Saying goodbye to three-fourths of my life

I could not say what David Letterman meant to the rest of the world.  I can only try and articulate what he meant to me.

In the early days, he (and the Beastie Boys) seemed to speak directly to my teenaged soul.  I can remember Axl and I discussing the previous night's Top Ten List the next day at school, when we weren't busy writing down color-coded lyrics to "Paul Revere" and "No Sleep Till Brooklyn." 

Sardonic, absurd, non-conforming, self-deprecating, and more than a bit of a goofball -- wait, are we talking about Dave or 17-year-old me?  Even so, he somehow managed to come across as hip and cool.  (OK, yes, we're definitely talking about Dave.)

In the NBC days particularly, the surprise element of the show was off the charts.  One article I read put forth the idea of how enormous Letterman would have been on the internet and Twitter has such things been around/popular then.  I cringe at using such a cliche, but you literally never knew what was going to happen.  It made for must-see late night TV.

One of my favorite parts was when Letterman took the show to the streets of Manhattan and somehow magically made you feel as if you were there, a part of New York, the center of the world.  The show lost something as those escapades became rarer, eventually all but stopping.

It's easy to forget how the late night landscape looked when Letterman, having been passed over to succeed Carson, made the jump to CBS.  ABC was airing "Nightline."  Prior to 1993, I think CBS had a late night movie offering in that slot.  Arsenio was around in syndication.  But for the most part, no other talk show had been able to sustain for any considerable length of time opposite "The Tonight Show."  (Remember "Into the Night Starring Rick Dees?"  Me either.)

I would argue that Letterman's move and success spurred a significant shift in late night programming, for better or worse.  Pretty soon every Tom (Snyder), Dick (Dietrick), and Chevy (Chase) around were joining the party. 

All this is not to say Dave and I didn't have our issues, or that I was always a faithful viewer.  I hadn't been for awhile.  Heck, I fell asleep during the finale and had to watch the rest of it the next day on DVR.  Staying up until midnight and waking up at 7:00 when you're seventeen is slightly more exhilarating than staying up until midnight and waking up at 5:00 when you're forty-two.

And I think we all remember the Bone/Letterman online Top Ten Contest feud.  (Top Ten Little Known Facts About Santa Claus? My entry: Doesn't believe in HIMSELF.)  Unfortunately, it was overshadowed by the far-less-criminal Oprah/Letterman feud.

In recent years, the surprise element was not nearly what it once was.  The show became less funny to me.  But at the same time, Letterman became more real, more human.  (This is something Leno never quite managed, in my opinion, and I suppose maybe never wanted to.)

Letterman made very public mistakes, he had serious health problems, he became a father.  He cared and talked about world events and politics.  And I always thought his interview skills to be excellent, far and above any of his late night contemporaries.

As he sort of became the elder statesman, it seemed like he appealed to a wider audience.  At least within my test group.  Because while I didn't watch nearly as often, my Mom became one of his biggest fans.  I know she would not have even considered watching him in 1989.

"That David is so silly, isn't he?" she would say with much affection.  Rupert Jee and Jack Hanna were two of her favorites.  And anytime Regis and Letterman were on together, it was the highlight of her month.

I wonder what she'll do now, what she'll watch, as she doesn't seem to care for or get any of "those kids on there now."

I can hardly remember a time when there wasn't a David Letterman on television.  For thirty-three of my forty-two years, there has been.  And then it hits me, I'm not writing about what his show meant to me.  Instead, in all selfishness, it's about what his retirement signifies:  The inescapable passing of time.

And all you can do is remember, and say goodbye.  To the gap-toothed smile, the tossing of pens at cameras, and those years of your life.


"And I wonder when I sing along with you / If everything could ever feel this real forever / If anything could ever be this good again..."

They called him Adam Yauch

I flipped on the TV last Friday evening.  The volume was down, but when I saw his picture, I knew.  MCA -- Adam Yauch of the Beastie Boys -- had died.  At 47. 

A week later and I still seem to be doubled over from the proverbial punch to the stomach.  I don't know why it's affecting me so much, just that it is. 

I remember watching the video message where he announced he'd been diagnosed with cancer.  But then you don't hear anything for awhile, and it's easy to think, "Oh, he's young, he'll beat it."

Until a couple years later you see his picture on TV, and you realize he didn't.  He couldn't.  And there is only shock.  And sadness.  Deep, deep sadness.

For the better part of the past week, I've tried to come up with some way to put all these feelings into words, and mostly failed.  I just want to put on all my Beastie Boys songs, download the ones I don't already have, and listen to them for hours and hours until it somehow gets better.

