The Curse of Fame

I still find it a little eerie that Whitney is gone. I’ve had this post brewing in my head for some time, but just couldn’t face typing it. The horrible drug-induced deaths famous musicians and singers are so well-known for are just so depressing.

Most people see fame as an achievement or a great success. I tend to have a more wary outlook. It seems far more a malignant curse than a good thing to me. It has a nasty habit of dragging everything the Western world in all its capricious wisdom loves to long for right before its suspects’ unknowing eyes: Money, money and more money. It also brings a multitude of worshipers and more than a few obsessively starstruck nut jobs. It markets itself as the best thing one could ever hope for, parades itself as the epitome of a life well lived and then has the audacity to drag its victims slowly to the depths of despair. The Great Killer, also known as depression, loves to offer its allegiance in the troublesome slaughter of an innocent mind.

Fame offers everything and anything on a whim. Snap your fingers and it’s there. But money and possessions are a funny bunch. They tend to call your name day after day, and when you finally try to snatch them into your grasp, they start to laugh with a twisted sense of mirth that you fell for their now-obvious wiles. Once you’ve seen how empty possessions and wealth really are, it’s far too late. You’re hooked to the addictions of what they can buy.

How maddening.

But now I must hasten to bring some balance to this article. Many people who are dragged to rock bottom by their demons are, when all is said and done, fantastic people with wonderful hearts. As a prime example in the case of Whitney Houston, Paul Jackson Jr., one of Whitney’s session musicians and obviously a personal friend, said the following. It is both enlightening and moving at the same time.

There have been lots of things said about Whitney Houston. One thing that people don’t know is that she was one of the best people to work with that I’ve ever met. I played guitar on “The Greatest Love Of All”, “Where Do Broken Hearts Go”, “Saving All My Love For You”, “The Bodyguard” soundtrack, and on all of “The Preacher’s Wife” soundtrack. I also toured with her extensively.

While I was in her band those 5 years, we traveled all over the world and made great music. She wasn’t the type of “diva” who had to stay in a separate hotel from the band and crew. She not only paid us well, but she provided care for the kids of band and crew members. We had dinners together, pool parties, jam sessions, lots of stuff. Once we were laid over in Philly and all of us, including Whitney, turned a park into a skating rink.

She was never short with the band. She respected us. She appreciated us. She loved us.

There has a lot said in the recent past about her “issues”. Whatever “issues” she had were hers. I have many of my own. The Bible says that before I try to take the speck out of the eyes of others, I should first take the log out of my own eye.

I will state two things I know as fact: Whitney was one of the best people I’ve ever been blessed to be around, and Whitney knew the Lord. There’s another passage in the Bible that says “precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints”. So I know she’s okay, and I will see her and make music with her once again in Heaven. And, while we call this a terrible tragedy, Jesus calls it precious. I will miss my boss, my friend, and one of the most talented people with whom God has allowed me to work.

I love you Nip.

–Paul Jackson Jr.

What a humbling yet beautiful thing to say. I love things like this cropping up amidst the general cynicism surrounding famous people dying early.

But the depressing fact remains that this simply adds to the list of great men and women cut down in, or very close to, their prime. Steve Jobs, Steve Irwin, Heath Ledger, Jimi Hendrix, Martin Luther King and Anne Frank are a few more that come to mind.

I guess the moral of the story lies in the simple, pithy statement: Love one another and enjoy today. No one knows if we’ll get tomorrow.