At The Movies

Roger Ebert passed away earlier today.

I've linked to his Wikipedia page, but that's really pointless. I'm sure most everyone knows who he is.

When I heard the news earlier today, I felt like someone took all the air out of the room I was sitting in. It's what I imagine it would feel like to be on a plane that suddenly goes through decompression. There was no mask dropping from the ceiling of my office, though. Just the quick realization that one of our generation's greatest film critics and authors had left us far too soon.

I tried to explain the emotions I felt regarding the loss of Roger Ebert to someone and remarked that I had no idea why the death of someone I had never met had made me feel such a profound sense of loss. Perhaps it was the shock of just seeing his blog entry yesterday where he talked about the recurrence of his cancer, how he was going to be undergoing treatment and would have to scale back his responsibilities and how he would still be around for some time to come. Or, perhaps, it was something much more surprising for me - the possibility that I felt sad at the loss of someone whose opinion I valued and someone whose courage in the face of such a devastating illness was indomitable.

I felt much the same way when I heard that Jane Henson had passed away earlier this week. I didn't know her personally. I had never met her. I barely even knew what she looked like. There was scarcely a part of my life, though, that hadn't been touched by her work with her husband.

I realized that we all respond to death differently. Some people choose to celebrate the life of the deceased by remembering the great things they managed to accomplish in their lives. On the other hand, I tend to think about how their light is gone and how that light will no longer illuminate my own world.

Mr. Ebert wrote a piece for Salon in 2011 titled, "I Do Not Fear Death" and I'd like to share a bit from it with you now:

“Kindness” covers all of my political beliefs. No need to spell them out. I believe that if, at the end, according to our abilities, we have done something to make others a little happier, and something to make ourselves a little happier, that is about the best we can do. To make others less happy is a crime. To make ourselves unhappy is where all crime starts. We must try to contribute joy to the world. That is true no matter what our problems, our health, our circumstances. We must try. I didn't always know this and am happy I lived long enough to find it out.

I hope that somewhere out there, Gene is welcoming Roger into the balcony.