I did recall that I'd written a post about the Beastie Boys a few years ago, so I looked it up.  (It's here if you want to go back and read it.)  My initial thought was that it doesn't really work as a tribute. 

Then again, maybe it does.

It recalls a time when we were younger, and it felt as if there would always be an abundance of days.  We knew life would end, but back then it was hardly a passing thought as that seemed almost incomprehensibly far away.

So much farther away than it seems today. 

"I wanna say a little somethin' that's long overdue / The disrespectin' women has go to be through /  To all the mothers and the sisters and the wives and friends / I want to offer my love and respect to the end..."

Life and the lack thereof

I set a new personal record last night, by drinking milk four days past the date on the carton. That broke my previous all-time personal best of three days, achieved on numerous occasions, most recently the day before yesterday.

Why did I do this?

Why not? Isn't that what life is about? Setting goals for oneself and having the courage to go after them. Consider me the Michael Phelps of lactose. (But really, I just had some Double Stuff Oreos and didn't feel like getting dressed and going to the store to buy fresh milk at the almost-witching hour of 9 PM.)

In other news, I think my fall social season is winding down at last. I've really been making the toddler birthday party scene this year. In the past couple of months, I have attended no less than three parties for one-year-olds.

At the most recent cake and diaper mixer, I ran into fave cousin, which isn't a huge surprise as it was his daughter who was turning one. Anyway, he asked if I had been working out. I thought he was kidding, so I gave him the you're-kidding-right snicker, but he responded with a no-I'm-serious-you're-huge look, then he mentioned something about my arms looking bigger. This would make a much better story if he was a girl. And also not my cousin.

But that's how things go sometimes. I believe the Beastie Boys may have articulated it best when they said, "Lookin' for a girl, I ran into a guy."

Life hasn't been all fun and LeapFrog games, however. Sometimes there are lulls. Some days I put on my pajama pants as soon as I get home from work with no intention of even so much as opening the front door until the next morning, then I stay up 'til 2:30 AM because TruTV decides to show six Forensics Files in a row and what am I supposed to do, not watch?

Some days life is about as exciting as a scoliosis screening.

And that's OK, because if there is one thing I have learned in all my misadventures, it is that you do not want a scoliosis screening to become exciting.

"The secret of life is gettin' up early. The secret of life is stayin' up late. The secret of life is try not to hurry, but don't wait, don't wait..."

An ode to Mike D

So am I the only one excited about this Scott Baio Is 45 & Single show?

*crickets chirp*

OK, well so maybe I am. But I think his life and mine share several parallels. We're both single. Neither of us have landed a prominent acting role in the past fifteen years. And while we're at it, whatever happened to Buddy Limbeck?

The first time I remember hearing the Beastie Boys, I was in eighth grade. And while "You Gotta Fight For Your Right" was about as rebellious as I was to get, it was their other songs that got me hooked on the Beastie's catchy rhymes and def beats.

Lyrics like "we went to White Castle and we got thrown out" or "he recognized my girlie from the back of her head" seemed to speak directly to my 13-year-old soul.

I recall sitting in my eighth grade English class rapping back and forth to "Paul Revere" with Axl, as Tabitha Aldridge, a cute cheerleader in our class, listened intently. She was smiling and obviously amazed by the sheer magniture of our Beastie-ness. When I got to the wiffle ball bat line, I knew by the look on her face that girls loved rappers.

Thus began my phase of composing three-part color-coded rap lyrics for Axl, Hollywood, and myself. I used the classic four-color blue-barrelled Bic pen to compose my def jams. Most were written during Home Economics, in between knitting Jam shorts and baking peanut butter cookies. I was hardcore.

The words juice, jammy, and girlie dominated my vocabulary in 1987 and 1988. But as time passed, the Beasties changed, and so did I. Cargo shorts and flip-flops have replaced my Jams and British Knights. And I now prefer the single-colored Bic Cristal Classic ball point pen, or the charcoal-barrelled black felt tip pen with the yellow-ended cap.

The Beasties became involved with various causes and charities. They organized and performed at the New Yorkers Against Violence Concert in October 2001. Their music has continued to evolve as well, yet the one constant remains their fresh, clever rhymes. After all these years, the Beastie Boys have managed to remain chill.

So here's to Mike D, MCA, King Ad-Rock, and doing whatever it takes to impress the girlies. Some things never go out of style.


"Well, now, don't you tell me to smile. You stick around I'll make it worth your while. Got numbers beyond what you can dial. Maybe it's because I'm so versatile..."