship with Muhammad Ali. And then I think of John Lennon.
The murder of John Lennon was one of the single worst events in my life. I should have been used to losing a musical favorite of mine by the time this happened. I am like a curse to musicians everywhere. If I start to like them, they are very likely to die at a young age. The list goes on and on. Jim Morrison, Otis Redding, Stevie Ray Vaughn, Buddy Holly (although he died a few months before I was born, it still counts), Lowell George of Little Feat, Graham Parsons of the Flying Burrito Brothers, Jim Croce, Duane Allman and Ronnie Van Zant to name a few.
But Lennon's death effected me way more than most. And like a lot of people at the time, I heard the news from none other than Howard Freaking Cosell. I can still hear him announcing on Monday Night Football that Lennon had been shot, transported to the hospital and was "dead.....on.....arrival."
This event had such an effect on me because it was the first time I became aware of my own mortality. If some nut can walk up out of the blue and shoot down John Lennon in the street, well, it's something that could happen to anybody. I suddenly realized I am not indestructible and I was not going to live forever.
I lost my childhood hero and idol in the Vietnam War. Looking back I wonder why this event didn't bring me to recognize my own mortality (it did turn me into the youngest anti-was zealot in the country at the time). It didn't even make me fear for my own brother's life as he was to be in Vietnam for another 9 months. I guess I was just too young then. I was 21 when John Lennon was killed (you guys will have to do the math to see how old I am now) and Lennon was one of those people I just assumed was going to live forever. Suddenly, just like that, he was gone.
My father would have celebrated his 100th birthday earlier this fall if he was still with us. Dad was another one of those people I assumed would live forever. Even though he was older than all of the father's of my classmates in school, I never imagined life without him. Dad was 42 when I was born, so your assigned math problem just got a lot easier.
Obviously this thread is an outlet for me to get the lasting effects of this event off of my chest. But also I think it relates in some way to why I do some of the things I do. Like being in the hobby for example. I am now fully aware that I will not always be able to do the things I can do now and someday I won't be here at all. So I do try and seize every day and thoroughly enjoy everything I do. Because who knows how long it will last.
Thanks for taking the time to read this. The same exact thread is posted in the Nebraska forum, so I did just save you some time and some duplicate reading. I am drawing this to a close now and I do hear the applause building as everyone realizes I am now finally going to be quiet.
To he who shall remain nameless, thanks for lunch that day.
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