By Barbara Sowell
Death takes us all, and most often not by surprise. Today it’s best just to say a prayer for his departed soul as we are not in a position to judge. But I wonder if in death Super Stars are forever bound to this earth by the gravity of fame and the perils of fortune; living on in memory as long as money flows into the hands that weave the myths. Those greedy hands that now heap praise will tomorrow leak sordid details, true or not, with no aim beyond financial gain.
There will be time enough to dissect his life and the post mortem will go on for what seems like an eternity until another generation has lost the memory and no one sings the songs, and no one knows the dance.
Glorified, mummified, vilified, novelized, categorized, and then forgotten – it’s the long road from memorial to oblivion.
Visions of the forever youthful Peter Pan merged with the dying and disfigured Dorian Gray are too painfully real; too complex.
Those Faustian tempters, vultures of industry and media, sealed the deal long ago and now present us with that pristine portrait. The Picture of Dorian Gray is forever beautiful, enticing, and so very comforting.
And we will keep hiding his tortured existence and dusty end from the puppets, from the pretenders, and from the dreamers, until another idol comes to take his place.