By Rawlins Gilliland, KERA 90.1 Commentator
http://stream.publicbroadcasting.net/production/mp3/kera/local-kera-492682.mp3
Dallas, TX –
When KERA talk show host Glenn Mitchell died, I joined the mourning masses lamenting the senseless shock and abrupt finality. As I said in a recent commentary, there are moments in our lives when we immediately know that "it" will never be the same: When we are suddenly, if privately, older. God knows, with Glenn's passing, a significant portion of the Metroplex felt enveloped in similar reflection.
But there is more to this story than someone dying too young. The passing of Glenn Mitchell's life well lived is a reminder that we are all mortal, and that while one can say "it's never too late," sooner or later, it is. Trendy magazines can rhapsodize all they want that "50 is the new 30," but in truth, 50 is the new 50. Here, conversely, was a decidedly un-trendy man who combated, not the aging process, but banal hyperbole.
Thanksgiving traditionally kicks off the season when we saturate ourselves in excess under the guise of religion. Understandably, Mitchell's death announced the Thanksgiving week with a profound thud. Not unlike one of his cool asides when, while still being a gentleman, he subtly conveyed impatient boredom following someone's random round of mundane yammer. Like Glenn's boyish inquisitiveness, this Thanksgiving week could not help but makes us wonder, and ask, "Why."
Thanksgiving Day, I delivered two home-cooked meals to my shut-in next door neighbor, before joining my family. I took with me for the fourth year a young friend who must return to Colombia because his visa status is expiring, despite having a fine job and a Masters degree. Last week, I took him to the plane, and because of rules unique to both his country and our own post 9-11 immigration laws, he may well be lost to my family forever. Our nations, like our lives, are characterized by clashing karma: infinite opportunity for joy and abundant barriers to happiness.
On the other hand, can we bemoan our own heavy hearts at the end of a year when the tsunami and earthquake wiped out many far-flung earthly regions? When a succession of storms erased our own coastal legacy? When hundreds more of our soldier sons and daughters were killed and thousands maimed? The times in which we live ask many questions, but they answer precious few. That's why we listen to Diane Rehm, Terry Gross, Charlie Rose or Glenn Mitchell; to define the questions we are asking ourselves, while finding redemption through intellectual curiosity.
This season, I'm spending time with friends: Some have never paid Paul without robbing Peter. Others have more money to waste than I have to spend. A teacher drives a Civic; a mogul drives a Rolls. If variety is the spice of life, then a seasoned social lineup is like a weekly Glenn Mitchell promo: unexpected, varied, intriguing.
Still, like life itself, with radio personalities, alone in their studio, it ultimately inevitably comes down to the dreaded moment when the light turns off and the headsets are removed. What better time to salute Glenn Mitchell's lasting legacy than now, sadly saying, joyfully in the spirit of his final favorite season: "Happy Holidays."
Rawlins Gilliland is a writer from Dallas.
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