"You have been - and always shall be - my friend"

Nimoy at Phoenix Comicon

Unless you live under a rock, you know that actor Leonard Nimoy, the Vulcan first officer Mr. Spock on the original Star Trek series, died at the age of 83. And though he was surrounded by his family when he died, they were not the people the media reached out to first. They were not the people his long-time fans wanted to hear from. They wanted to hear from his friends.

Most of those who were interviewed were former cast-mates on Star Trek, along with others who worked with him in his impressive career on stage, television and film. Many found it challenging to express their grief for a man they counted as their friend for decades.

Not everyone – even celebrities – can be eloquent when a friend dies. I’ve written about the backlash against Paul McCartney’s “It’s a drag” comment after John Lennon was murdered. He attributed his words to the shock of hearing the news just hours earlier. There are those now criticizing William Shatner, Nimoy’s co-star on Star Trek, because he honored a previous commitment to appear at a fundraising event rather than attend his friend’s funeral.

I guess I’m less inclined to criticize, because I don’t know what’s in their hearts and minds. But I found it instructive that those who knew him best focused not on his work, but on the man. Bear in mind these are “official” statements. I’m sure more will come later:

“We will miss his humor, his talent and his capacity to love.” – William Shatner

“He was a true force of strength and his character was that of a champion.” – Nichelle Nichols.

“His most enduring quality was his kindness and his desire to make you the most you could be.” – Steve Guttenberg

“My heart is broken. I love you profoundly, my dear friend. And I will miss you every day.” – Zachary Quinto

“Today the world lost a great man and I lost a great friend. You taught us to ‘live long and prosper’ and you indeed did, my friend. I shall miss you in so many ways.” – George Takei

Even the astronauts on the International Space Station – and remember, that many of them were inspired by the ideals of the original Star Trek series – paid tribute to Nimoy and his unique character on the show.

But perhaps the best tribute to Nimoy – the best compliment for any friend – is the line from Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan. Spock is dying. His friends are not only unable to save him, but forced to watch him die. And though Spock was resistant to expressing any emotions, he manages to tell Kirk, his closest friend, “I have been – and always shall be – your friend.”

Why don’t you say those words to someone today?

Friend Grief's Top Five List for 2014

The year is almost over and I thought it would be a good time to look back on the posts that generated the most interest this year.

The funny thing about writing is that you don’t always know what resonates with people. Sometimes you write something that you believe is so brilliant it will change the lives of everyone who reads it – and obviously, everyone in the world will read it. That usually doesn’t happen. Sometimes you write something that’s definitely not your best effort, but there’s something about it that hits a nerve.

This list certainly surprised me:

#5 Update on Friend Grief and AIDS The second book in my series has been the most popular by far. It’s also the one that I’ve committed to updating every January (so expect a 2014 edition in the next few weeks) to include current facts and new resources. It’s a subject I’ve been close to for over 30 years now. I donate 25% of the retail price (not profit) of every paperback and ebook to Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS.

#4 How Celebrities Grieve Their Friends 2014 seemed to be an exceptionally bad year for celebrity deaths. For some reason, we expect those in the public eye to grieve differently than we would. They don’t. It’s just that their grief is on display for the world to critique.

#3 The End of the Friend Grief Series? The title certainly got a lot of attention. I’m not at the end of the series, but getting close. The fifth of sixth books comes out in late January. But there’s more to come, and the series has taken a turn that surprised me.

#2 Anger, Condemnation and Philip Seymour Hoffman  Ah, celebrities again. The death of this talented actor brought out not just grief but anger and swift condemnation as well. The reactions were shocking to a lot of people – friends and strangers alike.

#1 Friend Grief: Guilt vs. Regret. This was definitely a surprise. I try very hard to avoid regrets. And 2014 has shown me the power of doing that. I grieve for two friends who died this year – Pierre and Dan – but I don’t have a lot of regrets. That has eliminated the guilt I would’ve felt if I hadn’t taken a chance of looking stupid. I highly recommend a carpe diem approach to life.

So that’s my list. I suspect the 2015 list will surprise me as well. Maybe one of your favorites is here, maybe not.

As always, stay tuned. There are big, big changes (all good) coming soon that I think you’ll find helpful.

One thing won’t change, sadly: we will grieve our friends. And hopefully, we’ll remember them with love and joy, as we’d want them to remember us.

How Celebrities Grieve Their Friends

Yes, I know I wasn't going to write about celebrities. But doesn’t it seem like a lot of them have died in the past month or so? James Garner, Sir Richard Attenborough, Lauren Bacall, Robin Williams, Elaine Stritch: all left grieving families and friends, just like non-celebrities – with one glaring difference.

Celebrities leave friends behind who are anonymous and others who are also celebrities. And while those live their lives in the glare of the media, that doesn’t mean that they’re capable of grieving gracefully in public. You may be surprised or even critical of them.

