The Bright Side of B.B. King's Death

First, let me say, I take no delight in the death of anyone. Least of all people I like. There's those I don't like and they die, but I still don't celebrate. I don't, because I'm very busy working on an alibi, and if I'm celebrating, that's a bad sign. On the other hand, if I look unnaturally sad that's suspicious, too.

So I basically have no delight in the death of anyone. Although, of course, I recognize that death comes sooner or later for everyone. Even me, as I know for a fact I will live to 85, then sometime after that--- everyone will be more alive than me. Sad thing to contemplate.

I do the same thing everyone does when someone famous passes, I contemplate it. Like B.B. King. Who was born a particular day a long time ago, then just recently died. Who was B.B. King? He was a famous blues guitarist and singer. He honed his craft and after honing it was really good. This is where B.B. King and I differ. Whereas I play guitar, I'm quite bad at it. And I've sung the blues, also not very good. B.B. King excelled at it and was wanted for public performances. I sang at church a few times, significantly depressing the offering.

The weirdest part about this for me is, I was within 20 feet of B.B. King and yet never laid eyes on him! How is that possible, you wonder? I'll hint at what I mean: He was in his tour bus and I was in the car right behind him, in stopped traffic, mind you. At that time what could I do? Rush his bus and demand entrance? I have my pride. If he knew I was in the car right behind me, he could've made the first move. But he didn't. Stuck up much? I'm not saying yes, I'm not saying no. The long and short of the story is, Neither of us made the first move, so we never met.

Now he goes and dies on me and I haven't got a chance to make it right. Or to insist that he make it right. The time has passed. We had that one moment in the sun, which completely fizzled, thanks to mutual stubbornness, and now we have to live with our regrets. That's me, whereas he took his regrets to his grave. Nothing I wished on him, it just happened.

But today I'm not thinking about how it is when you don't meet. I'm thinking of our relative talents. He was so good, and I'm so poor at playing guitar. But once a man dies -- and this is indisputable -- no matter how good he was before, he's no good now. You can't gainsay that. Which means, at long last -- and it's literally taken all my life -- as poor as I am, I am a better guitar player (and even blues singer!) than B.B. King!

I've been working on my fragile ego for years. But every time someone great passes, I become that much stronger. Whether it's as an actor -- and I'm now a better actor than even many one-time Academy Award winners -- or a musician, or any great artist, my talents, modest as they are, are better. I started young, too. I was six or seven when Buddy Holly died, making me quite the young prodigy! Then other folks steadily passed on as I grew up -- talented people -- bringing forth time after time even greater excellence in me.

In recent years, a lot of the classic rock singers and musicians have unknowingly given me a lot to brag about, with B.B. King being just the latest. It's sad to say goodbye to him, and we were literally that close with the bus and car, but it's as they say, Every dark cloud has a silver lining for someone. Me.

To Be Known For One Thing

I've been working on "ego" issues. Maybe I mentioned this before; I don't remember.

I let these personality things slide sometimes, then there's a flash of insight and next thing you know I'm back to it. These times usually coincide with me happening to see professional men dressed in white coats. The fact that they're not coming for me is always good, of course, but the fact that I'm thinking of it is enough of a wake-up call to get busy.

Thinking about my ego, usually it's deflated, but sometimes it's quite inflated. Even though I'm getting on in years, it still seems possible that a major producer will discover me and I'll be the next big rock star. Like Fabian. I just sit there, very coy like, but the producer never comes. And I'd hate to have to start out small and work my way up, like standing on the corner singing for dimes, then being the entertainment at a nursing home, then county fair competitions, then producing and marketing my own single record, then ... probably nothing. By this time I'm a worn out has been, with people pointing at me in grocery stores, going, "Isn't that the old guy who used to sing at the fair?"

It's always been one of my biggest fears "to be known for one thing." I hate that whole scene. Such as if you cause a stink at the courthouse in a dispute over your taxes, and let's say you pay your entire tax bill in pennies, and it makes the paper. From that point on, whether you live or die, you're the guy who caused a stink at the courthouse in a dispute over your taxes and who paid in pennies. That's nothing to be known for! And I knew a guy who was known for that. It's a long story, but he ended up in prison, because there was more to the story than that.

You can be known for fairly benign things, like, let's say you were an entertainer at nursing homes. Then any reference to you picks on that one thing. "Well-known nursing home entertainer, Oney 'I've Got a Frog in My Throat' Anderson, died today of a heart attack. His frog croaked too." Or to get out of the realm of penny protests and show business, you might have been a crossing guard for the school system. And that's the one thing you're known for.

I really think it's almost better to be known for nothing than for one thing!

Still, and this is my personal ego talking, how cool it'd be if the Daily News would run a story about me, with the glorious headline in 60 point type: "Local Man Writes Own Blog." Except then, someday 50 years from now when I die, it'd be "Local Man Who Wrote Own Blog Dies; Grandmother Mourns."