Mortality and Uncertainty part 1

It seems to be a trending theme on social media that 2016 was somehow the ‘worst’ year ever, due to the seemingly climbing number of celebrity deaths, beginning with David Bowie and capping off with Carrie Fisher and her mother, Debbie Reynolds. I’d like to amend this theme, by pointing out that this stream of deaths is less of a fluke and more of an acceleration of celebrity deaths that has been occurring for a few years now. I should point out that Philip Seymour Hoffman overdosed on heroin in the mid-winter of 2014, and Robin Williams committed suicide in the late summer of the same year. Should these events be considered a prologue of the dreaded 2016, or is it more probable that the masses are beginning to notice the Baby Boom Generation’s slipping into its twilight era? I go along with the latter presumption. Essentially, the public accepts the baby boomers’ aging and declining process through the lens of the high-profile deaths of celebrities.

In my personal life, tragedy seems to coincide with tragedy occurring in the public eye. The week following Robin Williams’s suicide, Andrew Krinick, a former camper of mine, from my years employed as Mailman at Frenchwoods Festival of the Preforming Arts, took his own life. Andrew had recently turned 19 years old. I don’t know whether or not Williams’s actions may have inspired him to follow suit, or not. I can say, that this event and the growing chain of events that have followed have brought me more in touch with the concepts of mortality and fragility, and have turned my focus more on the uncertainty of my future and that of those around me, who I care about.

I was smacked by complete surprise and shock when I learned of Andrew’s passing through the outpouring of attention it received on Facebook. I immediately began writing voluminous tributes:

I first met Andrew Krinick in 2006 at French Woods when he played a moose in a show, (whose title I can't remember). I knew then that I had a special connection with him, as his character's name was "Mr. Moose," the same as an old childhood stuffed animal of mine.

The next year, 2007, Andrew became my camper.

It was a rough summer. The kids were raucous and Andrew was one of the few who did not seem part of the in-crowd.

I remember bonding with Andrew. He was funny, vibrant, and a delight.

In 2009, my last full summer as Frenchwoods Mailman, I recall he and James Fox got into a lot of mischief together. They were punished by being made to clean the horse stables. If memory serves me, I joked with Andrew that they "were really in the shit now"—i.e., horseshit. One thing I remember vividly is that Andrew laughed heartily.

I almost went to visit him this past past March in NYC. I'd known that he was attending Hunter College, and there was an event happening there I wanted to see. I had to put off taking a trip to the city, however, as I was traveling to Main the next month. Now I wish to God we could have worked out the logistics and I could have had the privilege meeting up with Andrew one last time. I feel that fate has cheated us of that chance.

Rest in Peace Andrew…I love you, and I know you are well loved…

…and when my time comes to join you, I just hope the same will be said for me.

I followed this post with a second one:

Andrew, I have no idea what demons plagued you, which made you leave us last night. But I cannot help but bear some of the responsibility for not being there to save you when you needed us most of all. When I was a Frenchwoods counselor, I felt it was my duty to wear the weight of Atlas on my shoulders, to immerse myself in the trials and tribulations of my campers and help fix their problems where I could. That I couldn't prevent your departure means that I have failed in that responsibility.

I consider it a strange twist of fate that last night I coincidentally could not get a certain song out of my head. I will play it for you now, and I hope you are up there listening…

Lyrics

Sorry, sorry, oh so sorry
Uh-oh!
I ran all the home
Just to say I'm sorry (sorry)
What can I say?
I ran all the way, yay, yay, yay
I ran all the home
Just to say I'm sorry (sorry)
Please let me stay
I ran all the way, yay, yay, yay
And now I'm sorry, sorry, sorry
I didn't mean to make you cry
Let's make amends
After all, we're more than friends
Yay, yay, yay
I ran all the home
Just to say I'm sorry (sorry)
What can I say?
I ran all the way, yay, yay, yay
And now I'm sorry, sorry, sorry
I didn't mean to make you cry
Let's make amends
After all, we're more than friends
Yay, yay, yay
I ran all the home
Just to say I'm sorry (sorry)
Please let me stay
I ran all the way, yay, yay, yay
Whoa, whoa, whoa-uh
Yay, yay, uh-oh
Yay, yay, yay
Ahh-oh, ahh-oh
Ahh-oh

I became fixated on that song (Sorry) I Ran All the Way Home, and every so often since, I have been whistling and humming its lyrics to myself…

To be continued…