Remember Paul McCartney? He was roundly criticized for his “It’s a drag” comment the day after John Lennon was murdered.

People who hadn’t worked with Robin Williams in decades appeared on talk shows within hours to reminisce about days gone by. Here in Chicago, the local news stations tracked down his elementary school classmates. That’s not unusual. Watch the reports next time a celebrity dies, and see who the first people are to show up on camera.

Often, a celebrity will not appear in public after a friend’s death, instead issuing a very carefully worded press release or tweet.

Sometimes - but rarely – a celebrity speaks eloquently soon after a friend’s death. Russell Brand’s tribute to Amy Winehouse comes to mind, the pain of his loss beautifully exposed for all to see.

Why rarely? Because, as we sometimes forget, celebrities are people, too. They experience the same emotions, same life events. The glaring difference is that they grieve in public, not always by choice.

It seems that those closest to the deceased are often the last to speak in public. They prefer to grieve in private, which is everyone’s right. And I’m usually relieved that that is the case. Too often celebrities – and non-celebrities alike – try to make a tragedy about them. They see a chance to get some attention, at the expense of their friend’s memory. I don’t know about you, but that’s not my kind of friend.

So I’ll leave you with another one of those rare, poignant eulogies. It’s Billy Crystal’s remembrance at the Emmys. It’s a simple and loving tribute to a friend, devoid of the narcissism displayed by others.

What a concept.

Anger, Condemnation and Philip Seymour Hoffman

As I work on the next book in my series, Friend Grief and the Military: Band of Friends, I’m immersed in stories of survivor guilt. Men and women are haunted for years about what they see as their failure to prevent the death of their friend, even if their friend died from suicide. Rarely is there a situation where that guilt is logically justified, but that doesn’t stop it from tearing people apart.

Lately, the news is full of the death of actor Philip Seymour Hoffman from an apparent heroin overdose. I’ve heard very little from his friends in terms of survivor guilt. What I have heard should disturb us all.

“He didn’t love his kids enough to stop using.”

“Celebrities think nothing can happen to them.”

“He was weak.”

“He was stupid.”

“He threw away his career.”

And those are the ones I don’t have to bleep out.

It’s not uncommon for those left behind to feel and express anger at the person who died, blaming them for their own death. And sadly, that blame is all too common when it comes to people who are addicts, because of the destruction they leave behind.

 A doctor once told me you can become addicted to anything: food, Sudoku, cocaine, gin, caffeine, gambling, sex, video games. A remarkable piece in the NY Times by a man addicted to money was a real eye-opener for a lot of people. Science is making great strides in identifying genetic predispositions that can explain addictive behavior.

There are options for those who have the strength (and sometimes, the money) to commit to fighting addiction: therapy, 12-step programs, in-patient treatment centers. But public opinion is slow to catch up.

Those who are not addicts, especially those who are not close to someone who is, have no idea what it’s like to live with those demons. And yet, they feel smugly self-righteous in criticizing them for behavior that is less than perfect. It’s important that they feel superior to the person who died from what they perceive as a weakness, a character flaw they themselves do not possess. As far as I’m concerned, they have bigger character flaws, but I digress.

I’m writing this from New York, where Hoffman lived and died. He had many friends here, who are reeling from the news that 23 years of being clean and sober did not prevent what happened last week. They’ve lost someone they loved, someone who made a difference in their lives. As is often the case with celebrities, their closest friends are keeping their grief to themselves. That doesn’t mean they might not be angry, too, but they’re not shouting it to the world.

Imagine, though, that you are one of those friends. Maybe you worked with him, maybe you lived in his neighborhood or knew his family. Maybe your kids know his kids. Read those comments I listed above – the self-righteous indignation - and tell me how you feel.

Are members of the public – who only knew him from a distance – justified in condemning him on every social media platform?

Everyone’s entitled to their opinion, even if it’s offensive to others. But think about how you’d feel if you were one of Hoffman’s grieving friends, reading the condemnations that fill the internet.

And then, keep your mouth shut.

Because there, but for the grace of God…

When Your Friend Dies: TMI

I learned about the death of film director Tony Scott in a Facebook post from a friend who had worked with him. Since then, details have trickled out about what is now considered a suicide (several notes were found).

It was typical reporting of a celebrity death: “what’s your favorite Tony Scott movie?” Clips from his films were shown on TV and the internet. Reactions from other celebrities were sought.

One persistent rumor – denied by his wife – was that he had recently been diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor. Funny: tumor, rumor. Both should be stopped, don’t you think?

Anyway, it all seemed typical, until this morning. One of the cable news programs reported that onlookers were shopping videos of Scott’s fatal leap off a Los Angeles bridge.

That got my attention.

I’ve always hated when the media plays 911 tapes after a tragedy. Use them in court as evidence, by all means. But I don’t believe the public has either a need or a right to hear dying people in the World Trade Center on 9/11 begging for their lives, or witnesses to the Aurora shootings describing what they see.

I can’t imagine any reputable news service or internet site purchasing videos of Tony Scott’s death. But there are plenty that can and probably will. And if all else fails, there’s always YouTube.

My friend who worked with Scott has probably heard about this by now, but I certainly won’t ask her. Watching someone die in an action movie is one thing. Watching your friend jump to his death is something entirely different.

And right now, I hope there’s a special place in hell for those who are trying to sell those tapes.

Grieving for a Celebrity “Friend”



Davy Jones

 "Did you hear who died? Because if you didn’t, you need to sit down.”

That was the text I sent to my girlfriend last week. I saw the news on Facebook and Twitter, and when I didn’t hear from Eileen immediately, I realized she must not know what happened.

She responded instantly, asking who it was.

I hesitated. I was the one who called her almost 30 years ago to tell her that one of her very favorite actors had died. This was another sudden death.

“Jones.”

“Jones” was Davy Jones of the Monkees, who died of a heart attack last week at the age of 66.

In the interest of full disclosure, in high school we (and a few other girls, too) wrote what now would be called “fan fiction”: stories about celebrities. The details varied, but the plots inevitably included our celebrity crushes falling madly in love with us. Our writing was enthusiastic, but not necessarily good. We wrote in spiral notebooks, with little or no editing.

As long as the nuns didn’t ask to look at the notebooks, we just looked like we were working really hard. At our lockers, on the stairs in the back of the cafeteria, or possibly during World History lectures, we shared what we’d written the night before. The obsession eased over time.

But we’ve kept the notebooks all these years. Some of the stories involved the Monkees.

It was shocking news, and our response to it was probably typical of people our age. Eileen and I had a 3-way phone call with our other girl friend, where we reminisced and then made plans for getting together when Annie’s son gets married this summer.

I’ve written before about how odd it seems for people to get upset when a celebrity – who we probably have never met – dies. But that person – like our friends – represents us at a certain age: our hopes, our dreams, and often times our insecurities.

The celebrities we had crushes on told us a lot – often in retrospect – about our taste in music, theatre and men in general. We tended, as we matured, to not admit to some of those crushes.

Davy Jones’ influence, by virtue of those spiral notebooks shared every morning at school like new installments of a Dickens serial, was a little different. Eileen gives him full credit in an article she wrote on Novelists Inc for moving her future writing career to the next level:

“So, thank you, Davy. Not just for being the nonthreatening fantasy that helped ease my way into the dangerous waters of my teenage years, or for being the kind of person who never tarnished my image of you as a sweet, funny, all-around nice guy. But for showing me what would make me happiest in my life, and helping me do it. I, for one, won’t ever forget you.”

To read Eileen’s complete article: "What Davy Jones Had To Do With My Career"

To read more about Eileen’s award-winning writing career after the Monkees: Eileen Dreyer

When A Celebrity Dies

I recently posted on the phenomenon of grieving when a celebrity dies. We grieve because we have a connection to them, just as we do with our real friends. “I felt like I knew them” is a familiar explanation.

Aurora Winter’s article, Elizabeth Taylor: 5 Tips for Overcoming Grief When a Celebrity Dies, looks at this from the perspective of actress and AIDS activist Elizabeth Taylor’s recent death. She has some thought-provoking tips for using a celebrity’s death as a catalyst for your own life.

Read her article at:  http://finance.yahoo.com/news/Elizabeth-Taylor-5-Tips-for-prnews-1227967326.html?x=0&.v=1

Monday – Back at Ground Zero

Wednesday – “Do You Need Any Help?”

Friday – Longtime Companion

A Friend You Never Met

Where were you when you heard John Lennon died?

Princess Diana?

Michael Jackson?

Celebrity deaths – especially those that are sudden or violent – hold a certain fascination for many people.  The media will be temporarily obsessed with the story.

But what can seem unusual is the way some people mourn those celebrities – as if they were a close friend.

Why is that?

They’ve never met that particular celebrity, even though they may have bought their cd’s or seen their movies or watched their TV show.

But they mourn.

Jeff Goldblum was a guest on MSNBC’s “Morning Joe” and suddenly began to talk about the late Tim Russert, moderator of “Meet the Press”.  Goldblum admitted he was upset for two days, when he heard of Russert’s sudden death, because he had felt a connection.

It may be a stretch to call these people ‘friends’.  We all have our own definition of friend, and it generally includes some kind of face-to-face interaction. 

But they are a part of our lives – if only a half-hour a week on TV – part of our routine, part of our experience.  And when they’re gone, a piece of our life is gone.

Mourn them.

Celebrate them.

But remember your real friends, too.